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One of the earliest published composers of syncopated music, George Barnard actually contributed more to American band music, and band programs for youth. He was born in late 1857 nearly four decades before ragtime was first heard by the general public. George was the youngest child of Michigan farmer Daniel and Rebecca Barnard. His older siblings included William (1842), Emily (1845), Charles (1847), James (1851) and Roland (1853). While George's birth year has been traditionally reported as 1858, he himself noted 1857, and since he was 2 in August of 1860, 12 in June of 1870 and 22 in June of 1880, these are all consistent with the 1857 birth year which is used here. Also, his original home was Sandstone in Jackson County, Michigan, not Jackson itself. The Barnard family is shown there in both the 1860 and 1870 Census enumerations.
As a youth he received some musical training, but spent much of his own time and initiative learning various band instruments. In his early twenties he was knowledgeable enough about both instruments and band orchestrations that he was able to get a job working for music dealer, instrument maker and sometime publisher Lyon and Healy of Chicago. In early 1880 George married his first wife, Jennie Ruby, and she often accompanied him as he traveled the country peddling the Lyon and Healy products. But it is probable that George was also playing in various bands, and perhaps doing some piano performance as well. In the 1880 Census, living in East Saginaw, Michigan with his new bride, George was listed as a musician. His mother had been widowed by that time, and was living in Jackson with her son Charles.George learned more about band orchestrations during his travels and experiences with bands.By 1890 he was dabbling in composition, and Lyon and Healy utilized him as an arranger as well. Many of his early compositions were published in Philadelphia by the John Church company. Barnard had the advantage of being exposed to what was often the newest type of music in one or another location, then spreading the idea of that form to other places he visited. In 1897 he wrote his first of many waltzes, which was also a Spanish-tinged serenade, a form he would revisit again. Two years later, during the height of the Cakewalk craze, George contributed his own durable entry, Alabama Dream. Even though most cakewalks were fairly good sellers, well written ones like Alabama Dream did even better. It was played by many bands and pianists around the country. As of the 1900 Census, George and Jennie were living in Cincinnati, Ohio, with her mother, Matilda A. Ruby. They had been there for perhaps eight years by that time. Most of his compositions over the next few years shied away from syncopation, and were comprised largely of marches, waltzes and overtures. In 1902 the Barnards moved again, this time to Lincoln, Nebraska, where he was given the task of directing French's Military Band. He gave up representation of Lyon and Healy around that time. In 1907 George and Jennie moved again, this time back to Michigan and Calumet where he both played with and directed th Calumet and Hecla Band. This was one of many organizations around the country that was largely comprised of miners and their families, in this case, copper miners.
Even though cakewalks were more or less passé by 1910, and "coon songs" were thankfully on their way out, Barnard added one more entry to that genre with A Cyclone in Darktown: Just Rags. The sheet music sported an unfortunate cover featuring a black man running from "darktown" holding a razor in one hand and a watermelon in the other. This was the responsibility of publisher Carl Fischer than Barnard, who more or less left that part of the business decision making alone. A Cyclone in Darktown had more syncopation in it that Alabama Dream, but was only a moderate seller in a time when songs about ragtime were becoming more popular than the ragtime itself. Barnard would continue his composition career within the three genres he was more comfortable with, waltzes, marches and Latin serenades. There were a few piano pieces published, but most would end up as band or orchestral arrangements. While in Michigan George met and married his second and last wife, Hortencia "Daisy" Weismann, twenty years his junior. She was the sister of Leonard Weismann, a cornet player in Barnard's band. In 1913 the couple left Michigan for Oskaloosa, Iowa, for a year, then in 1914 moved to Oklahoma, spending the remainder of the decade in Ardmore in the south-central part of the state. Leonard followed along as a member of George's stock company, and played for many years in a band there. He and Daisy were found in Ardmore, Oklahoma in the January 1920 Census, with George listed as a band master working from home. In mid 1920 George and Daisy relocated one last time, settling in Maysville, Kentucky. There he took over leadership of the Kentucky Cardinals Boys Band, which had been founded in Maysville in February 1919. This was a pioneering organization which spawned similar bands around the country as their reputation grew. It was also a quality unit, with George arranging most of the music they played, assisted by J. Barbour Russell who managed the organization.
Having accumulated some wealth through his compositions, arrangements, endorsements and band leadership, Barnard had a home custom built for he and his wife. It had a music room large enough to host a small band, and it is said there was a large bass drum on one side with a cardinal logo. Barnard entertained and also taught private lessons in that room. In 1925 when a Kentucky statue was proposed concerning regulating and taxing municipalities that sponsored musical concerts, Barnard became involved with it, supporting it as good for the state. He had not flagged on composition either, continuing to turn out new arrangements, but mostly for band and not piano. In 1927 George published a series of band/orchestra books full of flexible arrangements of well-known classical and march works. Barnard retired from his regular band work around 1927 when he turned 70, but continued to teach privately and perform or conduct now and then. Many in the mainstream of music had forgotten about or simply were not aware of this fairly prolific composer and dynamic leader, as he had always led a fairly private life away from the bandstand. He continued working at arranging and teaching until early January 1933, and was taken in his home by a cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 75 that same month. He reportedly left behind some 400 compositions, many published under various pseudonyms, including G.F. Daniels, George McQuaide, Edward Russell, Ed Hazel and M.B. Eaton. Hortensia survived him and continued to submit his pieces for recopyright for many years. Barnard's compositions and arrangements for bands remain in print to this day, some even available for digital downloads more than a century after their inception. | ||||||||
Only snippets of information are available on the life of Bernard Adler, who made at least one important ragtime contribution. The collective snippets are presented here for the first time as a long-view portrait of the composer. Bernard was born in Chicago, Illinois to Louis Adler, a German immigrant clock and watch repairman, and his California born wife Sophie (or Sallie) Adler. He was the middle child of five siblings, including Flora (c.1876), Maurice (c.1878), Sophie (1880) and Janet (1889). While little is known of his training or home life, his abilities went beyond what would be taught at Chicago public schools. The fact that Maurice also became involved in the Music Business suggests that the brothers received some kind of formal music instruction in a town full of very competent musical talent. | ||||||
Harry Belding is another one of those infrequent composers with a big hit about who virtually nothing has been known. What little that was pieced together by the author will help to tell his story of his less than meteoric rise to fame and nearly instant decline. Harry was born in Jefferson, Iowa, to Jay W. Belding and Lovina "Vina" (Cotton) Belding. He had an older sister, Vesperia "Pearl" Belding.
In the 1880 Census, Jay was an operator of some kind, and Vina was a music teacher. Jay became involved with the piano and organ business at some point in the mid 1880s, and his intent to take a mortgage for a store was printed in the Music Trade Review in 1889. It can be surmised that Harry received some form of musical training at the piano either from his mother or one of her local teacher associates.By the time of the 1900 Census, Jay and Vina were divorced after nearly 30 years of marriage, and Harry was living with his father who had moved to Des Moines, Iowa. Also in the household was his sister, who had recently married J.H. McClintock, and their young son. Jay was listed as a college professor, and Harry as his assistant, although the field of study was not included. There is no mention of Harry in the news or official documents over the next decade, although he married his wife Minnie (Doring) Belding, also from Iowa, around 1902. Belding appears in Kansas City, Missouri in the 1910 Census as the manager of a vaudeville theater. It was here that he perhaps caught the performance bug and made the right connections. In 1912 and 1913 Harry went on the road with a partner, and they toured as Alexander and Belding. It was this act that introduced Good Gravy Rag, which was published by Buck and Lowney in St. Louis in 1913. For the next season he teamed up with a young lady named Myrtle Souders. In a December 22, 1913 review of their act at the Pantages Theater in Berkeley, California, it was noted that: "Harry Belding and Myrtle Souders are an attractive young couple, with fine singing voices. Belding is an excellent pianist also, and their four numbers have the lilting refrains that are whistled and hummed after one leaves the theater." It was shortly after this that he published his only other known piece, Apple Sass Rag. During the 1914 season he also managed to get a picture on one of the cover runs of Irving Berlin's He's a Rag Picker, and a performer credit on Back to the Carolina I Love by Jean Schwartz and Grant Clarke. Then Harry literally vanished from view after a mere two years on stage. After 1914 any mention of Belding is hard to find, and none of it in show business. He either did not care for life on the road or it and some audiences or managers did not care for him. In any case, Harry and Minnie and their daughter Dorothy were next sighted in Los Angeles, California in 1918. On his draft record he lists his occupation as farmer, employed by his father who had also moved to Los Angeles. Jay W. Belding passed on sometime before the 1920 Census. The younger Beldings could not be located in that record. Harry shows up in San Diego, California, in the mid 1920s, as per several newspaper articles that mention him, many in a musical context. He is in the 1930 Census record, also taken in San Diego, California. Harry had remarried a few years earlier to Shirley A. Belding of Michigan, also a pianist and singer. The music business was not mentioned anywhere, as Harry was working as a real-estate agent in that lucrative market. In addition to the real estate business, Belding was plying his musical talent in various San Diego area venues as per a number or articles in the San Diego Union. These included appearances as a tenor with the Arizonans and the San Diego County Realtors Glee Club. There were also frequent appearances in the late 1920s as a soloist on local radio broadcasts. Sadly, Harry Belding died at age 49 as the result of a fall of a landing and down a flight of stars in October 1931. His daughter, Dorothy (Newcomb) died of a long illness the following January. While Belding only left behind those two musical works, they are still frequently performed today on CD recordings and at ragtime festivals around the United States. Thanks to historian Reginald Pitts who was able to dig up a few bits of information on Belding's final years in Southern California, including a newspaper article on his death.
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Theron C. Bennett was born in Pierce City, Missouri, to Vermont native George Nelson Bennett and his Missouri wife Hattie Bennett. It appears he was an only child to the druggist and his wife. After his schooling in Missouri, during which his mother died in the 1890s,
Theron attended New Mexico College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts (now New Mexico State University) in Las Cruces, where he obtained a degree focused on music, but possibly with some business background. While there he engaged in organizing a minstrel troupe of around twenty members with one of the professors. As of the 1900 Census, Theron still listed Pierce City as his home base.Bennett's first publication, Pickaninny Capers, came in 1902, the year he graduated. It was followed by the successful and suggestive self-published Satisfied: An Emotional Drag in 1903. This got the attention of publisher Victor Kremer of Chicago who hired him as a composer and arranger and bought Satisfied for reissue as well. It turned out to be a fortuitous move for both when in 1904 Bennett took the notorious "Buddy Bolden/Funky Butt" strain from New Orleans and incorporated into St. Louis Tickle, one of many pieces exploiting the 1904 Lewis and Clark Exposition (World's Fair) in St. Louis, Missouri. It was published using the names Barney & Seymore as the composers, in part to perhaps sound like a vaudeville act, and in part to perhaps protect the composer's identity if the use of the wicked strain backfired. Fortunately it did not, and St. Louis Tickle, clearly a hit at the fair and often recorded since, ended up selling well for over two decades. Bennett also contributed a set of waltzes to the fair's musical mélange under his own name. Theron wrote two fine rags over the next few years, including Sweet Pickles and Pork and Beans. He also composed an Indian intermezzo, a popular genre at that time started by Theron's friend Charles N. Daniels' and his non-Indian piece Hiawatha. Lovelight was released as an instrumental, and as two songs with different lyric sets in different keys. Around 1908, as the Kremer firm began to dissipate, starting with the defection of its namesake owner, Bennett formed his own music firm which published his own works plus notable pieces like All the Grapes, California Sunshine and Melancholy Baby. His first move was to Omaha, Nebraska, in 1908 where he opened a new piano dealership. He was in Omaha for the 1910 Census as a musician in a store. Within a couple of years, he had settled in Denver, Colorado, but still traveled regularly to the retailers he distributed his works, including New York, St. Louis and Omaha. One of the more notorious episodes of his publishing career has to do with W.C. Handy's Memphis Blues. As the story goes, Bennett was visiting his Memphis representative L.Z. Phillips at Bry's Department Store. Phillips had agreed to print Memphis Blues for Handy on speculation based on the clear potential of good sales, and was waiting for the first 1000 copies for distribution in Memphis. Based on Phillips recommendation, Bennett told Handy he would act as a distribution agent offering him national exposure, a deal hard to turn down. Phillips and Bennett were both present with Handy when the initial delivery of 1000 copies was made. When Handy came to check on sales a weeks after the delivery, Phillips and Bennett showed him a stack of nearly the full 1000 copies, noting that sales were slow, and encouraged him to simply sell the piece outright, which a confused Handy, who knew the piece had been popular, agreed to for a mere $50. What they did not tell Handy was that this was the second stack of 1000 as the first 1000 copies had sold out quickly. A few weeks later, another 10,000 copies were ordered with Bennett's imprint, and Zimmerman was offered a job as a wholesale manager. Within months, Bennett sold the piece to publisher Joe Morris for a rather large amount. To make matters worse, Bennett's frequent lyricist George Norton was hired by Morris to add words to a song version of Memphis Blues which were only fair at best, and which Handy objected to. The whole episode compelled Handy to form his own music company, Handy and Pace, which was successful on its own merits for many years.Bennett pulled a similar number on Ernie Burnett's Melancholy, first getting Burnett to agree to have Norton replace the lyrics that Burnett's wife Maybelle Watson had penned, then altering the title to Melancholy Baby after having bought it outright. The piece did very well for the publisher throughout most of his remaining life. During this period Bennett also started a chain of music stores with his profits from the sales, primarily offering sheet music and records. He had outlets in Denver, New York City, Omaha, Chicago, St. Louis and Memphis. Bennett continued to write and publish some of his own works as well. Chills and Fevers was a good seller for his company. In Denver, Theron was listed in the mid to late-1910s as not only a publisher but as the proprietor of the Dutch Mill Cafe (a descendant of which is still in operation today), which was also a music store. It was evidently one of the great meeting places of Denver musicians and artists. In 1917 he published the song Around Her Neck She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, which is the source of the tradition for yellow ribbons in honor of those who have gone to war, and possibly the later song Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Old Oak Tree. The authorship of this song remains disputed to this day, but it was likely an older folk melody that Bennett simply adapted and arranged. When it was later included in the John Wayne film She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, Leroy Parker and M. Ottner received composition credit. His 1918 draft record also describes him as being short with medium build, and black hair with brown eyes. It also indicates that his father had now retired to Florida. Existing records indicate that he likely never married. In the 1920 Census Theron is listed as the manager of a department store, likely the sheet music department within the store.
After a decade or so in Denver, Bennett followed the crowds down to Southern California in 1922, and remained there for the rest of his life. It wasn't long before he formed a jazz band primarily composed of band students from the University of Southern California (USC) as well as his own society orchestra. His group was among the first to play live on the new medium of radio before the end of 1922. As referenced in The Music Trade Review of April 14, 1923: "Edgar F. Bitner, general manager of Leo Feist, Inc., who is touring the Pacific Coast accompanied by Mrs. Bitner, was tendered an unusual entertainment prior to his departure from Los Angeles, when an all-Feist program was broadcasted [sic] from the Anthony Studios, [KFI] station, through the courtesy of Herb Wiedoeft's orchestra... Theron Bennett, the well-known orchestra leader who conducts the Green Mill Orchestra in Los Angeles, and who has been a close friend of Mr. Bitner for many years, did much to entertain the party during its stay in Los Angeles." He also conducted the Packard Six Orchestra (sponsored by the automobile company of the same name), and still appeared with his Dutch Mill Orchestra, both frequently hear on KFI. In the mid 1920s KFI, a clear channel station, could often be heard as far off as the East Coast, reflected in the radio listings of papers like The Washington Post and The Bridgeport [Connecticut] Telegram. In the mid 1920s Bennett opened his own school of popular music, dance music and jazz piano at 3290 W. Pico Boulevard in Los Angeles, advertising it heavily in 1926. He also served as the president of the California organization of former New Mexico students for his alma mater. As of 1930 Bennett was listed as a music teacher with a house mate, Austen Peerly, a local gardener and landscaper 30 years younger than the composer. As the Great Depression settled in, his businesses all folded and he lost virtually all of his assets. Theron Bennett died nearly destitute in 1937 at age 57 after a prolonged illness. The official obituary in the Los Angeles Times incorrectly listed Melancholy Baby and Memphis Blues as being among his compositions, which further exacerbated that lingering issue. The New York Times got it correct, however. He left behind a fair body of pieces that he either composed or published, and some of them are pieces that are still well remembered today as important works of the ragtime era. Bennett was honored at the one of the earliest ragtime festivals organized by Bob Darch in Pierce City in September 1961. | |||||||
Irving Berlin, perhaps more than any other composer of the first half of the 20th Century and beyond, represents America and American Music at its finest. Given his background it becomes even more extraordinary when one understands his contributions to this adopted country of his. Berlin also managed to stay right on the cusp of popular forms to which he was contributing, not mastering them, but certainly writing into them well. It is likely that he wrote AND published more songs than any other popular song writer in history, wrote hundreds of unpublished or unpublishable tunes as well, and likely created more pieces than any other 20th century writer as both composer and lyricist. He was also quirky, but in spite of not being a movie star in stature, he was a true American favorite among the public and among the stars as well. From truly humble beginnings Berlin managed to build a musical empire and a legacy that is hard to match and remains with us in the 21st century.
Early Years
This great American was actually born in Mogilev (modern day Belarus) or Tehmen (according to his 1942 draft record, but at variance with other records), Russia in 1888 as Israel Isidore Baline, to Jewish parents Moses Baline and Leah (Yarchin) Baline. His father was a cantor who sometimes worked as a shochet (the person who kills animals in a kosher manner for sale and consumption) as well to support his wife and eight children. In the face of the increasing progroms and oppression of Jews in Russia, Baline moved his family to the United States when Israel, the youngest sibling, was around five. Perhaps the first hint of the coming name change, the family is shown on the arrival list of the Rhynland on September 14, 1893, as the Beilin family, but it is not clear whether they actually adopted the Berlin last name when they immigrated.
Moses found work in New York certifying Kosher meat before it went to market, while his wife kept house. When Israel was around eight his father died, leaving the boy and his older brothers and sisters (one already working as a domestic) in the position of helping their mother survive in the New York ghetto. So he and his siblings went to work as news butchers, delivery boys, and whatever odd jobs they could find, usually at the sacrifice of sufficient schooling. He picked up some singing skills as well, although the boy never had formal training in piano, voice, or even harmony and theory. He was simply a natural. In 1902 Izzy, as he was often referred to, left home to make try to find his own way in the world. The fourteen-year-old sang in bars, or on the streets, and continued to do whatever odd jobs he could find. The hardships he encountered would stick with him throughout his life, as even though he eventually had more money that he could imagine, he was still very cautious with it. This reality may have also formed his work ethic, feeling the need to always be productive. A side job for the boy was as a song plugger or demonstrator (as a vocalist) for Harry Von Tilzer, but this was not steady work. Still, it placed him in Tony Pastor's famed Vaudeville house, and got him some notice among musicians.By 1906, at 18, Izzy had a job as a singing waiter at Callahan's, and then Pelham's Cafe in Chinatown (some sources also cite a place called Nigger Mike's). Since a rival pub had their own song published in 1907 (it was increasingly easy to get a song into print in Manhattan by this time), the owner asked Izzy if he help to write one for Pelham's. Baline fitted lyrics to a melody by the cafe's pianist, Nick Nicholson, and in short order, Marie from Sunny Italy became the first of his songs in print. This was quite a feat as he was still having some difficulty with English, as Russian had been spoken in his home, and Yiddish was the common language on the streets, but he showed a propensity for clever rhyming. Izzy made a whopping 37 cents in royalties, but he gained something more - his famous name. The cover artist and printer misread the name and put it down as "I. Berlin," but since it sounded much more Americanized, he adopted Irving Berlin as his legal name. (Note that this is the most common story, although the Ellis Island arrival list cannot be discounted as a contributing possibility). The published effort managed to gain Berlin some small fame, and he next found himself singing at Jimmy Kelly's establishment, a bit closer to Tin Pan Alley than he had previously been. Encouraged by the minor sucess of Marie, and in spite of what was still an English handicap, Berlin set out to contribute lyrics to more tunes. In some cases, he would create a set of lyrics and be in search of an existing melody or a potential writer for that melody. In the year following Marie this translated into a total of two more pieces. However, 1909 would prove to be the year of his emergence as a great lyricist. Remember that Babe Ruth was initially known for his pitching prowess, so that the immigrant Berlin was utilized as a pitcher of lyrics makes for a better story, once his other true talent was revealed. Berlin had been experimenting with his own melodies, which had to be hummed to a pianist who would translate them. Through watching, he soon learned enough tricks to be able to pound out his own melodies, albeit usually transcribed by a copyist or arranger. The incident that spurred him on to be a music writer involved another early song, Dornado. Irving had his own definitive idea about how the melody for the piece should sound, but the collaborator who transcribed it came out with something quite different. So Berlin struck out to find someone who could literally translate the melody, and Dornado was born. It got him enough notice that Ted Snyder, who had recently come from Chicago and opened both Seminary Music and Ted Snyder Publishing in Manhattan, hired Berlin as a staff lyricist in early 1909. According to Berlin's obituary, he had taken a lyric to Snyder for consideration in late 1908. The newly minted publisher asked to hear the melody. Even though Irving had not considered adding his own tune to the lyric, he improvised one on the spot, hummed to Snyder's pianist/arranger, and performed it right away. Snyder was impressed enough to bring Berlin into the fold in short order. His hiring was announced in the New York Clipper on March 20, 1909: A lad, scarcely out of his teens, possessing remarkable talent as a popular song writer, has just signed a five year contract with the Ted Snyder Music Company. His name is Irving Berlin, and although a little over twenty years of age, the young scribe has developed an ability of more than ordinary quality. He writes all manner of songs, with a facility that is astonishing because of the fact that he has never been endowed with any musical training.Henry Waterson, of the Ted Snyder Company, immediately recognized in young Berlin talent out of the ordinary. Encouraging him in the pursuit of his vocation, Messrs. Waterson and Snyder induced Berlin to perfect several manuscripts which they immediately proceeded to put into press. Three of these are particularly novel and valuable. They are entitled, respectively: "Sadie Salome Go Home." a comic dialect; "Dorandor!" an Italian humorous ditty, and "No One Could Do It Like My Father," another witty efusion. Further oddities from this writer's pen are shortly to follow and the Ted Snyder firm will push them with the same profitable vigor as has been evidenced in their famous "My Dream of the U.8.A." and "Beautiful Eyes* numbers. While Berlin lyrics were fitted to the music of a few other Snyder composers, it soon became evident that he and Snyder were a good match, and they started turning out a number of appreciably good tunes on a regular basis. Two rags that were turned into songs with Berlin's lyrics, George Botsford's Dance of the Grizzly Bear, and Snyder's own Wild Cherries, translated into good sales for the company. Snyder also let Irving work with transcribers to turn out his own songs, including two early lasting efforts, Yiddle, on Your Fiddle, Play Some Ragtime and That Mesmerizing Mendelssohn Tune, both from 1909. In 1910, the output from Berlin as well as his collaborations with Snyder exploded in quantity, although other than Grizzly Bear there were no enormous successes. He appears in the 1910 Census as Irving Berlin, head of household, living with his mother and his sister Augusta, his occupation that of Music Writer. The following year, 1911, would prove to be the turning point in Berlin's writing career, and his earliest major success was also touched with a bit of controversy. Gaining Success
Having become more competent as a pianist, albeit in a limited fashion, but more valuable also as one who could recognize good work when it came across his desk, Berlin was also utilized to review the works of other composers for publication, and became Snyder's right hand man. One of these composers was Scott Joplin, who in 1911 was shopping his opera Treemonisha around Tin Pan Alley in hopes of getting it in print, and raising money to stage it. There is a good chance that the score came across Berlin's desk. Later in that year with the help of Snyder arranger Alfred Doyle he re-purposed an earlier unsuccessful song, Alexander and His Clarinet, with a new verse, a tune we all now know as Alexander's Ragtime Band. This new verse was highly similar to the original melody of Joplin's A Real Slow Drag which closed the opera. In fact, it was reported by Joplin's surviving wife, Lottie Stokes Joplin, that he likely altered the melody afterwards so it did not match the verse to Alexander's Ragtime Band. A newspaper notice of that time also noted that Joplin was looking for Mr. Berlin on a certain matter, which may have been concerning the potentially subconscious plagiarism. The issue was never fully resolved, but the facts seem plausible.The chorus of Alexander's Ragtime Band is similarly constructed from existing tunes, including the Reveille bugle call and Stephen Collins Foster's Old Folks at Home (Swanee River). While there is not a lick of actual ragtime syncopation in the piece, it quickly became and has stayed as an anthem of the ragtime era, and it permanently cemented Berlin's name in the songwriting world. The piece was immediately recorded by the Victor Military Band, and even played on the Titanic's maiden (and final) voyage the following year. It has been recorded endlessly by all stripes of music artists, including Ray Charles in a unique arrangement. In the late 1930s a movie was made based on the song. Even in its original printings at least 40 different entertainers were featured on the various covers of the piece. A piano solo version was also available for a while, likely arranged by Doyle. All of this success from one publication, and yet Irving was just beginning his contributions to the Great American Song Book. With Alexander's Ragtime Band, Berlin readily found the pulse of the American music consumer, and did all he could to feed it. It would be some time before he started turning out his famed romantic ballads, but for now he simply became a song machine, with many songs centered around dance or ragtime. He turned enough ragtime-centric songs to be deemed "King of Ragtime Songs," (which should not be confused with syncopated piano ragtime). Even though there were only a couple of scant mentions of him in the news prior to May of 1911, he was suddenly a big item in music and entertainment stories, and his name remained in the press for decades to come. In 1911 and 1912 Berlin and Snyder continued to turn out a tidal wave of tunes, and all told there was a new Berlin song every four to five days, an astonishing feat. His output in 1911 and 1912 alone eclipsed that of the lifetime output of most successful ragtime writers and many popular writers as well.
It should be noted that because of his limitations as a pianist, which were extreme in 1911 and 1912, that Berlin never wrote piano ragtime, nor would he write true jazz or stride. He was and would remain a writer of popular songs. However, Irving was in some sense a proponent of ragtime, reporting on it and encouraging it through his songs. During the ragtime era the ratio of popular songs (verse and chorus tunes that were about any number of topics but not classically composed) to rags, or even rags and intermezzos combined, was at least 20 to 1, and maybe higher. So with Alexander's Ragtime Band, That Mysterious Rag, Oh, That Beautiful Rag and similar tunes, Berlin was simply voicing, or in some cases creating more interest in the music. The success of a song was clear even back then. It needs a good topic and a good musical hook that is easy to remember as well as hum. So for capturing the essence of the ragtime era and making it live far beyond its rumored end in the late 1910s, even with limited syncopation in some of his 1910s pieces, Berlin could very much be considered a viable composer of ragtime, even if not piano rags. Riding high on his successes, Irving gained confidence in himself and his stature as a musician. It should be noted that throughout his career this was never a solo effort, as he never completely gained the necessary skills to notate and arrange his own tunes. With his rudimentary piano skills, which as legend tells it centered around playing the black keys, usually in Gb major, he was able to play sufficient melody and chords to get the general notion of a piece across. But there was usually a ghost writer at his side who turned his ideas into a salable product. Usually in the music industry this person was cited as an arranger, and indeed a few Berlin pieces did have an arranging credit. But for the most part, whether it was initially his decision or that of the other firm's partners, Berlin's name usually stood alone. Among the assistants were composer Cliff Hess, who worked with Berlin from around 1912 to 1917, and later Arthur Johnston and then Helmy Kresa. In some cases a co-composer credit might have been fitting as they worked out some of the chord changes, but it became a Berlin tradition that if it was his melody it was his song. It also became increasingly clear during 1912 and 1913 that he was better able to fit his own lyrics to a proper melody, and collaborations with a handful of lyricists started diminishing, particularly as his solo efforts flew off the store shelves. Irving's induction into ballads came about in a somewhat tragic way. Riding high on the success of his great ragtime hit, Berlin dated Dorothy Goetz, sister of one of his earlier lyricists, E. Ray Goetz, and they married a few weeks later in February of 1912. They took a honeymoon in Cuba where she contracted typhoid fever, finally succumbing to it in June. Berlin was devastated and unsure how to express his grief over the loss. Goetz suggested that he simply write a ballad about his feelings, and When I Lost You became the first of his many heart-wrenching ballads. He would show up as still single on his 1917 draft record, and remained a widower in the 1920 census. However, a tragedy of this proportion would not strike again in his otherwise charmed life.That same year of 1912 he had another monster hit with When That Midnight Choo Choo Leaves for Alabam which quickly found its way to the vaudeville stage, and the following year would yield a number of fine tunes, including the comedy hit Snooky Ookums. On two tunes of that year, published with another firm, he was credited as Ren. G. May, an anagram for Germany, of which the principal city was, of course, Berlin. He also used this credit to record the tunes, still being a pretty fair singer. As far has methodology for turning out popular tunes in short order, Irving demonstrated this ability during a trip to England, as recounted in the Music Trade Review of July 12, 1913: Following the stories from New York regarding Mr. Berlin's ability to dash off a song and sell it for a couple thousand dollars, all in a few minutes, a representative of the Daily Express, of London, called on him for a practical demonstration, and from it wrote the following story: "Upon receiving the request for a song to order, Mr. Berlin said: "'Usually, I get my rhythm and melody complete before I give them to the "arranger." This is a pretty hard test, but I'll try.' "He did. He walked about four miles doing it, in the course of two hours. He was never still a moment. "At the finish a new ragtime had grown before its listeners, all complete, from the introduction and vamp to the final chord of the chorus. Afterwards he made up the words."This is how he did it. The 'arranger' sat at the piano, pencil and paper ready. Irving Berlin started a one-step up and down the room, snapping his fingers and jerking his shoulders as he went. He did this for some time. It was the divine afflatus on marionette wires. "Suddenly he stopped, leaned over the 'arranger,' and 'La-ta-ta-ta-tatata,' he began. 'That's the opening line.' "The 'arranger' wrote down the precious notes and played them. "'Fine,' said Irving Berlin; and off he went again, up and down, to and fro, dancing a one-step to imaginary tunes rollicking through his mind. "'Play it again,' he said, with a snap of his fingers. A minute passed. Irving Berlin clapped his hands to his ears and changed the direction of his walk. It came slowly, but when it did come there was a burst of half a dozen bars. "So, gradually, the ragtime is built up." 'Play it once more. I want to get back to the key,' he says, after a half-hour's ineffectual lum-tum-tums.' "Finally, the chorus, the most difficult of all. It has to be catchy, it has to trip and slide, and stop, and drop from key to key and be lifted back again. It has to 'go.' "With a rush the thing is finished. It has been fitted together like a puzzle, intricate little pieces of melody running haphazard nowhere and fading abruptly as other strains follow, with just a semblance of the motif to keep it together." The title of the on-the-spot song was curiously not mentioned. While popular songs and ragtime-oriented and dance tunes were helping Berlin make his name, there was another inevitability awaiting him, and it was literally just up the street from his office.
Broadway Beginnings
Almost since his collaboration with Snyder began, Irving Berlin songs had found their way into shows on Broadway and 42nd Street through interpolation, and given his past dealings with Tony Pastor he was no stranger to the stage either. However in 1914, Berlin finally released one of the first ragtime-based (more in name than in style) musicals (by today's standards musicals of that time would be considered revues) on Broadway. Few stage musicals at that time, perhaps with George M. Cohan's (who wrote a song lauding Irving Berlin melodies a year later) being the exception,
had songs by any one composer, but Berlin did provide the majority of them for Watch Your Step. His original stated intent was to write a "ragtime opera," although he ended up with a pretty decent revue featuring some syncopation and lots of dancing.For the debut Berlin and his producers already had an ace in the hole, utilizing the recent popularity of the famous dancing couple Vernon and Irene Castle as his stars. Taking some queues from the Ziegfeld Follies, there were even some extravagances displayed on the stage, including a sizable medley of popular opera themes with some syncopation added. The combination of talents in the show made it a great success, and it played initially for 175 performances, a good run at that time. Most of the songs also ended up in print and were sold in the lobby as well as in stores, an added bonus. For the purposes of publishing this show the composer formed his own company, Irving Berlin, Inc., but still remained with Waterson and Snyder who published his popular tunes. One of the tunes in this show quickly gained hit status and eventually became a standard, the finely double-layered Simple Melody (later renamed Play a Simple Melody). The following year he contributed the majority of pieces for Stop! Look! Listen!, which ran for a respectable 105 performances. The standout hit of that show, still with us today, was I Love a Piano, reportedly his favorite tune of all time. After a rather uneventful, and somewhat less prolific year in 1916, Berlin contributed to another show in 1917, Dance and Grow Thin, and tackled the latest musical craze - jazz - with some supposed jazz of his own. The word, which had proliferated into popular usage from late 1916 on, was new, but many song titles started featuring it, including Berlin's own Mister Jazz, Himself. He then did a rare collaboration with the other more established big fish in the Broadway pond, George M. Cohan, and their co-written The Cohan Revue of 1918 previewed on New Year's Eve and ran for 96 performances. Berlin also published the bulk of Cohan's pieces from this period. Some time before that, not yet a U.S. Citizen, Irving was drafted into the United States Army late in 1917, and assigned to Camp Upton at Fort Yiphank. He very quickly took advantage of this situation by writing about it, one of the earliest pieces being a protest song (especially for the musician's lifestyle), Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning. In an effort to keep to his true talent, he persuaded the brass to let him stage an Army-based show utilizing enlisted men, and they agreed. Now not having to keep to regulation hours, Berlin completed Yip Yip Yiphank and staged 32 performances of it utilizing 350 troops. While there was no Over There embedded in the work, two of the songs went on to become big standards, one of them held back for two decades. Mandy, which many associate with the Ziegfeld Follies of 1919, was actually first heard in the Army show, but retooled a year later.However, a more somber tune which was prepared for the Army show ended up being pulled, perhaps even before the first performance. It would not be until 1938 that Berlin would pull out the everlasting God Bless America for its first public performance by singer Kate Smith on Armistice Day of that year. It has since become the most revered and most sung tune in America composed by a Russian Jew simply trying to survive the army. The publications of Yip Yip Yiphank were printed with his promotion clearly shown, composed by Sergeant Irving Berlin. On February 6, 1918, Irving Berlin became a naturalized citizen of his adopted country. Since Irving ended up not actually going into combat he was able to maintain a good songwriting pace, and soon after the war he increased the scope of his own firm, taking on works by other composers as well, finally leaving Waterson, Berlin & Snyder at the end of 1918. In 1919 Florenz Ziegfeld, no stranger to Berlin tunes, asked him to contribute as much as he could to that year's Follies. Along with a revamped version of Mandy he came up with what would become the signature Ziegfeld anthem, A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody. In the Jaunary 1920 Census he is shown as a widower living in Manhattan with a secretary and a housekeeper, his occupation as an author of songs. That same year, Berlin similarly contributed a bounty of tunes to Ziegfeld for the 1920 Follies, but he had something else in the works. Carefully using his considerable profits from his musical endeavors, Berlin decided to exercise more control over the environment that his musicals would be in, as well as the availability of a place to stage him, and along with his new partner Sam Harris financed the construction of his own 1025 seat Music Box Theater on 45th Street. The opening show there was his Music Box Revue of 1921 which ran for a rather astonishing (at that time) 440 performances. Three more similar revues were staged over the next four years, each with declining attendance and shorter runs, although still far from tepid. The last of these Music Box Revues in 1925 featured Fannie Brice, but ran for only 194 performances. The Music Box Theater remained busy with other productions that leased it, and is still in business in the 21st century. In 2007 ownership passed from the Berlin estate to the Shubert Theater Organization.
In 1924 Irving started to date socialite Ellin Mackay, 15 years younger than himself, who would become his second wife. But there seemed to be many obstacles in the way of his convincing her to marry him. Among them, his Jewish heritage and upbringing in poverty, contrasted with the fact that she was a devout Irish-American Catholic and heiress to the Comstock Lode mining fortune. Some of his more stirring ballads came as a direct result of songs he wrote for Ellin, including All Alone, Remember, and the wistful weeper What'll I Do. Finally he won her with singing (a plot theme repeated in the movie Holiday Inn several years later), and just before they were married in January of 1926 he wrote the simple and elegant Always for her as well, assigning all of the (considerable) income from the song to Ellin. She was immediately disinherited by her father, and for a time they were snubbed by many members of society for the inter-faith marriage. Irving and Ellin had a daughter, Mary Ellin, within the year. Linda Emmett and Elizabeth Peters would follow, as would Irving Berlin Jr. who would sadly die in childbirth. Following the traveling patterns of Berlin throughout the 1920s, particularly after marrying Ellin, becomes quite an endeavor, since he is listed on dozens of ship manifests going to Europe, the United Kingdom, the Bahamas, Hawaii, and other exotic ports of call. Berlin liked cruises, but when called upon to perform or accompany (as best he could) on these trips he was often stymied by his Gb playing. So he had either four or five special transposing pianos built for him which allowed the keys to slide back and forth underneath the action, facilitating his playing in a suitable key for any occasion. One of these usually accompanied him on a cruise ship, one in the theater, one at the office, one at home, and there may have been a spare. One of these unique pianos resides today in the American History collection of the Smithsonian Institution. Irving's cleverness would pay off for both him and a group of brothers looking for a vehicle that would exploit their singularly unique talents. So in 1925, based on a book by playwright Irving Kaufman, he came up with a nearly schizophrenic set of songs for The Cocoanuts starring the Marx Brothers in their recently redefined personas as Groucho, Chico, Harpo, Zeppo and Gummo. The first incarnation would run 276 performances, with the brothers constantly adjusting the material to the point where it worked flawlessly. It was revived in 1927 with an additional tune for another healthy run, cementing their inevitable success. Berlin's biggest song of 1926 would turn out to be Blue Skies, soon to become a standard through the voice of a new kid on the block, crooner Bing Crosby, who would be a great proponent of Berlin songs. His final contribution to the stage in the 1920s was for the 1927 Ziegfeld Follies, one of the most ambitious years of Ziegfeld's career in which the entrepreneur staged four shows at one time. That same year brought the beautiful instrumental Russian Lullaby. However, through Bing and the Max Brothers and other connections, a new medium was soon to call for the great Berlin. Hollywood, Then Back to Broadway
While Berlin songs sold well throughout the country, they were mostly performed live in New York through the 1920s. However, in 1927, as synchronized sound film became a possibility, a Vitaphone short came out called The Little Princess of Song starring 13-year-old Sylvia Froos, singing Blue Skies. There was enough interest in the piece that Al Jolson, no stranger to Berlin songs by this time, used it for his pivotal "live dialog" scene in The Jazz Singer shortly thereafter, with Bert Fiske playing an offstage piano while Jolson mimed his own playing.
The movie, that scene in particular, was a sensation, and Blue Skies certainly did not suffer. It went on to be heard on recordings and in movies a panoply of styles, including one 21st (or 24th) century rendition by singer/actor Brent Spiner as Data in the tenth Star Trek movie. But it also meant that Berlin songs could potentially be heard virtually anywhere as performed by stars of the screen. In the early days of sound when dialog was still difficult to capture, but music was much easier to record, many of the earliest sound films became musicals, and they drew on whatever they could find in order to both have new material and capitalize on the subsequent sales of sheet music or records. Berlin was happy to oblige this new trend, and stepped up to the plate.The Cocoanuts finally made it to film via Paramount in 1929, but more than half the tunes were cut from the movies, because without intermissions like live stage shows, people seemed less likely to sit through a full two hour production. However, MGM and other studios would eventually find a way to pack almost as much music into a film as a stage production, often focusing on a single composer for those films. One Berlin song composed in 1929 for a film released in 1930 would actually have four more resurgences over the next few decades, and is clearly an exciting standard today. Written just ahead of the depression, Puttin' On the Ritz (for the film of the same name) combined ragtime and jazz with danceability in a song about snooty rich people. It was retooled in 1946 for Fred Astaire in the movie Blue Skies, becoming much more popular with the newer lyrics. Mel Brooks made it a centerpiece of his 1974 film Young Frankenstein, and later in 2007 as a huge production number for the stage version of the story. And in the early 1980s Danish singer called Taco Ockerse made it into a techno-pop retro-hit in Europe and the United States. In 1929 ragtime veteran Al Jolson asked for more material for his new film career, and ended up with five new Berlin songs in My Mammy, released 1930. One more film keeping Irving busy was Hallelujah with another pair of songs. While traveling to Hollywood to facilitate the incorporation of his tunes into film from time to time, Berlin still stayed firmly based in Manhattan while not off on a cruise ship. He is shown there in the 1930 Census with Ellin and Mary Ellin, a self-employed composer of music. Notable films over the next decade that would feature Berlin music include Top Hat (1935), featuring Cheek to Cheek; Follow the Fleet (1936), featuring Let's Face the Music and Dance; the all-Berlin film On the Avenue (1937); another Berlin song extravaganza filled with ragtime-era classics
Broadway took quite a hit during the Great Depression as it was much less expensive to create and distribute a film than it was to employ fifty or more people every night for a stage production. So some of them were scaled back or less performances held. Just the same, there were enough people in Manhattan well enough off and in need of entertainment that the producers pressed on, including Berlin and Harris. In 1932 he came out with the political satire Face the Music, and the following year with a play lauding the new president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, in As Thousands Cheer, a play in which cast members played several different roles, perhaps a cost-cutting measure. This show ran more than a year, achieving 400 performances in the first run. It also had an embedded tune called Heat Wave which found plenty of favor in the 1950s when sexy new star Marilyn Monroe infused new meaning into it. Another piece, which started out in 1917 as Smile and Show Your Dimples, was retooled with the same melody into the piece Her Easter Bonnet. It eventually found success when it was later retitled as Easter Parade, although it took five film appearances before the piece would take off. Berlin's publishing empire remained consistent and busy throughout the 1930s as well, and he had the good fortune to have been contracted by Walt Disney to put many of that studio's works into print, including all of the songs from the stellar hit, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, and later Pinnochio and Dumbo. The face of Broadway would change in the wake of musicals such as Snow White and The Wizard of Oz where gradually the songs featured in these stories would actually be part of the story, forwarding the plot, rather than just assembled for the sake of putting a song at a certain point in the story. Many consider the dawn of the modern musical to be Rodgers and Hammerstein's Oklahoma in 1943, and it does contain the elements of character-based songs that have more context within the story than if sung alone. However, Berlin approached this concept fairly successfully in 1940, at age 52, with the satirical comedy Louisiana Purchase, a similar idea to that of Oklahoma. It ultimately ran a respectable 444 performances, and in 1941 was made into a less than successful Paramount film with Bob Hope in the lead. Given the tone of the musical and the story emphasis on the songs, it yielded no lasting hits. But there were other worries in the world at that time, and they came to a head in December of 1941 with the American entry into World War II. Again, Sergeant Irving Berlin would be there to rally for the cause. The Berlin Renaissance
Patriotic was once again very much in vogue in 1942, and this time it was Uncle Sam that approached Berlin, asking him to repeat what he had done for morale in World War I with Yip Yip Yiphank. He quickly revived some of the old tunes, came up with new ones, and This Is the Army was born. It cleverly included the staging of Yip Yip Yiphank in the plot, spanning both of the wars. While the initial run was only 113 performances, as personnel were constantly being shipped off, but continued to tour the country and the world throughout the war. The unit formed to stage this and other shows for the military still exists into the 21st century.
This Is the Army was made into a fairly successful movie in 1943 featuring future California politicians George Murphy and Ronald Reagan, with a cameo by Berlin himself singing Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning, which required some technical prowess by the sound crew to pull off since his voice recorded so softly. Berlin also toured extensively during the war, playing in the African, European and Pacific theaters, often shortly after a location had been liberated. After the war, President Harry Truman awarded him the American Medal of Merit for his contributions to troop morale.His contributions to morale at home were also important, and again extended to film, with the big hit of 1942 yielding quite a surprise. Asked by Paramount to come up with pieces for a film based on American holidays, with a special song for most of them, Irving was sure that his Easter Parade would finally be the hit he had hoped for when featured in Holiday Inn with Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire. What he didn't see coming was that Bing would turn a simple Christmas tune written by a Russian Jewish immigrant into the biggest song hit in history, White Christmas. Except for the initial surge of Elton John's special recording of Candle in the Wind honoring the late Princess Diana of Wales, White Christmas has consistently been the top selling song on records, CD, and digital media combined, the standard to end all standards. Written in the summer of 1940 while he was in Los Angeles, but not released, Berlin found it difficult to capture the religious spirit of Christmas, so called upon the feeling of the season instead. He used the contrast of heat in Beverly Hills in the verse with the desire to be back in the North or Northeast, and seemed to tap that desire in everybody in the country during the difficult war. White Christmas handily won the Oscar for best song at the 1943 Academy Awards as well. There were only a few song releases over the next couple of years, but he did make a handful of contributions in 1945 to the film Blue Skies, again with Astaire and Crosby, released in 1946. Just the same, Berlin, now approaching 60, had something up his sleeve, and the best was yet to come. Rodgers and Hammerstein, after successes with Oklahoma and Carousel, decided they wanted to produce as well, and hired the stalwart and similarly successful Jerome Kern to write a musical based on the life of Annie Oakley. However, he suddenly and literally dropped dead, leaving them with a project and no composer. They decided to take a chance on the aging Berlin, who even though he was getting on in years seemed to be able to turn out viable contemporary melodies. The end result was Annie Get Your Gun, which became a prime vehicle for an already seasoned Ethel Merman. Yet it could have been different, as Irving nearly pulled one of the songs from the production because he was under the impression that his musically-inclined producers did not like it. Fortunately, they kept it in and There's No Business Like Show Business proved to be the show stopper, and put another lasting Berlin hit into the American Songbook. Annie ultimately ran for an astonishing 1147 performances with the original cast, and was made into a similarly successful movie with a couple of new songs added in 1950. In 1948 Berlin contributed new songs to the film which finally made a hit of the title song, Easter Parade. He then put his efforts into another stage musical called Miss Liberty which proved to be somewhat of a disappointment in the shadow of Annie Get Your Gun. Based on events around the Statue of Liberty, and starring Eddie Albert St., it somehow managed 308 performances in the first run, but very few since that time. Determined to score again, Berlin cast Merman in Call Me Madam in 1950, this time with a greater measure of success at 644 performances, and a movie version in 1953. Even more fine hits and recycled favorites appeared in the now-perennial hit White Christmas in 1954, again giving Crosby, this time teamed with Danny Kaye, Vera Ellen, and newcomer Rosemary Clooney, a chance to croon what was by now his most famous tune.A conservative in his politics, Berlin took up the cause of General Dwight D. Eisenhower in the late 1940s, helping him in song as well during his two presidential campaigns with "I Like Ike" songs. In 1955 he was rewarded with a special gold medal for his efforts in contributing to American song. Except for some reprints of earlier material, 1955 appears to have been the first year in almost five decades in which no new Berlin songs materialized, an astonishing run. It appeared that the 67 year old composer was approaching retirement, and there was very little output over the next 6 years. However, at age 74, Berlin graced his Music Box Theater with one last production, Mr. President, starting Nanette Fabray and Robert Ryan. A fictional account of life in the White House, trying to capture the magic of the Camelot idyll of the Kennedy administration, it was not well received by critics or theater goers. After 265 performances it retired, and so did Irving Berlin. In 1966 Berlin would add one final song to his extensive list, An Old-Fashioned Wedding for a revival of Annie Get Your Gun. As he was turning 78 that year, Berlin was interviewed by William Glover of the Associated Press about his possible retirement and lust for life:
"Doin' What Comes Natur'lly," Irving Berlin at 78 keeps on writing music and shunning retirement.
"I do it now because I'm a ham," observes the very chipper elder statesman of Tin Pan Alley. "You try to justify yourself to yourself. "You don't quit working because you get old, but because you want to. Not that I've got anything against people who like to golf or fish. I just don't care for such things, so maybe I'm the one who is pathetic." The first Berlin item just 60 years ago was a set of lyrics for "Marie From Sunny Italy," which earned him 37 cents. Since then there have been more than 900 melodies and the pay has gotten a lot better. The basic task of creativity, however, for such a top-echelon member of the American Soceity of Composers, Authors and Publishers is neither harder nor easier now than it was way back then. "The only inspiration is having a job to do," he succinctly comments. "You start with a talent, but there's got to be a lot of energy and push."... The dean of popular music regards recent trends in the area with equanimity. "You can't judge show business today in terms of yesterday," he says of those who detect a decline in melodious entertainment. "I think it's doing damn good." And although the rock 'n' roll fad has continued longer than he expected, Berlin tolerantly observes, "It's just the kids in revolt. This thing they call the beat - these songs can't possibly live because no one can whistle a beat." [Author: How does one explain Wipeout or My Sharona, much less rap?]... "The days of plugging a song to success are gone," he says. "If you could pick a hit in advance there wouldn't be any failures." Sometimes success is a matter of timing - "If I had published 'God Bless America' when I wrote it in 1918, it wouldn't have been nearly as big as it was in 1938 when Hitler was overrunning Europe. Sometimes it's a matter of astute revision - "I wrote a bad song for Al Jolson in 1929, 'To My Mammy,' but I took a phrase out of it later to become 'How Deep Is the Ocean,' the best ballad I ever did." Then there was a 1917 item, "Smile and Show Your Dimples," which with new lyrics went on to fame as "Easter Parade."... The man who has been called "the last of the troubadours" has a phrase of advice he likes to share. Looking down the years, Berlin repeats it again: "You've got to take your blessings as they come." In spite of his talk of forging forward, Irving and Ellin started spending ever more time in their country home in the Catskill Mountains rather than their Beekman Place townhome in Manhattan. He would soon be relegated to the status of an American Icon who appeared on talk shows and the occasional tribute. One of these was the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award in 1968. By the mid 1970s Berlin had all but disappeared from view. His final public appearance was at the 1986 Centennial Celebration of the Statue of Liberty, but due to the onset of health issues he was a no-show for his 100th birthday celebration held in 1988.
Ellin Berlin died in 1987 at age 85. Irving Berlin finally was taken by a heart attack at the remarkable age of 101, and this humble Russian Jew who honored his adoptive home by giving it lasting musical voice was interred in Woodlawn Cemetery in The Bronx, New York. He left behind his three daughters, nine grandchildren, six grandchildren, and a grateful public who still enjoy his creativity today. Famed composer Jerome Kern, when asked about Berlin's place in American music, said that Irving Berlin has no place in it. "Irving Berlin is American Music." God Bless America and the memory of Irving Berlin. | ||||||||||
Mike Bernard was a considerable talent in many fields, including inventing some of his own biography, which made research frustrating at times. Hopefully this biography will cover enough of the facts and anomalies to present a somewhat accurate picture. While conventional sources show him as born in 1881 or 1884, his age in the 1900 and 1910 U.S. Census records indicate a probable 1874 birth year, and locating a draft record was difficult, so this is inconclusive. To further compound the issue, the 1900 Census, which is usually fairly accurate, lists his birth month as May, not March. The March 17th date may have been a gimmick to give him more of a contrived Irish heritage (he was actually born to German parents). The 1880 Census indicates a possible 1872 or 1873 date, which could explain the absence of a draftt record. For consistency with the best verifiable information this essay will stick with 1874.
Mike was possibly born Michael Bernhard to Ferdinand and Emmilia Bernhard in New York state. If so, he was the only boy of five children, his sisters being Josephine (1870), Maria (1875), Anna (1876) and Liesa (1880). The 1880 Census showed the family living in Buffalo, New York with Ferdinand listed as a laborer. Discovered to be both precocious and talented at an early age, Michael received good musical training in his youth, eventually going to Germany around 1892 to study at either the Berlin Conservatory of Music or the Stern Conservatory (the former cannot confirm his attendance, and the latter has lost the records from that time). He reportedly played a performance in front of Kaiser Wilhelm II during this time.Once back in New York City in late 1895, Mike heard his first ragtime as played by white composer/performer Ben Harney (who claimed to have invented the ragtime genre in part) and decided he also wanted to play the music that Harney was doing; Ragtime. So he learned what he could from Harney, who was a couple of years older, while at the same time working up the prowess to challenge Harney's position in New York vaudeville. Before long either Bernard or his quickly accumulating fans dubbed him the "Rag-Time King of the World." This could have been prompted by his 1899 composition, The Rag-Time King: A Symphony In Rag-Time. The historically designated originator of the moniker was Richard K. Fox, owner of the famous pink National Police Gazette weekly newspaper that reported on entertainment and sporting and anything salacious in the city and beyond. After spending a few months in the orchestra pit as music director for Tony Pastor's theater, the most popular vaudeville spot in New York through the 1880s and 1890s, Mike joined Harney on stage as a resident ragtime pianist. The first located public notice of him performing there in any capacity was in the New York Times of April 8, 1896. Bernard was among a list of performers listed at Pastor's for "the annual benefit of Harry S. Sanderson, including well established acts like Weber and Fields and Matthews and Bulger. There were several notices to follow in the weekly entertainment listings, and Bernard was soon engaged all about town. While never a prolific composer, Mike did try his hand at a few pieces starting in 1896. His first, The Belle of Hogan's Alley with lyrics by James W. Blake, was based on an early comic in the New York Sunday World. It was dedicated to pioneer Sunday comics artist R.F. Outcault (Richard Felton), whose most famous enduring character was The Yellow Kid, the likeness of which appears on the cover with other Outcault creations. A Times notice from March 19, 1899, notes that Mike was one of the few performers featured at the first of a series of Sunday evening concerts held at the Academy of Music. The 1900 Census shows Bernard living in New York City as a pianist, and married for around a year to May Bernard, who was 19 years old to his 26. There was a well-promoted and much-hyped ragtime piano competition on January 23, 1900, run by Fox and the Police Gazette. In the January 20 issue printed just prior to the contest, the following announcement appeared: "Many eyes are on the diamond-studded trophy... The ragtime contest will settle a much vexed question... since the coon melodies became popular... We assure our readers that in the first place the best man will win... an artist who belongs in an obscure country town has as much chance to win as anyone... Acknowledged leader of the ragtime players is Mr. Michael Bernard, leader of the orchestra at Pastor's and whose fame as a manipulator of the ivories has spread through the land. If ever there was a champ, he is one." It seemed that the fix was in, and indeed Bernard did secure his trophy and earned his title, with few if any complaints from those who participated.There were a few dissenters from outside the Pastor's circle, however. As noted in the 1950 book They All Played Ragtime by Rudi Blesh and Harriet Janis, pianist Jake Schaefer, who was "persona non grata" at Pastor's theater, chimed in on Bernard's status with the Police Gazette, who printed his letter: "I see where Mike Bernard is to give a ragtime contest and bills himself the champion of the world. I feel called upon out of duty to myself to respectfully dispute his claim to the title. I have played in contests all over the country and won first honors in every one in which I competed. I have played against the best of them and as I have never been defeated in open contest I was generally looked upon as the champion if there is such a thing among rag players. Has Mr. Bernard ever won any equitably conducted contests or has he competed against any of the leaders?
"I do not say I can defeat Bernard, but I would like a chance to prove whether I can or not. While I have had little trouble in defeating all my comptetitors of course there is no telling when you will rub up against your superior. If matters can be satifactorily arranged, I will play against Bernard but not on his terms. He suggests that the judges be selected from the audience. It is just like a boxer with a traveling combination who is meeting all comers. When an outsider comes on the stage he is handicapped in that he is a stranger; the boxer with the company is not out to get the worst of it and the managers do not as a rule try to give him the bad end... "I would be glad to have a try at Bernard under the following conditions which all are bound to admit are fair: Each contestant to name two judges who can play ragtime music and have the four select a fifth; each one o the five to show his ability to judge by playing a number of selections. In that way both would get a fair show... As a gracefel suggestion, I might say that colored folk be selected as judges..." The Police Gazette responded to Schaefer's call for a challenge to have him compete, but did not fully accept his terms.
"In regard to the judge question, those selected from an audience are all right from any standpoint... One of the judges in this case will be a representative of the Police Gazette and he will not be biased in favor of of anyone." Whether Schaefer showed up for the competition on January 23 is unclear. That Bernard won by popular acclaim is very evident.Mike became the talk of the town among pianists and ragtime fans. This win gave him great visibility, and soon his name was making headlines beyond the Police Gazette, getting more notice in the standard newspapers of New York, Chicago and Los Angeles. Occasionally the Gazette sponsored or promoted some of the many ragtime competitions in which Harney and Bernard participated, with Bernard usually coming out victorious, but these were found in a variety of theaters as well, in an environment not too dissimilar from today's wrestling matches. The Gazette in particular gave out a fabulous diamond medal and a trophy for their competitions, and similar prizes were handed out for contests held at Tammany Hall during that period in which Mike mostly, but not always, fared very well. In particular, Bernard was known for concert-grade arrangements of tunes complete with sound effects produced by the piano, and for his ability to also syncopate the left hand and pass melodic lines between hands. It appears that for a short time he secured a position with well-known publisher E.T. Paull, as announced in The Music Trade Review of September 28, 1901. "One of the best known piano players in the country is Mike Bernard. He has won many contests for piano playing, and is well known throughout the continent. Mr. Bernard has joined the forces of the E. T. Paull Music Co., and will devote all his time to furthering the firm's interests and he will doubtless prove a valuable acquisition in every way. He has just written the music to a clever song entitled 'Since Sally's in the Ballet,' Vincent B. Bryan having written the words. Another good number by Mike Bernard is 'The Phantom Dance...' With Bert Morphy - the general manager, Mike Bernard and [manager] Harry Rogers, things should certainly hum at 46 West Twenty-eighth street, New York." Another notice in the October 26 edition of the same journal noted that "Mike Bernard, well known as the champion long distance piano-player, and who 'banged the box' six seasons at Tony Pastor's, is now the manager of the professional bureau of the E.T. Paull Music Company... He informed The Review that he is going to spring a surprise on the public soon. What it is he will not say." Other than the two publications mentioned, nothing more of Bernard's appeared under the Paull logo, and perhaps the surprise turned out to be that their association was somewhat short-lived. New Yorkers loved vaudeville, and they loved contests involving musical prowess, and Bernard regularly delivered in both. He appeared in nearly every major vaudeville house in the city, seen hopping theaters in the trade and public notices perhaps once a month at times, and appearing at many benefits as well. One New York Times notice of February 21, 1904 described one such event: "There were merry doings at the Stroller's Club in Madison Avenue last night. The twenty-third 'roister' was held amid general rejoicing and with a large attendance. The miniature theater up stairs was crowded. The entertainment was furnished by vaudeville 'doubles' and 'singles' for prizes... The 'singles" were George Wilson, George W. Bandy, Mike Bernard, Joh Hathaway, Hugh Flaherty, Fred Haywood and R. Barrow. At a late hour last night the judges were still undecided as to who had won."During his rise to fame, and even after his death, Bernard was both regarded and reviled by many, not so much concerning his ego, which was backed up by his fine performances, but as a white pretender to a black music form. While this contention shows up in occasional articles mentioning Bernard or Harney in the early 1900s, as well as later interviews with some of his black peers, it appears in a much more prescient form in They All Played Ragtime. Blesh made his feelings clearly known about white musicians in ragtime and jazz in his 1943 lecture series at the San Francisco Museum of Art, so this negative representation was not unexpected. However, historically, it should be noted in spite of the advantage of having access to more privileges as a white player in society that Bernard's recordings on Columbia records, which were possibly started as early as 1909, speak volumes about his skill. He did not necessarily play "authentic negro ragtime," but he did play and compose ragtime in a style that was hard to surpass. It has been reported (hard to substantiate) that Eubie Blake once saw Bernard's name listed for a cutting contest, and Blake demurred from playing there in spite of his own considerable skill because he knew that Mike was clearly a public favorite. Even composer George Gershwin had mentioned Bernard as an early influence to which he was indebted for his playing style, particularly the left-hand passages. Mike was touring on the West Coast and in the Midwest with a vaudeville troup from some time in 1907 to perhaps 1909. Also in this troupe for part of the time was singer Blossom Seeley, and she and Mike did a short act together as partners during that time. There is some evidence in a divorce suit filed by her first husband Patrick Curtin that she and Bernard were perhaps an item during part of that tour, suggesting at least a separation if not a divorce for Mike during that period. He also released a rag in 1908 which he was performing on stage, The Stinging Bee. It would be followed in 1910 by Lemon Drops. Mike is listed in 1910 as a single 36 year old theater pianist in Manhattan and staying at the Hotel Cadillac. May does not appear with him in that Census An April 9,1910 advertising notice in The Music Trade Review stated that: "Mike Bernard, the celebrated ragtime pianist, who, some years ago, won the Richard K. Fox gold medal for ragtime piano playing against a number of the most skillful performers who could be brought together in New York, is again distinguishing himself in vaudeville. Mr. Bernard recently added to his already long repertoire 'Where the River Shannon Flows' and 'Temptation Rag' [Henry Lodge], two Witmark numbers which are cutting a very important figure in the popular music of the day. This remarkable pianist is more than pleased with the success which he is having with these two new acquisitions." A notice in the New York Times of May 1, 1910, describes the short-run show Paris By Night at the Hammerstein Theater, in which he appears with Bert Williams among other notable vaudeville actors and singers.
A Music Trade Review article of July 23, 1910, noted another publisher association for the pianist: "Mike Bernard has formed a partnership with Karl Tausig, and they have entered the song writing field, Mr. Tausig writing the lyrics and Mr. Bernard the music. Charles K. Harris is their publisher and he will issue several of their songs in the near future. 'That Tickling Rag' instrumental by Mr. Bernard is out, and Mr. Tausig is writing words for it." In spite of this buzz in the industry, it appears that the partnership did not work out as evidence of any Bernard and Tausig compositions is hard to come by. On August 23, 1910 the Review again gave Mike a couple of descriptive column inches: "The Chicago Daily Journal speaks as follows of Mike Bernard, the well-known ragtime pianist, who is playing the fascinating Witmark number 'Temptation Rag': 'Bernard gives a piano-playing exhibition that looks like an acrobatic sideshow and sounds like a speeding pianola. Bernard plays the 'Temptation Rag' and Paderewski's masterpiece [unspecified] with the same elemental motive of force.' " Another pair of Witmark Publications would come out in 1911, his last two authentic rags, The Race Horse Rag and Panama Pacific Rag. The latter was four year in advance of the 1915 Panama Pacific Exhibition in San Francisco, so the reference for the title is not clear. It is known that around 1910, as Mike was beginning his brief recording career, that one of his most popular works was The Battle of San Juan Hill which evidently recalled the famed 1898 Cuban conflict with bugle calls, patriotic tunes, and various gunnery effects. These can also be heard on his Columbia recording of the piece. It has been reported that Bernard was paid as much as $10,000 for his early recording sessions, given the expected sales of those records based on his popularity. He made the bulk of his known records for Columbia in 1912, 1913 and 1918, having been one of the few ragtime pianists actually recorded during this period. Mike also toured during these years, appearing in notices all around the country from Chicago to Los Angeles, advertised with various vaudeville acts as the 'King of the Ragtime Pianists.' One of his frequent stage partners was fellow Willie Weston with whom Mike had co-composed a few works. Another partner was noted in a February 1, 1912, Los Angeles Times blurb: "Mike Bernard, Blossom Seeley's one-time partner, has hooked up professionally with Amy Butler, and the two are coming over the Orpheum circuit." Their association appears to have lasted two seasons. He also appeared on many bills with singer Jack Rose.After Blossom, Mike became involved with singer and Ziegfeld Girl Dorothy Zuckerman, who went by Dolly. Whether they were actually married or not is still an unresolved matter. The couple had a child on January 22, 1914, Bertram Bernard. Within a couple of years Bertram was sent to live in Queens with his maternal grandfather, confectioner Benjamin Zuckerman, so Dolly and Mike could go their own ways and pursue their separate careers. Dolly died before she was forty. In 1918 after Original Dixieland Jazz Band pianist Henry Ragas died, Mike was afforded an opportunity to audition for that slot, although the job ultimately went to composer and pianist J. Russel Robinson. Bernard left New York soon after the war, and spent a few years based in Chicago, also working on the Midwest and Western Vaudeville circuit. He is seen in regular notices of appearances as early as July 1918. It was most likely while in Chicago or on the road he met and married his third (or second, depending on Dorothy's status) wife Katherine (or Catherine) Bernard. She appears with him in the 1920 Census as 18 years old and married to Mike, who is a bit vainly listed as 36. This may be an error on the part of the Census taker, or a deliberate error of vanity on his part, being 46 and married to an 18-year-old. She also is listed as a vaudeville entertainer, possibly a singer. They had a son, Jules, in late 1921. As for Bert, Mike seldom saw his first son except for occasions when he would send a car to bring him to a performance. By 1922 Mike had returned to New York City to live. He saw Bert somewhat more often, reportedly keeping a piano at Zuckerman's candy shop to entertain the neighborhood. According to Mike's grandson, Bert was bitter towards his father as a result of the inattention. The 1930 Census shows Mike still married to Katherine, although there is a curious question as to their overall status in 1920 since she was now 29 and stated she married at age 26. Their son Jules also appears as 8 years old. Of further question is Bernard's own age, now listed as 50, which is inconsistent with previous census records and even with his generally accepted birth date of 1881. However, he is still shown as a professional musician, now living in Queens, not far from his first son who was in his mid teens. Bertram later went to Julliard for musical training, but it did not suit him and he ended up working as an immigration lawyer. Mike appeared at a Depression era actors aid benefit in April 1931. The event was hosted by the Friar's Club and Roxy's Gang, and included a wide variety of vaudeville entertainers old and new, with Mike being the last entertainer listed, part of the "Roxy contingent." An April 1935 luncheon was held to honor British music hall singer Vesta Victoria, who had made a splash in the 1890s and early 1900s. In the New York Times report on the event at which Mike was one of the entertainers, he was described as "while playing the piano at Tony Pastor's [he] introduced the jazz number, 'The Twelfth Street Rag.' " But Mike's big return to the news that month was during a Friar's Club event at which New York Mayor Fiorello H. LaGuardia spoke on relief efforts and the merits of entertainment. WIth Mike Bernard and songwriter Joe Howard (Hello Ma Baby and I Wonder Who's Kissing Her Now), he included some musical interpolations from the ragtime era. As noted in the April 9, 1935 New York Times, " 'Ragtime as originated by Mike Bernard is a permanent part of music in this country,' he asserted. 'It is always melodious, and its syncopated counterpoint follows established rules of harmony. Contrast it with the shrills of woods and the shrieks of brasses we hear today. I don't believe such stuff can possibly live.' " This was high praise and a pretty good grasp of musical jargon by His Honor. Bernard spent his final years playing at a nostalgic joint in New York called Bill's Gay Nineties, drawing a crowd even during the depression. His last notice in the New York Times of June 13, 1936, noted that "Mike Bernard, ragtime pianist, has returned to Bill's Gay Nineties," which was following a short absence from that regular gig. Bernard died two weeks later at the age of anywhere from 55 to 62. The death certificate, which incorrectly states his age as 51, listed his cause of death as "cellulitis of pelvis caused by extravasation of urine behind an old gonorrheal stricture of the posterior urethra," essentially complications from a venereal disease, one of the hazards of the sporting life lived by many ragtime performers. His exploits and his contributions to the popularity of ragtime among all races still live on into the 21st century. Newly uncovered information on Bernard is emerging in late 2010, thanks to the efforts of Elizabeth Bernard, wife of Mike's grandson, Robert Bernard. She is writing a novel on the eclectic family figure, and we are currently sharing information to better tell Mike's story both in fact and fiction. You can keep track of her progress at The Ragtime King on ragtimeking.com. She was responsible for imparting the information on Mike's first child and possible second wife.
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Leon M. Block did not leave much behind for us to learn about him. His Louisiana Rag remains fairly well known in the ragtime community a century after its composition, but details on Block himself have never been reported. What little was located is presented here. He was born to Bavarian immigrant Louis Block and his Illinois native wife Harriet "Hattie" (Cook) Block in New Madrid, Missouri. They had married in St. Louis in 1867. Leon had two older siblings, Rosena L. (2/1868) and Jacob S. (6/1872). As of the 1880 Census Louis was listed as a retail merchant in New Madrid. By 1900 he had become a farmer, still based in New Madrid. Jacob was a salesman by this time, and Leon was still in school.Nothing is known about Leon's musical education. However he was listed in various locations as a working musician by 1906. His first self-published composition, Theatorium Rag, was released in 1909, presumably printed in St. Louis or Chicago. In the 1910 Census he is shown as a musician on the move, boarding in Shreveport, Louisiana as a musician for a local auditorium. It was here that he would compose his next and most famous work, Louisiana Rag, which was accepted by Chicago publisher Will Rossiter in 1911. It was a fairly brisk seller, in part due to the colorful cover of a beautiful little maid, and many copies of it still exist. The piece is dedicated to "Miss Irene Howley" who was a Chicago stenographer, and around 18-years-old in 1911. Nothing more is know of her. One more self-published piece appeared in 1913, That Hypnotic Rag, under the imprint of Cahn & Block (not the same as the historical Kansas City mercantile) in Shreveport, Louisiana. The identification of Mr. Cahn has not been fully discovered. Leon chose the life of an itinerant musician for much of his life. He traveled as a pianist in a tent show in the Southwest United States for part of the 1910s. At the time of the 1918 draft Leon was living at the YMCA in Memphis, Tennessee, working as an organist for the Majestic Theater on Main Street. There is no listing for him in the quickly taken January 1920 Census, and there is none for Jacob as well. In 1924 he published another song with Leonard G. Harris under the imprint of Harris & Block, this time in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. Leon was still there in 1929 when he published a song with Ohren Smulian, son of a local merchant who had a few other compositions to his name. The following year, Smulian had opened his own department store in Tulsa, Oklahoma, but Block appears to have not followed him there. In the 1930 Census Jacob surfaces a bit to the northeast in Clarendon, Arkansas, working as a wholesale merchant of some kind. There are indications that Leon spent several years there living with his older brother. Leon is found in the 1942 draft listing his address as with his brother in Brinkley, Arkansas, where Jacob had moved, but working at the Evangeline Hotel in Alexandria, Louisiana. Jacob died in the early 1950s and Leon returned to Missouri for the remainder of his life, working as an organist and likely a pianist wherever he could find work. He was evidently based in or near the capitol, Jefferson City, and at least one article from 1965 mentions him as the organist for a wedding held at Memorial Baptist Church. Leon died in nearby Waynesville, about 50 miles south of Jefferson City, in 1969 at age 84. If any family members or others who know anything else concerning the life of Leon Block we would be deeply appreciative for that information which will be acknowledged. |
The legendary ragtime pioneer John William Boone was born to Rachel Boone in 1864. Census records have indicated a range of birth years from 1862 to 1866, but 1864 is the most accurate year of birth according to the author's research. Rachel was an escaped slave from Kentucky who found a position as a "contraband cook" for the Union Army in Miami, Missouri. A mulatto, she claimed to be an indirect descendant of famed American Daniel Boone, a claim with some measure of credibility, and kept that name. John's father was a white bugler with the Union Army.
Given that information, the Union Army records show only one bugler in an applicable at that time period, Private William S. Belcher of Company F of the 3rd Regiment, Missouri State Militia Cavalary, then later with the 7th Regiment in the same capacity as bugler. Not only was he in the Miami area around the probable time of conception, but further investigation into Army records reveal that he was on a furlough to Miami about the time of John's birth in 1864. The furlough turned into an attempt to enlist with the 23rd Missouri Infantry the day after John's birth, which turned into a desertion charge from the Union Army and a conviction. After the war he married and became a farmer. It is unclear if he ever had more than peripheral contact with his son for whatever reasons. Shortly after John's birth Rachel moved to Warrensburg, Missouri. She is shown there in 1870 working in washing and ironing, and was working for many prominent families in the area. Curiously, John, now called Willie, was shown as only 4 years old in that Census, and he had another brother, Wyatt, father unknown, who is shown as 2 years old in 1870.
At age 7 he received a French harp as a gift, quickly learning to tune and play it. This allowed him to earn some extra income, even before he was 8, playing it at various functions or in people's homes. When he was eight, Rachel ended her life as a single mother by marrying Harrison Hendrix, and eventually the couple added five more siblings to Willie's family. They moved to a one room cabin, but by all reports it was a loving household, and Willie remained close to his step-siblings throughout his life. In an effort to accommodate her son's needs, Rachel enrolled Willie at the Missouri School for the Blind in St. Louis, with the generous help of donations by neighbors and townspeople, both black and white. Some also funded the train trip, and made him clothes to take along. His blindness and pure joy in life helped make all of them color blind as well. He left Warrensburg in the fall of 1873. It was clear early on that Willie was not happy at the school, and instead of communing with his own classmates, he preferred to listen to older students practice in the music room. One of them, Enoch Donley, befriended Willie and taught him basics of technique, and also introduced him to a piano teacher at the school. After a year of work, Boone was able to play virtually anything he heard with commendable technique. The situation at the school changed within a couple of years, and a new supervisor was put in place, changing the way black students were treated. Willie was removed from most of his musical access and taught to make broom instead. In order to play he escaped the school at night (presumably with some assistance) and started hanging around the nearby tenderloin district where early forms of what would become ragtime were being performed. While he was able to pick up a lot from listening to the brothel and bar pianists, he was eventually caught enough times that he was expelled from the school. Forced to live on the streets, he played where he could, often in churches, and even sang to people in public places like train depots for money. Nearly starving, a conductor found him and managed to get him back to Warrensburg and his mother. Back home, Willie continued to play in homes, halls and churches. It was in a church where he was giving a small concert that John Lange, a local contractor and successful black businessman, first heard Boone play. He was substantially impressed, and after some time decided to expand his scope of business operations, becoming one of the first African American managers of a concert artist. In preparation for sending Willie out into the world, Lange sent him to Christian College in Columbia for advanced musical training with Anna Heuerman. It was here that he learned a great love for classical music, which he was quickly able to emulate, and even duplicate, sometimes on the first or second hearing. After sufficient training, Boone came home, and with Lange formed the Blind Boone Company, adopting the motto Merit, Not Sympathy, Wins. Based in Columbia, the pair set out to make Boone famous, with resounding results - albeit slowly resounding.
This was Boone's own pianistic representation of an F4 tornado that tore through Marshfield, Missouri on April 18, 1880, killing 99 people and injuring at least another 100. Descriptions of Boone's performance conjure up a tour de force of effects that potentially had a detrimental effect on the instrument, and it became his signature piece. Marshfield Tornado was never recorded or printed as Boone wanted it to be entirely his, each performance to be unique. In truth, it is questionable whether a player piano could have fared well with the onslaught of notes from Boone's hands. One newspaper described it as follows: The piece is a variation, beginning with the quiet of the Sabbath morning at church, the approaching storm and the roaring destruction as it sweeps over the town. The noise dies down and peace again reigns." The early years of the show were difficult, but necessary to build Boone's reputation. Lange, Boone, and perhaps a couple of other, traveled the Midwest in a wagon carrying a piano with them, allowing them to set up wherever they needed and avoid the reservations some white piano owners might have about the boy's taking over of their instrument. However, this was hard on the instrument physically, and part of the budget from the income was set aside for replacement pianos every few months. As Boone's reputation grew, it seems that a good piano was more readily available at their destinations, and eventually they did not have to travel with one. They also often stayed with a local sponsor to avoid hotel expenses, but the home base was in Columbia. In the June 1880 Census, Boone is shown as one of many residents in the home of Columbia farmer Alfred Woods and his large family, although no profession is listed. As Boone and Lange grew their show, Lange would hire somebody to set out a week or more ahead of the troupe for public relation purposes, advertising the coming of Boone with posters and word of mouth. Notices in the paper comparing Boone with the already established "Blind" Wiggins didn't hurt either, such as this one with an off-handed sleight towards the older artist from the Gettysburg Compiler of June 9, 1885: "Poor Blind Tom, the alleged[!] pianist, is discovering that another black pianist, known as Blind Boone, but who Tom considers anything but a boon to him, is about to become a formidablee rival in concert business." While Blind Tom had his own niche and a considerable lock on Midwest concert halls, the report was more or less predictive. By the end of five years, when Boone was approaching 21, the company had no problem getting booked in towns or cities of every size. The reviews were positive and more money was also coming in, so Boone and company were living well by the time the 1890s came around. In 1891, John married Eugenia Lange, his manager's youngest sister. They remained together for the rest of his life. According to and article in a May 1893 edition of Kunkel's Musical Review, the Blind Boone Concert Company was in town for four weeks, and the star was greatly lauded. "His playing is remarkable, not because of his blindness, but because of his artistic excellence. John W. Boone is justly considered the successor of the celebrated [Louis Moreau] Gottschalk. He grasps with marvelous rapidity any composition played for him, and the most difficult pieces are played after single reading. His engagements here drew crowded houses nightly." The company also grew in size over the next decade, as Lange and Boone added vocalists to the show, including Emma Smith, Melissa Fuell, Marguerite Day, Stella May (just 16 when she was recruited) and Josephine Huggard They also expanded their reach, performing at least 8,000 concerts in the United States between 1880 and 1895, along with performances in Canada, Mexico and Europe. One of Boone's greatest joys was sharing his gifts and enthusiasm with children. He would openly promote his desire for parents to bring their children to his performances in order to bring them to music, and would sometimes bring large groups of them inside the performance hall for free, simply so he could encourage them to also learn the thrill of playing and sharing that gift. It evidently effected a great many youths who ended up working hard to learn to play, some actually becoming fine pianists in churches or theaters. He often gave back to the church community that supported him, providing funds for a great many church and school building or repair projects wherever he went. According to the 1900 Census, Boone was firmly ensconced in Columbia, and Eugenia was now the treasurer for the company. His mother Rachel died in January 1901. Throughout his career Boone had composed a number of number of songs, instrumentals and classically styled pieces, many that were eventually published, including some notable ones between 1900 and 1910. This included the beautiful Aurora Waltz of 1907, reportedly inspired by descriptions of the aurora borealis over the northern hemispher. In 1908 and 1909 he contributed two Medleys to the ragtime collective, largely made up of folk themes and some original derivatives. Blind Boone's Rag Medley Number One: "Strains from the Alleys", and Blind Boone's Rag Medley Number One: "Strains from the Flat Branch", were not the same type of ragtime that many other composers had been writing by that time.
During his years as a prominent performer, his endorsement was sought out be certain piano companies, and in the end the Chickering Piano Company of Boston, Massachusetts, would offer him the biggest incentive of all. Chickering, perhaps Steinway's biggest U.S. rival at that time, offered him a large oak nine food concert grand in 1891 which he enjoyed enormously. (It is now kept in the Boone County Historical Society in Columbia, Missouri, and can still be played.) They made several others for him over the years which he routinely wore out. However, his name did show up in connection with other instruments from time to time. Among those were Steinway and Estey, the latter being a famous organ builder as well. In The Music Trade Review of July 6, 1901, a letter of endorsement to Bush and Gerts was quoted: "The Bush & Gerts piano is a fine instrument, possessing a pure sweet tone, and any dealer may well be proud to handle such a piano. It is bound to make friends wherever it is known and sold." One month later on August 3, 1901, the following was printed in the MTR: Carl Hoffmann, of Kansas City, Mo., is, and long has been, a Chickering enthusiast. The new model Chickering baby grand which he received last week, has, however, compelled more than the ordinary number of adjectives to express his approbation of its musical merits.
While testing this instrument, "Blind" Boone, a negro musician widely known throughout that section, strolled in and became so enamored with the Chickering grand that he purchased it, notwithstanding the fact that he already has several Chickering pianos in his possession. He knows a "good thing" without seeing it. It is said there are few better judges of tone than "Blind" Boone, and it does his judgment credit when he selects a Chickering. In the case of many concert pianists, the highly-regarded Boone in partiular, it seems that any company that could encourage him to wax poetic on their instrument would exploit those words in their favor, in spite of his association with other companies. Another example is found in the May 28, 1910 MTR concerning the R.A. Rodesch player piano: "Blind Boone, who is one of the celebrated pianists of the West, visited our factory just before [President R.A. Rodesch] left and he was so delighted with what he saw and heard that he left an order for one of the players to be installed in his own piano." Yet another Chickering endorsement was printed on October 9, 1915, and it outlines some of his technique for learning new pieces:
— Uses the Chickering Grand for Concerts — Pianist Well Known in the West. One of Boone's last endorsements was found in the February 1, 1919 MTR: "
![]() While at the Sonora music rooms he was furnished, at the request of the Plaza Theatre of that city, with a Kohler & Campbell piano, Style 8, to be used in conjunction with his program, before commencing which he paid the following tribute to the instrument: "I want to thank Mr. Stephenson for the splendid piano which he has so kindly furnished me with that I might be able to render this program. It is one of a rare make, has a beautiful tone, and it has a splendid action. You will find the Kohler & Campbell a remarkable instrument for the price, the base is excellent and any piano that stands my 'Marshfield Storm' is a good one." Boone entered his fourth decade of concertizing in 1910. In late 1912 Boone recorded Rag Medley Number Two and six other tunes from his repertoire to piano rolls for the QRS Piano Roll Company on their Autograph series, one of the first black artists to do so. It is said (hard to verify) that on his recording of When You and I Were Young Maggie that he actually jammed or overloaded the recording mechanism because of the number of notes he was playing in rapid succession at great velocity. One of his favorite concert segments was asking somebody from the audience to play a piece he didn't know (and that was a limited list), after which he would sit down and play it back for them, something that impressed even the highest ranking musicians. It was clear that not only could play virtually anything in the classical style, but that he could also make it his own, infusing Afro-American rhythms and other tricks into the performances. While he didn't quite "rag" the pieces, he did give them a kick that most performers at that time were perhaps not as adept as excecuting.
By 1916 it was estimated that the Boone Company had played over 26,000 concerts in 36 years, suggesting many days where three or four performances were held. But that was perhaps the peak of his career, and his long-time friend and manager John Lange died that same year. The novelty had started to wear off, particularly with a world that was progressing ahead, a world that was at war, and a world that was looking for change. While Vaudeville was still thriving in 1920, the beginning of the "jazz age," and movies were coming into their own, Boone's act was old hat by now. Without Lange the bookings diminished greatly and Boone, once flush with money, found himself and Eugenia struggling to make ends meet. In 1920 John and Eugenia are listed in Columbia with her as the head of household, and neither with an occupation listed. He continued to play sporadically over the next several years, but started to show signs of physical deterioration and other health issues. Yet the positive reviews kept appearing. One from September 8, 1924, from the Cape Girardeau Southeast Missourian stated that "Boone proved himself an artist of great versatality playing classical music with the grace and feeling of a true artist, interpreting folklore selections, and singing them with great drollness, and and whipping off ragtime selections with as musch energy as would Paul Whiteman's best 'tickler over the ivories.'" In December 1925, the same paper reported Boone off on another seven month tour to "Illinois, Kansas, Oklahoma, Corlorado, New Mexico and California. The end was become inevitable, however. His final publice concert was held on May 31, 1927 in Virden, Illinois, during which he announced his plans to retire. Boone's statement found its way into the papers in short order, as partially quoted here: ![]() Blind Boone, negro pianist... brought his colorful concert career of 47 years to a close recently...
After completing a program before a large crowd, the aged musician announced the concert was his final appearance on tour and perhaps his final appearance fo all time. He will reture to Columbia, Mo., this summer and to recover his failing health. It is probable he will give further concerts on special occasions. Columbia was also the home of John [Lange], who for 36 years was Boone's manager. [Lange's] death is believed to have had a telling effect on Boone. In his last concert he was assisted by his niece, Miss Margaret Day, who sang many of his compositions, including "Keep On Till the Judgement." He also played his famous "Marshfield Tornado."... Blind Boone played many concerts in Kansas City, many of them in churches. Years ago one of his regular appearances here was at the old Lydia Avenue Christian church, Fifteenth st. and Lydia av. Always he impressed his audiences with his compositions, his technique, his remarkable memory and a huge watch... [He] would have a "children's program," producing his huge watch. Asked what time it was, he would press a stem and the watch would chime the quarter, half and full hours, to the delight of his juvenile auditors. It was [in Springfield, Illinois] in September, 1909, Boone first met Bert Williams, comedian. The musician called on the singer at the Shubert theater. Williams' dressing room is closed to many of his race, but he welcomed Blind Boone. Complements were mutual... "I feel fully repaid for my so-called affliction," Boone says. "I have music, friends, and am happy." Boone is a business man as well as a musician. His investments have been good. It is estimated his average annual income is about $17,000. Another report the following week in The Afro American claimed he has earned some $350,000 during his career claiming he was worth that much, not accounting for the expenses of travel and life in general along the way. Even with such a high income his growing expenses and payment of debts kept the family from being flush. John W. Boone was felled by a fatal stroke and acute dilation of his heart while visiting his half-brother Harry in Warrensburg in October, 1927. In spite of the grand reports of his impressive income, Boone's estate was worth a mere $132.65. Eugenia was soon reportedly found to be insane, although any record of commitment is difficult to locate. There was not even enough money left to afford a proper marker for his grave.
Fortunately the people of Columbia have since successfully resurrected the memory of Boone, forming the Blind Boone Memorial Foundation, Inc. in 1961. The Chickering oak grand was restored for a concert that same year by the Joplin Piano Company, and the first memorial concert was held using that instrument. They were responsible for marking his grave in 1971, and opening a museum dedicated to him and Missouri folk music. There is an annual ragtime festival held each June in Columbia, Missouri, named in Boones honor, in the grand Missouri theater. His last words speak well of his mission in life, which was most certainly accomplished wherever he went. "Blindness has not affected my disposition. Many times I regard it as a blessing, for had I not been blind, I would not have given the inspiration to the world that I have. I have shown that no matter how a person is afflicted, there is something that he can do that is worthwhile." He proved this beyond the shadow of any doubt, opening doors for a number of African-American artists and businessman through his generosity and extraordinary talent. A great deal of this biography was extracted or assembled from public government records, school records, newspapers, periodicals and commonly known information about Boone. Some of the information was culled from Blind Boone: Missouri's Ragtime Pioneer by Jack A. Batterson with Rebecca B. Schroeder, available from many sellers including Amazon.com. Thanks also to the Blind Boone Ragtime Festival and Blind Boone Park in Warrensburg, Missouri, for their continuing efforts to keep Boone's memory and positive message of hope alive. | |||||||||||||
George Botsford was a man who knew how to write tunes the public liked. He was born in Dakota Territory (South Dakota near present day Sioux Falls) to James G. Botsford (mother's name is shown only as H.M.), and had a younger brother, Charles. George spent his formative years in the Midwest, specifically in Iowa. There was a great deal of pre-ragtime style and influence in this region, as evidenced by the amount and quality of ragtime that eventually emerged from Iowa and Nebraska, so it is likely he was exposed to some of it.
He recieved a fair amount of formal musical training in his youth and proved to be a natural performer. Botsford married singer Della Mae Wilson, the daughter of a music teacher with whom they lived for a time in Centerville, Iowa, later moving eastward to Clermont, Iowa.George is listed in 1900 as a "Theatrical Pianist" so was already likely expected to know some of the latest ragtime tunes and cakewalks. George and Della Mae set out on the road with the Hoyle Stock Company in Nashville, Tennessee, ultimately spending 34 weeks from 1900 to 1901 with the troupe. During that stint the Botsfords may have ventured to New York City in February 1901, as they placed an "At Liberty" ad in the New York Clipper: "George Botsford, Pianist, Director and Arranger, Della Mae Wilson, Comedy Parts, Character and Singing Specialties with Monologue. Address Geo. Botsford, Clermont, Iowa." They spent that summer in Champaign, Illinois, where George directed the orchestra at the Casino Theatre and Della Mae worked with the Bennett Stock Company. That fall they picked up with the Van Dyke & Eaton Company for another successful run on the road that ended in May 1902. Taking the summer off, the Botsfords finally relocated their base to New York City in late 1902 where they would stay for the remainder of George's career. They appear to have done one more season with Van Dyke & Eaton before settling for good in the summer of 1903. While there may have been hopes of a career for Della Mae, ultimately it was George who became the entertainer of the family. One of the first mentions of him after they moved was as a pianist for events held by the Fort Greene Council in February and November 1904, then as an organist at the Brooklyn Lodge of Elks, of which he had become a member, for a large memorial service in December. He was next heard from in 1905 as a vocal director for a large politically based performance at the Monroe Club. George was able to establish a foothold as a composer in 1906 with a couple of pieces published by the New York firma of M. Witmark and Sons, and Tin Pan Alley giant Jerome H. Remick. Among his first published compositions was the song Traveling, the chorus of which was adapted in 1921 by another set of composers as the Iowa Corn Song. George was found that years participating in a July 4 "Pop Concert" on Long Island, where he played along with several other entertainers, including the Edgemere Club Orchestra. This was around the time of his first minor hit, Pride of the Prairie (Mary). In the spring of 1907 he was part of a show called The Haymakers presented in various venues around the New York City area. Botsford soon secured steady work as an arranger and composer for Remick, who had already published some of his work, in late 1907. He would remain with the firm for more than a decade. The following year would be a breakout one for the composer as he introduced his most famous and long-lived rag.Of Botsford's many rags, primarily composed from 1908 to 1913, most contained at least some of the secondary rag pattern, or repeated three over four, of which Black and White Rag of 1908 and Grizzly Bear Rag of 1910 are prime examples. As a result of this pattern, Black and White Rag was easy and enjoyable to play for the average pianist, and it became a runaway hit in short order. It has remained his most enduring syncopated work, and was also one of the first piano rags ever recorded to cylinder, as well as being ubiquitously in use in early sound cartoons of the 1930s. The piece further enjoyed many recordings during the ragtime revival of the 1950s and 1960s. Botsford's momentum clearly picked up in 1909 with a number of good instrumentals. However, that was what he was getting known for, and a changes was in the works. Early in 1910 he joined the staff of the Ted Snyder Publishing Company. His subsequent hit, Grizzly Bear, began a dance craze during a time of animal dances, including the Turkey Trot and the Fox Trot, which prompted its publisher Ted Snyder to have his new protégé Irving Berlin fit some lyrics to it. In this way it counts less as a genuine popular song than it does a retrofit hit, but either way it swept the country. In spite of, perhaps because of his success, George ended up back at the house of Remick later in the year. As noted in a November 1910 clipping in the Music Trade Review: "George Botsford is probably best known as a composer of the more difficult syncopated or ragtime instrumental successes, but with Alfred Bryan, he has turned out a new one in the popular song line that may put him in that class of song writers who write the 'Remick hits,' and a Remick hit means a lot to a song writer in monye and fame." The best was yet to come for Botsford in the song department. George and Della Mae are shown in Manhattan 1910, where he was listed as a music composer. Della Mae also often made the society pages of the New York Times throughout the 1910s in various organizations or hosting public parties, particularly for the Iowa New Yorkers. She was not known to have further pursued her performing career, however, even though she headed the entertainment committe for many functions. George often served as a choral arranger and conductor both on and off Broadway, working in genres such vaudeville, Broadway shows as a pianist, minstrel show revivals, and with the New York Police Department Glee Club. He also frequently advertised for amateur singers offering his services as a vocal coach. An active member of both the Elks and the Friars, he often headlined or even directed their shows on a regular basis. George also wrote the music for a few hit songs, typically with lyricist Jean Havez, of which Sailing Down The Chesapeake Bay of 1912 remains the biggest, and was also a great musical boost for the Baltimore/Washington D.C. area.George had gained a lot of traction by this time, and warranted a rather large writeup in the New York Clipper on February 15, 1913, clearly larger than all of the other composers profiled on that page, and perhaps a bit more effusive than a historical perspective might support: George Botsford, known as the greatest exponent of technical ragtime music and the writer of some of the most popular "piano rags" was born In lowa, in the great farm section, "took" piano lessons from a teacher whose curriculum consisted of Bellak's and Czerny's studies, but who found in young George her most apt pupil, for before the year was out George could play a great deal better than his teacher, and appeared as a prodigy pianist at all the church and district school concerts. When George came to New York and joined the Remick forces only the words of encouragement from Messrs. [Jerome H.] Remick and [manager Fred] Belcher prevented him from going back to good old Iowa. To-day he ranks second to none as the arranger and instructor of trios, quartettes and choruses, and his ensemble chorus work is one of the features of the Remick house. He is really a self-made musician. As a composer he has met with great success, and his "Grizzly Bear" song was the forerunner of most of the ragtime songs so popular to-day. His big instrumental rags, such as "Black and White," "Chatterbox" and "Hyacinth," are novelties in syncopation that have been copied by most every other ragtime writer. The "Hyacinth Rag" is noted as being the most difficult rag for the piano ever written. Among his songs, "Pride of the Prairie, Mary." written for and sung to-day by Ethel Levey; "Denver Town," the original cowboy song, and "Maybe You Are Not the Only One Who Loves Me," have been big hits. His latest and greatest success is the rollicking Winter Song, "Oh, You Silvery Bells," a sleighing song which has superceded every sleigh bell song ever written. During the Winter Mr. Botsford coaches some of the most notable amateur minstrel shows, such as the Brooklyn Elks, the Harmomie Club, the Friendship Club, and his work in that line is without doubt equal to that of any professional stage director.
Soon after this George went to the American Piano Company (AMPICO) studios to record his only known piano rolls for the Rythmodik label. Only nine titles were known to have been performed by Botsford, all of them duets with Remick composer and arranger Albert Gumble. Some of them were later issued on the AMPICO label following the demise of Rythmodik. They remain the only audio documents of Botsford's fine playing, until perhaps a rare radio show transcription turns up.
In an article in the New York Times on July 24, 1913, it was stated that prima donna Cecil Cunningham would appear in vaudeville for the first time at Proctors, "using a singing sketch entitled 'The Married Ladies' Club,' by Jean C. Havez and George Botsford." Another article on March 8, 1915, highlighting an actor's fund benefit vaudeville entertinament, mentioned that it was directed by Botsford, and that he and his Harmonists took part by closing the program. George became one of the charter members of ASCAP in 1914. In the mid 1910s Botsford experimented with the concept of miniature opera, a one-act opera staged with a minimal cast and a small instrumental ensemble. Among these was one presented in early 1914, The Dutch Courtship, followed another presentation in the summer of 1915 at the grandest of all the vaudeville theaters, The Palace, A Holland Romance, possibly a reworking of The Dutch Courship. Both were composed to lyrics by Jean Havez and featured some notable talent in the cast. In spite of the considerable effort, the miniature operas ultimately failed to take hold, and the music contained in them was difficult to market in sheet music form. Botsford, the consumate music professional, clearly had a sense of humor to some extent, given the shenanigans in which he participated at various Elks and Friars functions. But as a professional he also had some frustrations which were cleverly channeled into a piece that appeared in the New York Clipper on June 6, 1917: George Botsford, noted arranger, quartetter, producer, pea'nist, remover of harm from harmonies, and inserter of mellow in melodies, rises to the boiling point and wishes to be heard. George has been suffering long in silence, and at last wants it recorded that the following should be pasted on the walls of each piano room, and labelled "Goat Getters."1 — The singer who starts talking just as you get through playing the vamp. 2 — The "friend" of the singer who carries on a conversation while you are demonstrating a song. 3 — The singer who says he can read notes and can't. 4 — The singer who asks you to play the introduction, when you have played the song, including the introduction, enough times to have taught a blind man the words. 5 — A quartette with only three people. Likewise a two-act with one missing. 6 — The vocalist who uses his own words and hates to be corrected. 7 — The wise one who says "I sing all my songs in 'B' flat." Maintaining a position as a bandleader or conductor, Botsford managed to make inroads with some major publishers who kept his compositions in front of the public for many years. In his capacity as an arranger with Remick, George worked with manager Jens Bodewalt Lampe as part of one of the more efficient staffs in the industry, an organization with incredibly high standards for turning out socres without errata. He is shown on his 1918 draft record as employed by Remick in the capacity of musician, and not composer, doing much less of the latter by this time. Among his contributions to the Remick catalog were pieces in Bodewalt's Star Dance Folio series of the 1910s and 1920s. Botsford's composition and performance revenue was fairly substantial, and the Botsfords had a home address literally on Broadway by the mid 1910s. A passport issued in August 1918 indicates that he traveled to England, where many Broadway shows and American performers were finding success. He was also stationed for a time in France as part of the Over Seas Entertainment Unit towards the end of World War I, returning in late February 1919. One of the last public notices of him in the New York Times is on April 21, 1919, when he is mentioned as arranging a specialty number of a "Cycle of Songs from 1850-1919" in a program headlined by comedian Ed Wynn
The Botsfords are shown still living in Manhattan on Broadway in 1920, but his profession is obscured on the records, presumably still as a pianist or composer. He seems to have pretty much retired from composing in the 1920s, except perhaps occasionally for special stage shows or radio appearances, as little else was published. Among these shows, perhaps an extension of his miniature opera idea, were single act pieces such as Courting Days in 1919 and The Volunteers, a singing quartette act that was staged several times in various rendition from 1915 to 1925. Another short act he put together was a "miniature musical satire" called The Owl in 1923. Botsford's Glee Club was heard frequently on the AT&T station WEAF in the early to mid 1920s. In 1930 the Botsfords were still living in Manhattan, although they also had a Long Island residence. He was again listed as a pianist on Broadway. Interestingly, as with many ragtime composers when they grew older, George seems to have selectively trimmed a few years off his age, listing himself as 50 in 1930. Della had already trimmed her age somewhat in 1920. George added some solo appearances on the radio to his resumé, although it is unclear what radio stations or specific shows he may have played for. Some appearances were found in the early 1930s on WEAF and WPCH in New York. He evidently spent most of his last three decades playing rather than writing. One of the last events he was known to be at was an old-timer's song fest at the storied Algonquin Hotel on January 28, 1934. The article noted that many distinguished survivors of Tin Pan Alley were present and in good form, and stated that "George Botsford, lean, tall and gray... sat at the piano when the cigar smoke began to thicken. He played 'Sweet Rosie O'Grady,' 'My Gal Sal' and 'Blue Bell,' and the evening got underway. The disappointment left behind from these years is that his many pieces composed for minstrel shows and vaudeville one acts, most of which were very well reviewed, were not collected for publication or submission to an archive. George Botsford died early in 1949 just short of his 75th birthday. A notice published in the New York Times of February 3 was posted by Fred E. Ahlert, the president of ASCAP at that time. "We announce with profound sorrow the death of our beloved member and colleague, George Botsford, in New York City on Feb. 1, 1949." Within the next year, some of his rags would once again find their way into recordings with a renewed popularity, including his famous Black and White Rag interpreted by the "Hollywood Pianist," Ray Turner, on a Capitol Records single. It remains one of the single most performed rags into the 21st century. | ||||||||||
Often associated with Kansas City (at least in composition), Euday Bowman was actually a native of Texas, and his pieces fall under the category of "Texas Ragtime", a unique style all to itself. He was born in Tarrant County near the Fort Worth area to Kentucky native carpenter George A. Bowman and his Dutch immigrant wife Olivia Marguerite Graham Estee (Lanbin De Eske) Bowman. Euday was the youngest of three siblings, including his sister Mary (5/1877) and brother Julius (9/1880).
While his birth year has traditionally cited as 1887, it is listed specifically as 1886 in the 1900 Census and on his 1917 draft record, therefore 1886 will be assumed here as most correct. There have also been assertions that he was a light-skinned black. However, looking back into his lineage his mother is absolutely white, and his father is listed as such going back to the 1870s, so such speculation is false. Bowman is further listed as white in all Census and draft records in which he appears.For part of his childhood Euday and his siblings lived with their paternal grandfather, Gatewood Bowman, near Mansfield, Texas. Gatewood also reportedly visited Kansas City from time to time with Euday in tow. His parents were divorced in 1905 when he was in his late teens, and Olivia moved in with Mary and Euday. Given that both his mother Olivia and sister Mary were music teachers, Mary working for the Fort Worth school system, it is likely they were both largely responsible for Euday's earliest exposure to piano and composition. Mary is listed as a music teacher at 23 in the 1900 Census. Following a few attempts at writing in his teens and early twenties, Bowman struck out on his own as an itinerant pianist, playing largely in the prostitution districts of large towns and cities where the better bordellos were located. It was during this period that young Euday allegedly lost a leg while trying to hop a train. However, this story is contradicted by his 1917 draft record which showed no infirmities to prevent him from being enlisted, so this dismemberment would have happened later, if at all. In 1910 Bowman was still living in Fort Worth, at least part of the time, with his now-widowed mother Olivia and older sister Mary, both working as music teachers. Euday was listed as a teamster. After spending some time working and playing piano in the districts in both Fort Worth and Kansas City, Bowman composed the 12th Street Rag. He claims it was as early as 1905, but this is hard to confirm. It was melodically simple due to its secondary rag three over four pattern, which made it easy to play by ear and to improvise on, creating a durable hit once it was published many years later. However, when performed directly from the sheet music using the octaves in the original score, it becomes a bit more challenging. In fact, the first self-publication of this rag, submitted for copyright on January 2, 1915, was deemed nearly impossible to play, particularly the introduction and third strain. It was revamped for a second edition of around 500 to 1000 copies, signified by a hand-stamped copyright. After limited success in trying to market the piece by himself, and looking to cover his costs, Bowman sold the rag to the Jenkins Publishing firm in Kansas City for a mere $300. They marketed it well and helped convert the rag into the popular version that is still available into the 21st century. Whether 12th Street Rag was named after 12th Street in Kansas City, or the same in either Dallas or Fort Worth, all of which had a 12th Street in the entertainment and red light district, is a question of where he was when he wrote it or where he was thinking of, and this is not entirely verified. However, the first of three sets of lyrics added at a later date start out "Down in Kansas City...", likely a choice of the rag's Kansas City publisher or the lyricist he chose.Based on his post-sale success with 12th Street Rag Bowman wrote rags for Sixth Street, Tenth Street and Petticoat Lane, and had a minor success with the Eleventh Street Rag. Most of his compositions from this point were blues that were based in his Texas musical heritage, but also contained elements of good ragtime. They were initially published by a house he set up with a partner, Bowman and Ward. Unfortunately, once he sold 12th Street Rag and later some of the other Bowman and Ward scores to Jenkins, such as Kansas City Blues, for a relatively paltry sum, he did not see any more revenue from any of them in spite of the enormous national hit status of his most popular piece. For them it was just business, but it haunted Bowman for many years as he struggled to make a living. On his 1918 draft record he lists himself as a musician, but also as "not employed." Bowman was still living in Fort Worth in 1920 with his mother and sister, working as an equipment operator of some kind. Euday again tried to strike out on his own, marrying miss Geneva Morris on October 19, 1920, in Erath, Texas. However, the union was problematic and Geneva abandoned their home by mid 1921. Their divorce was finalized in 1926. In 1930 he was still living with his sister, their mother having died in 1922, but Euday now was shown as a pianist and jazz teacher, having gained some fame from his most famous work. During the 1920s and 1930s Bowman also submitted a number of other pieces to the Library of Congress, likely wary of repeating his 12th Street Rag experience, but they were not published, remaining in manuscript form. (Some of these works are now available at the Library of Congress site for viewing.) Finally in 1937, even before the original copyright renewal was available follwing the usual 26 year period, Euday was able to get the rights back to his beloved and now quite famous 12th Street Rag. However, he made little return from it during the war years and even soon after, in spite of reprints and promotion of the piece. It had been recorded by many prominent musicians over the past two decades, including Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Fats Waller, arranger and bandleader Fletcher Henderson, Benny Goodman, Lionel Hampton, and many New Orleans traditional jazz musicians. Bowman eventually reassigned the copyright to publisher Shapiro-Bernstein. He also joined ASCAP in 1946 to assure even more protection for and revenue from his popular rag. He moved back in with his sister soon after that, and there are reports that he was engaged collecting and selling junk, although they are difficult to substantiate.In early 1948, big band leader Pee Wee Hunt inadvertently recorded Bowman's most famous opus during a radio show transcription session in Nashville for Capitol Records, when the engineer informed him there was still a little space left on the disc. The arrangement was silly in places with a doo-wacka-doo chorus by the trumpets, and the questionably pitched piano used for a solo passage was at least a quarter step flat. Not intended for airplay, the recording was nonetheless broadcast by stations all over the country, ironically during a musician's strike when studio recordings other than for the radio were being boycotted. The public demand for the track was nearly immediate, and caught Capitol Records by surprise. They soon released it on a 78 RPM single, and as a result the 12th Street Rag once again became a nostalgic hit. Bowman reportedly bought a very nice car with his first royalty check in early 1949, but it was the only such check for that piece he would ever see. He tried to capitalize on the success of Hunt's recording by promoting himself and his other works, including making his own record of the famous piece on a private label, allegedly recorded on the same piano on which he composed it. Possibly newly confident that he could afford a better lifestyle, Euday married again, this time to Ruth Emma Thompson on February 6, 1949. However, he had a change of heart within a month, filing for divorce in mid-March on grounds of cruelty inflicted by his wife. To add to his troubles, Euday's health had deteriorated and the physical and financial strain proved to be too much for him. His good fortune was offset by over $2,000 in medical bills. Still, he attempted a trip to New York City to publicize his authorship and recent recording of the rag. Euday Bowman succumbed there at age 61 or 62 just as his star was rising again. Mary Bowman inherited the rights to 12th Street Rag and Euday's other copyrights, supposedly assuring her comfort and to possibly acknowledge her help in either writing or at least notating some of them so many years before. However, his iconic piece would not die, and would even be embroiled in legal controversy due to its new-found popularity. Shapiro-Bernstein believed that as the copyright owner of Bowman's instrumental they also allegedly owned by proxy the song version by Sumner and all versions that used the famous melody. A 1949 lawsuit was filed by them against publisher Jerry Vogel as he had acquired the rights to Sumner's 1919 version of the song with lyrics in 1947, and started distributing it. Vogel countersued saying that Shapiro-Bernstein owed him money based on the Jenkins' acquisition of the tune since Bowman's copyright renewal did not include the lyrics. The first decision in 1950 found that it was a "composite work" and that Sumner's lyrics did not constitute a right to the instrumental version. In 1954 an appeals court found that since Jenkins' intent was for the music and lyrics to be performed together, they were part of a cohesive single "joint work." This allowed Vogel to collect 50% of the profits from Shapiro-Bernstein for the instrumental version sales with the Sumner lyric. He then went after compensation based on sales of no less than 22 other versions of the work. The final verdict on what was or was not copyrightable in terms of changes to an original piece came in 1957, argued for Shapiro-Bernstein by music lawyer Lee Eastman (father of Linda Eastman-McCartney) and esteemed music critic Deems Taylor. Even though it was settled out of court the entire affair was considered to be precedent-setting case law by that time, and resulted in revisions to United States copyright law. Vogel gave up claim to his 50% of the royalties from 1941 to 1957 on the non-Sumner versions, but did manage to get 33% of all subsequent royalties and joint publication credit for all 12th Street Rag variations. A similar suit he had against ASCAP was also settled out of court on the same terms. The lasting impact of this simple Texas musician's most famous work remains with us today. Even after Bowman died and while the song was tied up in a decade-long contentious court battle, artists as diverse as the Firehouse Five Plus Two and Liberace were keeping his memory alive through that one ubiquitous tune. It is also available on an endless array of CDs, and even DVDs of old Vitaphone shorts and Disney cartoons in which it was liberally featured. All this from a piece which had been born and raised in the brothels of Texas. Thanks to Adam Swanson who has a rare copy of Bowman's 1948 record and gave the info on it, as well as relaying information from Mike Montgomery on the probable 1923 side for Gennett. | ||||||||||
Brun Campbell and his personal ragtime history as narrated to the world have been at the center of everything from reverence to ridicule since after his death. Never having actually made a full living as a performer or composer, he nonetheless provided a somewhat credible link to Scott Joplin and his peers, one of the earliest or only non-Black pupils, or as often stated, disciples, of the famous composer of Maple Leaf Rag. This biography will not overtly attempt to either feed or assuage any controversy, but merely address some variances. It will try, as best as possible, to sort out the facts of Campbell's life, and be as clear as it is feasibly possible on what was relayed by Campbell as opposed to what was known about him. Note that much of what was relayed of his life exists in recordings and interviews made in the early 1940s, four decades after the fact, and that a number variances are found even between those declarations by Campbell, which can be attributed to either memory issues or some fanciful embellishment acquired over the years.
Sanford Brunson Campbell was born in early 1884 in Oberlin, Kansas to Luther E. Campbell of Wisconsin and Lulu (Emilie) A. [Bourquin] Campbell of Indiana. A brother, Harold A. Campbell, was born in Oberlin, Kansas on July 15 of 1891. Luther (sometimes later referred to as Lou or Lew) was only 17 when his first son was born, and he did not yet have a steady trade. Life was not always easy at that time on the northwest Kansas prairie, so diversions were welcome. The family also moved often, stopping for a time in St. Joseph, Missouri, after Harold was born. Possibly looking for adventure and opportunity, Luther was one of many who attempted to secure property when the Cherokee Strip Land Run commenced in September of 1893 in what would become a part of northern Oklahoma. While he failed to secure anything, Mr. Campbell settled the family near the starting point in Arkansas City, Kansas. Between 1893 and 1900, according to various city directories and records, the family was also in Guthrie in Oklahoma Territory, as well as Oklahoma City and El Reno, before returning to Kansas and Arkansas City. During this time Luther tried his hand as a traveling salesman, often bringing goods into the newly settled territory. He eventually abandoned that for a steadier career, and became a barber. Luther played some guitar and appropriately sang in what we would now consider a barbershop quartet. Lulu picked at the banjo as well. So it would seem obvious that during this period that Sanford would develop an interest in the piano. By the mid 1890s he received some musical training, equipping him enough to grasp the fundamentals of performance and structure, and become a competent player and reader. The family is shown in the both the 1895 Kansas Census and the 1900 Federal Census in Arkansas City, the latter with Luther employed in as a barber, while Sanford and Luther were still in school. This is important because the data reported in the 1900 Census is a bit at odds with Campbell's recorded recollections. This is Brun's story as relayed in the 1940s. It was in 1898, when Campbell would have been around 14, that he said he ran off from southern Kansas, finding his way to Oklahoma City. He then played for a while for the Armstrong-Byrd Music Company. It was possibly in that capacity that he met Otis Saunders (possibly Sanders), one of Joplin's colleagues. Saunders reportedly handed him a manuscript of Maple Leaf Rag to read through, which depending on the exact time frame was either nearing publication or had just recently been published. A manuscript would have constituted a hand written copy of Joplin's original, and some minor doubts could be cast on this possibility. Just the same, Campbell played through the copy and quickly became enamored with the soon to be famous rag. After returning home he ventured to Sedalia and became friends with Joplin and Saunders while taking lessons from the former. At the end of his time there, Saunders, or in some accounts, Scott Joplin, was supposed to have handed the teenager an 1897 silver half dollar, telling him that this was the date that the composer wrote his first "original rag." Then he went back home to Kansas, musically changed forever. That Sanford was listed as still in school in Kansas in early 1900 does not totally enforce the credibility of this tale, or even the less likely scenario that he returned home after this journey to Sedalia simply to attend high school. Also, if the year it happened was indeed 1898, there is the matter of a 14-year-old surviving on his own at that time, including provisions for lodging and food, although that was not unheard of. Just the same, here is a more likely scenario. Please note this is an educated opinion gathered from known facts and likely probabilities. That he traveled to Oklahoma in 1898 is likely, albeit for a short time. He and a friend of his, the son of a local doctor, went to Oklahoma City in 1898 (this was possibly the period in which the Campbell family was living there) for a celebration, probably for Oklahoma Day on September 16, 1898. He became separated from his friend and ended up at Armstrong-Byrd where he bided his time playing through music. Whether Saunders came by and heard him or not is still questionable, although he certainly may have received some complements and advice from others while he was there. It is likely that once reunited with his friend that the pair returned home. Instead of going to Sedalia at that time, it is more plausible that Campbell left for Missouri in the summer of 1900 at age 16, after the family was back in Arkansas City, and once school was out. Then the story would have logically progressed from there. In his autobiography Brun states, "I had been taught how to play by Scott Joplin in 1898 when I was 15 years old." As he was not fifteen until at least 1899, and that Joplin was not at all well known until after Maple Leaf Rag was published, and then only gradually, this further amplifies the plausibility that Campbell instead studied with Joplin in 1900. Another possibility suggested by They All Played Ragtime is that he may have spent the summer of 1899 in Sedalia, since it mentions his returning to Kansas after his time with Saunders and Joplin, and then returned the following summer. Otis Saunders/Sanders (whose true identity is currently a mystery since he does not appear in any Census) was indeed involved with helping Joplin get Maple Leaf Rag heard, played and widely promoted. However, it may potentially be considered unusual, based on data from interviews and knowledge of the past, that a mulatto pianist who was at least a decade older, would approach a white youngster in a music store to have him read a manuscript. It is more likely that the interchange involved Saunders giving Campbell a published copy of the rag, hoping to have it played locally and promoted for sale. In a 1945 Record Changer article, Brun contradicts his earlier story, saying that he learned the rag personally from Joplin as it was first written, a tale which seems even less likely given other facts. To further confound things, the Maple Leaf Club for which the rag was named and dedicated would not open until late November of 1898, meaning that Saunders would have been carrying a manuscript that was either unnamed or had a working title. So we can't be sure what Campbell saw or heard. This time line still works with the 1900 Census findings, and with Saunders going to Sedalia in mid 1900 or even early 1901 when Joplin was still there, and following him to St. Louis in 1901 as well. A further reinforcement of this contention is that Campbell became a barber like his father, a trade better learned in his mid-teens rather than at age 12 or 13, just prior to when he allegedly left home. It also indicates that he maintained better family ties than the previous scenario might suggest. The element of Campbell having seen the rag in manuscript form before it was published would indeed make for a more colorful story, but it is hard to confirm, while other known facts appear to diminish (but not eliminate) this possibility. There is evidence to support Campbell being in Sedalia around 1900. The extent of tutelage he received from Joplin of anybody else there is unknown. Sedalia was a fairly tolertant town in terms of race relations, so that the 16 year old might have been seen in a black neighborhood (and perhaps a bit less likely in one of the Negro clubs along the north side of Sedalia's Main Avenue near Ohio Street) would not necessarily have raised too many eyebrows. Campbell later claimed to have been Joplin's only white pupil, although there is little in the way of hard evidence to fully support even this. Given his playing style, what would he have learned from Joplin at that time? Perhaps it was the fundamentals of syncopation or composition, or even notation. Campbell's recordings reflect more of a folk ragtime style that would have been equally indigenous to central Missouri, convincingly suggesting that much of what he learned was influenced by a wide variety of players less skilled than Joplin. On Joplin's playing, he variously said that Joplin was a master at playing his own rags, which needed no embellishment, and that while Joplin was a competent pianist, his playing wasn't going to "set the world on fire." While in St. Louis, and later in Kansas City, Campbell was able to pick up work in saloons and sporting houses. It was there that he became familiar with the playing of Arthur Marshall, Scott Hayden, Tom Turpin, Tony Williams, Melford Alexander, Jim and Ida Hastings, Louis Chauvin and Charley Thompson, claiming to also have taken lessons with at least some of them. This is what he said of their playing in general. “None of the original pianists played ragtime the way it was written. They played their own style. Some played march time, fast time, slow time and some played ragtime blues style. But none of them lost the melody and if you knew the player and heard him a block away you could name him by his ragtime style.” Of the St. Louis crowd he claimed that Thompson was the best of them, eclipsing even the short-lived Chauvin who was known for his pianistic prowess. Campbell eventually fulfilled some of his wanderlust by traveling as an itinerant pianist throughout Missouri, Kansas and Oklahoma, and points south and southwest of the region, allegedly billing himself as "The Ragtime Kid". Variations on that include "The Original Ragtime Kid," "The Dude," the curious "The Indian Kid," "Kid Campbell," and "Brunnie Campbell." Brun played anywhere he could find, including honky-tonks, barrelhouses (which had tables made of beer barrels), white brothels, pool halls, and riverboats. This is most likely the time that he developed his unique playing style, absorbing the influences of other pianists he encountered, and the period in which he wrote the bulk of his compositions that were recorded in the early 1940s. But there is again some question about how long he was on the road, and whether or not he maintained a home base. Among those he claims to have met, and likely did at some point, include Tony Jackson and Ferdinand "Jelly Roll" Morton. Given that Morton was six years his junior, it was not so plausible that they met before even 1904 when Morton was fourteen and first ventured up to St. Louis. However, in the 1940s Campbell stated: “I would like to give the late 'Jelly Roll' Morton, of New Orleans, credit for his early contribution to ragtime, which was King Porter Stomp, of 1906. He named it after Porter King, a great Negro pianist of the Gulf Coast. Another great Negro pianist of New Orleans was Tony Jackson, and he could out-play the great 'Jelly Roll' Morton. The music these great Negro composers developed will live forever, and I am proud of the fact I was associated with them at the beginning.” It seems more probable that Campbell would have developed a relationship with Morton when they were both in Los Angeles in the early 1920s, but either scenario is possible. During his time on the road he claims to have played for many luminaries from politicians to outlaws, of which some of the claims have been considered a stretch by other historians. Among those he claimed to have performed for include President Teddy Roosevelt, Buffalo Bill (William C. Cody), Governor Thompson B. Ferguson of what was then still Indian Territory before it was Oklahoma, minstrel leader Lew Dockstader, O.K. Corral veteran and lawman Bat Masterson, and famed outlaws Frank James (Jesse's brother), Cole Younger, Emmett Dalton and Henry Starr. His stated that his greatest thrill was playing Maple Leaf Rag at the Kerfoot Hotel in El Reno, Oklahoma for Bill Cody's friend and rival, Pawnee Bill (Gordon Lillie). He and his wife, May Manning, were the proprietors of the Pawnee Bill Historical Wild West Show, which was most often held at their ranch at Pawnee, Oklahoma. In They All Played Ragtime, Campbell said that “Twenty years later I met him in Tulsa and he asked me to play it again.” The 1905 Kansas Census shows Campbell (erroneously listed as Branson) once again living with his brother and parents in Arkansas City. It could be that he was discouraged during his travels either by a limited skill set or the popularity of the talented black performers that populated the region. There is less of a possibility that he just happened to be visiting the day that Census was taken, given that he is shown to be working as a barber, not a musician. Some time around 1907 to 1908 Campbell claims he retired from the playing life (it was likely earlier), and was married to G. Ethel Campbell (little is known about her). He then settled in to his father's line of work, albeit now in Tulsa, Oklahoma where Luther and Lulu had also moved. Sanford (he was invariably listed in each Federal Census as Sanford B.) and Ethel are shown there in the 1910 Census living on Second Street, with Campbell working as a barber in his own shop. There is no indication that he was working as a musician by this time, although it remains a possibility. Brun, as he was more often referred to by this time, continued to live in Tulsa for most of the decade. However, his first marriage broke up within a couple years. On May 14, 1913 he got applied for a marriage license in Tulsa, this time with Lena Louise Burrough of Fort Smith, Arkansas. She was 18-years-old to his 29 (he claimed to be 27). It is assumed they were soon married as on his 1918 draft card he lists a "Mrs. Sanford B. Campbell," although living at a different address than his. He was at 111 E. Fourth and Lena was living at 110 E. Independence. Brun was working as a barber for Hodges and Clements. Under the claims for potential disqualification due to physical issues, he claimed he was "Shot through joint of big toe in right foot." The story behind this is unclear, but given his earlier life as an itinerant pianist, it is very plausible. They were likely divorced soon after this as Campbell is next seen in Venice, California in 1920. He was now living with his parents and brother again. Luther was the sales manager for a coffee company, Harold worked as what appears to be a traveling salesman in the grocery business, and Brun had opened his own barber shop in Venice. The community had been founded just west of Los Angeles on the shore a couple of decades prior, with the gimmick of having recreated the essence of Venice, Italy, complete with canals and gondolas. Only a couple of the canals exist today, but Venice Beach is still a popular destination for locals. Brun remained there for the rest of his life. Campbell was married a third time, either in the mid to late 1920s or as early as 1918, to Marjorie (May) Campbell. According to the 1930 Census they had three daughters, Dorothy (c.1919), Louise (c.1923) and Patricia (c.1925). Given that all three girls were born in Oklahoma where their mother was from, he possibly acquired them in the marriage.
Brun's shop was at 711 Venice Boulevard nest to the Venice City Hall. In interviews in the 1940s when he was being "rediscovered," he claimed to have not touched a piano through the 1920s and 1930s. However, Norm Pierce, a barber supply salesman in during the depression who later owned a San Francisco record shop, said he visited Brun's shop frequently in the 1930s, and that there was a piano in the back room of the shop that Campbell played often. This kept his playing chops in good shape, which came in handy in the early 1940s. There was a revival of 1920s jazz in the works, led at this time by Lu Watters and Wally Rose in San Francisco. In 1942, just as World War Two was underway, they recorded several tracks as the Yerba Buena Jazz Band, reviving the works of Joseph "King" Oliver and others, throwing in a little ragtime for good measure. While the progression of this revival and the YBJB was interrupted by the war, jazz enthusiasts and writers started seeking out the originals from this era. Paul E. Affeldt started visiting Brun around this time, and said that when he'd visit the shop and ask the barber to tell him something about the ragtime years, the "Closed" sign would go up and the stories would come forth in great numbers. Campbell also had a number of home-recorded acetate records dating possibly back to the 1910s. Trombonist Turk Murphy, as quoted by pianist and historian Terry Waldo in This is Ragtime, said, "You could always tell the guys who were going to see him, because of their haircuts. He wasn't really that good of a barber, but he played good ragtime." Hoping to do some good on this new interest in old music, Brun set out to do a favor for an old friend. He had heard that Lottie Joplin, Scott's widow, was going through hard times. So Brun recorded Maple Leaf Rag in his shop on an old $50 upright he says he refurbished, simply so the royalties would go to help her out of her situation. He recorded for Ray Avery's Echoes record company, and also did some sides for Watters' own West Coast label (eventually acquired by Lester Koenig's Good Time Jazz and then Fantasy Records). Somewhere during this time period and prior to 1947, Campbell composed and recorded Chestnut Street in the 90's, which remains his best known and most often played rag. Many of the other pieces he ended up recording around 1947 had a similar and earthy style, but there were also quotes or paraphrases of well known rags of the past. In some cases, he recorded snippets of a minute or less that are considered potential fragments of a larger piece, or perhaps just a riff that inspired him. Each of the privately recorded discs that Brunson did were initially released on one-sided records because, as Campbell later told writer Floyd Levin, "If they want to hear two tunes, let them buy two records." Based on his growing fame among jazz fans and his links to Scott Joplin, it was inevitable that Campbell would be interviewed in 1949 by Rudi Blesh and Harriet Janis for their upcoming book They All Played Ragtime. Brun also penned his own autobiography which now resides at Fisk University, a largely black institution in Nashville, Tennessee. A release of his previous recordings as well as the publication of They All Played Ragtime in 1950 brought new found fame to many previously unsung composers and performers, ranging from Joseph F. Lamb and Charley Thompson to Brun Campbell. Another researcher and fan who exchanged mail with Campbell was then high school student, now historian Mike Montgomery. He was among the first of the ragtime revivalists to have learned and then spread Campbell's full name to other ragtime writers. However, Campbell was not able to revel in his growing fame for long. Scott Joplin's only white student passed on in late 1952, leaving behind a legacy of unique views of the ragtime era, as well as a number of still unanswered questions. Affeldt eventually acquired many of the acetates cut by Campbell, and released a pair of records on his Euphonic label, named after Affeldt's favorite Joplin Rag. It became clear to those who listened to these tracks that while other players, at least those who continued working in that capacity into the 1920s and 1930s, changed their style to fit the times, Campbell retained what he had learned in those early days of ragtime. In that regard, his 1940s performances are perhaps among the most authentic of those done during that time, giving us a good view into what some saloon piano players may have sounded like during those glory days in St. Louis. For all of those questions left behind by Campbell, the answers that we know of, including his performances, are still a treasured look into a time long past. In addition to the author's own research on Campbell, based largely on public records, his recorded comments and snippets of his autobiography, acknowledgement should be extended to other good sources of information on the composer. These included Richard Egan who transcribed 22 of Campbell's pieces and wrote a short biography to accompany them in Brun Campbell: The Music of the Ragtime Kid, which can still be found with a little effort. Further reviewed research was compiled by Peter Hanley, of which more can be read at Mike Meddings' extraordinary Doctor Jazz site. | |||||||
Hughie Cannon represents a tragic story of tortured talent who, in the end, was not able to overcome his demons and let his potential be fully realized. Just the same, he did leave us with a few gems, and only a few clues on who he actually was or where he came from. Responsible for one of the most sung ragtime songs of the 20th Century, he was not only a friend of the prototype Bill Bailey, but shared some of his more unfortunate traits.
Hugo Cannon was born to actors John Cannon and May (Brown) Cannon in April 1878.
The boy likely spent a number of years living with his grandmother during the seasons that his mother and stepfather were touring the country in various troupes. His mother was rather petite and of direct Irish ancestry, so played the cute Irish lass on stage for as long as she could. In a notice from St. Paul, Minnesota, on November 12, 1892, it touted a "new face... Miss May Smith, a celebrated skipping rope song and dance lady, is another new arrival." That appears to have been her act for the next few years. William's role in the relationship is unclear, but he was likely a manager or stage hand, as his name does not appear in notices. Much of her work appears to have included long stints in St. Paul, particularly through the first few months of 1884 as well as 1885. It is possible that Hugo was able to visit her there at some point each year. However, notices including her appear in other Midwest cities as well during the 1880s. In 1887 May toured as the star of the four act comedy Fogg's Ferry, and the following year in The Waifs of New York. In 1891 a play that would make her reputation was launched with a theater company managed by Mr. Fred Robbins. Little Trixie, starring May in the title role, would tour for several years. During the second season, when Hugo was 14, he was included in the company as per the standard notice of theatrical companies in the New York Dramatic Mirror on September 10, 1892: LITTLE TRIXIE: Fred. Robbins, manager; M.F. Luce, business manager; Sanford H. Ricaby, advance; W. Morris Ellis, musical director. Nat Franklin. Harry Mitchell, Harry Beck, W.E. Owens, Master Hugo Cannon, May Smith, Ruth
Craven, Gertie Williams, and Teddy Wesley.
Hugo was a property person and stage hand, but appeared on stage briefly in a few different roles over the years. Little Trixie ran for seven years during the fall to winter season. By 1892, May had divorced William Smith, and as of the 1894 season she was married to the manager, Fred G. Robbins, going by May Smith Robbins so she could benefit from her previous fame. A typical review of the production was found in the Washington Evening Times of December 22, 1896.
May Smith Robbins, a song and dance edition of Lotta, is the star at the Bijou Family Theater this week. Her play of "Little Trixie" is an up-to-date edition of "the Little Detective," and with the assistance of a clever company, of which her husband, Fred Robbins, is the manager and leading comedian, she makes the piece a success... Eugene Millard plays a star villain part as the scoundrelly old lawyer, while Nat Franklin as the darkey, and Hugo Cannon, the boy drum-major, do good work and specialties.
After the last season of the Little Trixie ended in early 1898, Hugo decided to stay in show business, and managed to land a spot with Barlow's Minstrels as a song and dance man, also playing the piano for some acts. A self promotion for them was found in the New York Clipper of July 30, 1898: NOTES FROM BARLOW'S MINSTRELS — We are now in the eighth week of our Summer season, and have met with success in each one of the parks we have played, breaking the records in all places. Our show has been pronounced by all the public press and managers as being the best and finest equipped minstrel show in the business... The laughing song of Lew Baldwin is hitting them hard, and the buck dancing of Hugo Cannon makes the audience yell...
Another glowing notice appeared in the Paducah [Kentucky] Daily Sun on September 29, 1898: "The solos by Messrs. Hood, James, Frank Holland, Lew Baldwin and Hugo Cannon, were up to the standard, while the comedy was new and clean. Briggs, as a trick rider, performed many marvelous feats, while Cannon and Russell, in their dance specialty, evoked great applause." Hugo remained with Barlows for the 1898 to 1899 season, then signed with Vogel's Minstrels for the 1899 to 1900 season. What was not known to the general public at this time, but was likely apparent to his colleagues, was Cannon's growing dependence on alcohol and other substances. In a later interview he claimed to have started in drinking at age ten, and in yet another he said it was sixteen. Even if either of these was an exaggeration, by his early twenties he was well on the way to his eventual demise, yet also just at the beginning of a career as a capable and popular songwriter. It is a little known assertion that Cannon was also an artist, and at one point had considered a career in cartooning, but ragtime had other plans for him.
Bring me your rubber-tired hearses, bring me your rubber-tired hack;As of the June 1900 Census, May S. Robbins was still on the road, temporarily lodging with the Paulus family in Detroit, listed as an actress. Her son, Hugo, was also back in the Detroit area but living with his grandmother Rose (she vainly cited him as her nephew to the enumerator), and listed as an actor. But he was more than that by now. Influenced by his peers in the Minstrel companies, he had composed his first publishable piece, I Don't Want No Jonah Hanging 'Round. Emboldened by its minor success on stage and on the shelves, he penned the "coon song" Just Because She Made Dem Goo Goo Eyes with fellow actor John Queen, and after a few tries managed to sell it for a reported $25 (it was likely a bit more) to Howley, Haviland & Company. That company was managed in part at that time by composer Paul Dresser, and he soon became one of Hugo's champions. The cover showed Cannon and Queen as themselves on the minstrel stage, along with an image of Queen in blackface as he performed the piece "From Blitzen to Ninn."Dresser may have also influenced or been partially responsible for the name change. Hugo was not a great show business name. To complicate things, there was a controversial leader of the Mormon Church, one that many considered to be somewhat of a public bully with dangerous ideas, named Hugh Cannon. Although he had made the news in Utah for various infractions and statements as early as the 1880s, Mr. Cannon was a regular item in the national news by 1900, much of it controversial, and he was hooked in with a questionable senator as well. Perhaps hoping to identify himself separately, Hugo became Hughey, then in short order Hughie, the name that stuck for his few remaining years. Hughie continued to perform on the vaudeville stage with Queen for at least one season. He also continued to write music, getting two of his own published over the next year. You Needn't Come Home has been regarded by some historians as one of the first songs that could be considered part of the "commercial blues" genre, with its 12 bar construction for both verse and chorus. Cannon and Queen also turned out a couple of minor hits in 1901. I Hates to Get up Early in the Morn just slightly pre-dated, and may have even influenced Harry Von Tilzer's huge 1902 hit, Please Go 'Way and Let Me Sleep. Ultimately, it was another friend of Hughie that would wind up making him, well, in the end simply famous, but hardly rich. After the 1901 season Hugh returned to Michigan, this time to Jackson, about 80 miles due west of downtown Detroit. There he quickly gained a reputation as a likable and stellar ragtime pianist. Jackson was considered to be a rather rough railroad town, and was sometimes referred to as “Little Chicago.” The Michigan Central Railroad kept one of their major satellite repair shops there, and an average of 3,000 railroad employees either lived or lodged around Jackson at any one time. The 1900 City Directory lists 75 saloons around the downtown area, so there were plenty of opportunities for Hughie to play, and to drink his wages.
There are many stories about how Cannon's famous song came about, and who it was about. One states that it was about half of the black vaudeville team of Bailey and Cowan. Cannon supposedly hosted Bailey at a local hotel that night, claiming that Mrs. Bailey might see the error of her ways the next day, which then did not transpire as planned. Given that the song was about a black couple, this would seem plausible. However, a more accurate accounting has emerged in recent years that can be told with some caution taken as to its authenticity. Upon his settling in Jackson, Hughie became friends with a local musician and Jackson native, Willard Godfrey Bailey. His parents ran a photographic outfit in Jackson, and Willard, a.k.a. Bill, taught music by day and played trombone and some piano in the saloons by night. He married Sarah (Siegrist) Bailey around mid-1901. Their happy union seemed quite solid - for about a month. Bill enjoyed staying out often, and, as Sarah Siegrist Bailey Williams noted in 1973 at age 100, he "was my sweetheart, but he was everybody else's too. He lied to me all the time, but I was too young to understand much then. I was [just] a country girl." It was probably after Bill and Hughie had discussed enough incidents concerning his understandably indignant wife that Hughie used their situation as a template for his iconic Bill Bailey, Won't You Please Come Home. It was reportedly penned at one of Cannon's favorite New York City hangouts, one that many musicians frequented, Kid McCoy's Saloon at the corner of 40th street and Broadway. Cannon later maintained that the song was meant to be a joke, one that Sarah Bailey never quite grasped. She later acknowledged that the music was fine, but the words were what "lowered him."There are two pieces of history involved with this famous song that are harder to substantiate, and some that are merely bunk. It was asserted in the 1920s that Howley, Haviland and Dresser locked Hughie in a room until he completed a new hit song with them, a story that was quickly denounced as false. Then there is a somewhat more credible claim that Dresser helped write the melody for the chorus, but took no credit. It is possible, but was never confirmed during his lifetime or after. The biggest stuff of legend is what the song yielded its composer. Figures from $25 to $350 have been cited, but in all cases it was an outright sale and forfeiture of any further revenue from publication. Cannon said in one interview that he pretty much gave it away. Considering how quickly Bill Bailey, Won't You Please Come Home took off and how rich it made the publishers, in perspective it pretty much was given away. Where this story, while quite plausible, becomes suspect is when one takes into account that Howley, Haviland and Dresser had released a similar song a few months prior titled Ain't Dat a Shame composed by Hughie's stage partner John Queen with music by Walter Wilson. It tells the story of how Bill Bailey got locked out on that stormy night in the first place. Whether this was suggested or inspired by Cannon is unclear, as is the possibility that Cannon simply continued their story. As Queen and Cannon had been partners for a couple of years, it is probable that Mr. Bailey of Jackson came up in conversation. What is striking, however, is that the verse for both Ain't Dat a Shame and Bill Bailey, Won't You Please Come Home are similarly constructed with 12-bar strains, the same as his 1901 piece You Needn't Come Home, so the influence may have been aggregate in this instance.Although Queen introduced the song on the vaudeville stage, and singer Arthur Collins cut it for the Edison company while the ink was still fresh, the character of Bill Bailey quickly became associated with Hughie as the originator, and from the time of his descent around 1908 to the current day he has often been mistakenly cited as the author of the first Bill Bailey piece Ain't Dat a Shame. Both were written as shameless "coon songs," establishing the main character in the songs as African American and a railroad worker for the Baltimore & Ohio line. There would be more Bill Bailey songs in short order, including I Wonder Why Bill Bailey Don't Come Home (1902 - Frank Fogerty, Matt C. Woodward and William Jerome), Since Bill Bailey Came Back Home (1902 - Billy Johnson and Seymour J. Furth), both published by Howley, Haviland and Dresser, followed by Bill Bailey's Left His Happy Home Again (1903 - Rozier Daughtry), Bill Bailey's Application (1910 - Edna Hooker Day), and When Old Bill Bailey Plays the Ukalele (1915 - Charles McCarron and Nat Vincent). Cannon continued his haphazard existence through 1903 and 1904, usually working as an itinerant pianist, and bouncing into Manhattan now and then to deposit another song with his publisher friends. He continued to receive support - sometime through references or donations - from Dresser, who benefitted to some degree in the firm that he had recently joined by the continuing success of Cannon's songs and anything Bill Bailey. Hughie struck gold again in 1904, and created a song that is still considered to have set a historic precedent in some ways, but is also tinged with controversy in others. Perhaps in the hope of ending the Bailey knock-offs, Cannon did just that, knocked off Bill Bailey. His 1904 work He Done Me Wrong (The Death of Bill Bailey) was a mournful lament, even for a major key, and was another of the early ragtime era publications that had a true 12 bar blues progression for the verse. Bill is working on the railroad and gets between two cars without the proper caution, then "cars bumped, Bill was no more." That simple. However, the melody for the verse was closely adapted from one that had been going around for (depending on which historian one follows) anywhere from five to fifty years. It was most likely ten years or less, given the authentic blues pattern. That tune making the rounds was known as Frankie and Albert, a song based on the real life murder of 17-year-old Al Britt in St. Louis by his 22-year-old prostitute girlfriend Frankie Baker. That, of course, is the basis for the song Frankie and Johnny, which would first be published in 1912. It is also questionable who stole from whom, since one of the verses in He Done Me Wrong was either already traditional, or became traditional as a result of its publication.There's twelve men goin' to the graveyard, but eleven are comin' back. Ooooh he was your man, but he done you wrong Cannon's melody is a bit different in places from the one that would be published by the Leighton Brothers and Ren Shields in 1912, but both are recognizable as essentially the same, as were some of the lyrics. It appears that Cannon beat other composers to the punch in terms of getting this story published, and also infused some of his originality into it. Some accounts believe that Dresser once again had a hand in working it out. Yet there was also a challenge to this as even before they claimed Frankie and Johnny as their own, The Leighton Brothers released the same tune as Bill You Done Me Wrong with only slightly revised lyrics under their name in 1908, and didn't even bother to change Bill Bailey's name in those lyrics. No matter its origin, He Done Me Wrong remains as strong an entry as Bill Bailey, Won't You Please Come Home, even though it is infrequently performed today, likely due to its somber tone. Somber also describes the financial return that Cannon got from sales of the piece, although it appears that Dresser once again provided some assistance.
At the same time that Bill Bailey met his demise, Hughie Cannon was getting closer to his, as relayed in this article in the [New York] Sun of January 31, 1904: SONG WRITER IN BELLEVUE.
"Bill Bailey's" Author Says He's Been Drinking Since He Was 10. Hugh Cannon, who wrote "Won't You Come Home, Bill Bailey?" and other popular airs, was taken to Bellevue Hospital yesterday afternoon in a cab from the Winsonia [Hotel]. He was accompanied by Paul Dresser, the composer, and another friend who told Dr. Coleman that Cannon has been drinking heavily of late and was on the verge of delirium. "How long have you been drinking?" asked Dr. Coleman of Cannon? I have been trying faithfully to decrease the visible supply of spirituous liquors for sixteen years," replied Cannon. He is 26 years old now. A subsequent jail sentence some time during the next year helped to cure him of a drug addiction, and Hughie evidently did straighten out for a while in 1904 and 1905. One great boost to him was the interpolation of a song that was requested by stage singer May Irwin into her 1904 hit show Mrs. Black is Back. I Love the Two Steps (With My Man) reportedly yielded him a payment of $350, the largest he ever received for a single work.
He also composed a piece with Irwin that may have been intended for but was not used in the full run of the show, Albany, or Dat's de Only Town Looks Good to Me. Several other songs were completed during his 1904 stay in New York, including a couple that were released in early 1905. These would be last known pieces of the Cannon canon. Then Hughie returned to Jackson a little better off, but not for long.Once back in Michigan Hughie cleaned up at least temporarily, and played in some of the saloons there, more or less counting on his fame as a composer to obtain the work. He soon met Emma Dorson and the pair were married in Jackson, Michigan on September 30, 1906. He claimed to have been born in 1873 at the time, contrary to his actual age of 28. Their happy union was not so happy after even a few months, and she filed for legal separation on June 10, 1908, putting Cannon back on the street much like Mr. Bill Bailey had been dispatched. Emma clearly noted drunkenness as the sole reason for the separation and subsequent divorce, but she had some other things to say to the court as well. According to Emma, "For a period commencing about a month after our marriage and continuing to the time of our separation, defendant was drunk nearly every night; he seldom if ever remained at home to spend the evening but would consort with people of evil repute and would generally come home about 2 or 3 o’clock in the morning in a drunken condition." She also asserted that he "doesn't know a note of music" but simply dictated his songs. Even before the separation, Cannon was a regular visitor to the Jackson County Jail on account of public drunkenness and other misdemeanors. Following his separation he returned to Detroit to try and make a living. A notice in the Music Trade Review of August 1, 1908, under "The Review Hears", said that "poor little Hugh Cannon, the writer of 'Bill Bailey,' 'Ain't Dat a Shame' [incorrect] and 'Just Because She Made Them Goo Goo Eyes,' is in Detroit sorely in need of assistance." Three weeks later a syndicated notice made the rounds, saying that "Hughie Cannon, the author of 'Goo-Goo Eyes' and many other coon songs, is playing the piano in Detroit saloons to keep body and soul together." Hughie all but disappeared over the next year, drinking himself out of favor with the local drinking establishments that would no longer employ him, and becoming a regular in Detroit jails. This is also the period in which the Leighton Brothers started releasing what was essentially retooled versions of a couple of his compositions, possibly figuring that Hughie was no longer a legal threat to anybody. Cannon emerged once again in late January 1910, when he entered one of the state houses for the destitute, as more of a pathetic figure than anything, but also as a lesson of the ravages of living the "sporting life," in some surprisingly honest interviews with various journalists. One of the earliest appeared in the El Paso [Texas] Herald of January 26, 1910 in a clever format using the titles of his songs, but also as a lament: "Just because she made them goo goo eyes," he soused in the wealthy water. He bathed in it.
"Ain't that a shame," but that couldn't be helped. He hit the coke for fair. But he quit it. "Won't you come home, Bill Bailey," she said. But he was down in Chinatown with the rats, puffin' the pipe. He puffed with the best of pill cooks. And then he broke his yen. "Ain't that a shame?" again he said. He broke away all right. But - you know old puffin' partner - he fell to the liquid ban-she. Soon he was on the gun. But he checked the morphine in the street, and then - "Just because she made those goo goo eyes," he fell to the Tiffany water again. And then he fell to the suds, and then - "Gimme some o' th' nickle tea" - you know. And so he broke his yen, soaked his gun, sprinkled the coke in his shoes. But he couldn't break the booze yen. He hit the mirror back joint every night, and packed a jug home every morning. And now he has gone "over the road," not to the joint with more bars than glasses, but to the down and outers' bunk house. His name is Hugh Cannon, and he bought his booze sellin' coon songs. He's in a poorhouse up in Michigan, "Just because she made them goo goo eyes." Bill Bailey's come back home, but not poor old Hughey Cannon. "Ain't that a shame?" The more widely circulated story from early February was accompanied by the picture and cartoon reproduced here, and was written with a sadly predictive opening: The beginning of the end has come for Hughey Cannon, author of [list of his pieces], song hits that should have made him wealthy - and now he is in the local poorhouse at Eloise [Michigan]. He affixed a scrawly signature "Hugh Cannon" that has appeared in great, gawdy letters on sheets of music all over the world, to an application for admittance to the retreat a few days ago.
Drink, cigarets, opium, cigarets, morphine, cigarets, cocaine, cigarets, more drink, and more cigarets - and the night life of the tenderloin cafes, where Hughey has pounded out his life on the keys of tuneless pianos - that is the story. The line is not very closly drawn in Detroit's lower tenderloin cafes, but Hughey had passed it. They wouldn't have him tickle the ivories anywhere any more. He had been on the toboggan here some time before he splashed into oblivion at the poorhouse. Cannon should have made big money from his lyrics of the tenderloins that he pounded out, expressing the wild throbbing of his restless brain in the smoke-laden and beer-smelling atmosphere of the resorts - but he didn't. "'Goo-Goo Eyes,'" he said, "I sold for $25. 'Bill Bailey' I gave away. I pulled down $350 for one I wrote May Irwin - I fergit its name - but that the most. I ought to have stuck to my cartoonist work instead of going wild over ragtime." Finally in March he revealed even more of his history, as noted in the Music Trade Review on March 12, and other papers during that month: FORMER SONG WRITER NOW A WRECK
Some Comments on Career of "Hughey" Cannon, Who Composed Successful Songs, and Whom the Night Life of Broadway Led to Ruin.The downfall of Hugh Cannon, once a well-known figure in the night life of Broadway and a composer of successful songs, is no longer news to his former colleagues. He sought the shelter of an almshouse in Detroit some weeks ago. His former friends are inclined to blame him for his actions of the past, but although by his own admission he took to selling his compositions to several publishers simultaneously, thereby creating much confusion and the loss of money paid in good faith, his circumstances at least call for sympathy. "Hughey" will never again be in a position to write a "hit" for a publisher, nor to cause trouble for anyone. "I started when I was sixteen," said Cannon, referring to the habit of drink which proved his ruin. "I'm thirty-six now [he was actually approaching 32], and except for seven months on the water wagon I've been intoxicated most of the time. It was twenty years—twenty black, sick, nasty years—with only a little brightness now and then when I made good with some song. I quit the cocaine easily. Fifteen days in jail cured me of that. I 'hit the pipe' In New York for a year and stopped that, too. I bucked against the morphine hard and quit that, but the red booze—that's what got me." "Poor Hughey," said one of his more charitable friends. "He couldn't 'stand the gaff.' That's why he's in a poorhouse now, instead of living in one of these good hotels. He was too free with his money when he had it, and thought he could always write a song that would be a 'hit.'" And Broadway has had no trouble in forgetting about "Hughey" and "Bill Bailey," too... By June, Hughie was nowhere to be seen, and cannot be reliably located in the 1910 Census. His mother, who had either washed her hands of him or all but forgotten her son by now, was no longer on the road and found living in Connellsville, Pennsylvania, where Fred was managing a local theater. A younger son, George S. Robbins (possibly by William Smith) and his bride were living with the couple, working as an actor and actress, probably for Fred. It is curious that in 1900 May listed that she had three children and all were living. As of 1910, however, she listed three out of six children surviving. Whether Hughie was one of those regarded as deceased by her at that time is unknown. She would soon know for certain.
Hughie went off the radar again from 1910 through early 1912, picking up playing here and there, and becoming increasingly ill from the ravages drink had wrought upon his beleaguered liver. He was in Toledo Ohio in June 1912 when he managed to make the news twice on the same day. Hughie had collapsed earlier in the month and was sent to the Lucas County [Ohio] Infirmary. He died there on June 17 as a result of cirrhosis of the liver. However, and Hollywood could not have written it with much more cruelty, the final crushing blow of his difficult life actually came, thankfully, within a few hours after the end of his life. That very same day, Emma Cannon was finally able to secure a divorce decree in Michigan, not knowing that, as one headline writer cleverly stated, a "Higher Court had interfered with the Cannon divorce case."
May Robbins had her son's body sent to her in Connellsville, where it remains interred. He remained there somewhat in obscurity for nearly a century. There was a feature story in the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review in 2006 concerning efforts by historians to have the state put a historic marker at his grave in Connellsville. It was ultimately turned down since, as the state regarded the situation, Cannon's story was not particularly unique in spite of his hit song, and actually more typical of the time. Some efforts have continued into 2011, but it appears little will be done in regards to honoring Cannon in his final resting place. Hughie's songs, or to be more specific, that particular song, will evidently never die. It is been in print one way or another since its first publication, including in song books, fake books, nostalgia books, band and orchestra arrangements, and even electronic download form. It has been recorded well over 1000 times by artists ranging from Louis Armstrong to Bobby Darin, and hardly a jazz or ragtime festival goes by without at least one or more renditions of Bill Bailey, Won't You Please Come Home. It is one of the most recognizable tunes of the ragtime era, even by the youth of the 21st century, and remains one of the top sellers from that decade. And what of his most famous character? Willard Bailey managed a music store in Jackson through 1908 or so. At that point abandoned Jackson for California and Sarah went with him, in spite of their now famous and questionable marriage. He played in orchestras and taught music for several more years, but also reportedly continued his philandering. Bill Bailey was finally kicked out for good in the mid-1910s when Sarah divorced him. She then returned to Jackson and eventually married a local farmer. In the 1920 Census Willard Bailey is shown as a salesman for a music store in Los Angeles, California, living with his daughter Frances and an aunt, and in 1930 at age 60 he was working in advertising. The two Baileys still appear to have remained on friendly terms through his California death in April 1954. Sarah said she finally got used to the joking about her status as Mrs. Bailey, which apparently continued until she died in a nursing home at 104 in 1978. Both of them and their creator live on more than a century later thanks to that famous ragtime song. Most of the information here was compiled from public records, newspapers and periodicals. Some of the information on Cannon's birth and divorce were obtained from Michigan state vital records. However, without the diligent work of the late Mike Montgomery, Detroit's number one ragtime and early jazz historian and collector, some of the information compiled here might have been difficult to confirm, as he had a couple of articles and inteviews which substantiated other materials located. We will miss your fine dedicated work Mike.
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Axel W. Christensen was an important figure in ragtime, not so much as a composer but as a promoter, trying to get the concepts of the music into the hands of the average pianist while making a nice profit at the same time. He was born to Danish immigrants Charles C. and Mary Christensen in Chicago, Illinois, a decade after the great fire that had leveled the city. Axel was the oldest of four boys and one girl. He had a typical musical upbringing that included piano lessons and harmony and theory. Contemporary reports described him as only average in his ability. There was reportedly an incident in his mid teens in which after playing marches and some forms of classical music at a party he was shown up by a much better pianist playing early cakewalks or ragtime, something that the females reacted to in a very positive way. This evidently affected him deeply, and it was then that he became passionately interested in popular piano styles, including ragtime. By 1900 he was still only peripherally involved with music, as the Census shows him working in mechanical engineering of some kind, the same field his father was in.
The young entrepreneur finally managed to compose and publish a rag in 1902, The Ragtime Wedding March (Apologies to Mendelssohn). The main point of this piece was to prove that virtually anything could be syncopated into a ragtime style, a catalyst for what was to come in his career. Determined to make good with his musical education and passion, Christensen opened his first ragtime instruction school in Chicago's Fine Arts building in 1903 with the promise of "Ragtime Taught in Ten Lessons." He had developed a curriculum that consisted of exercises in various syncopated patterns on easy melodies. His goal, although not overtly stated, was to teach the person not so much how to play a piano rag, but how to rag any music that they encountered or already knew. This was akin to turning around his own bad teenage experience into something positive - taking the 98 pound weakling pianist and making them popular with syncopated muscles. With good advertising and positive results, he was able to grow the business fairly steadily. Axel soon married Reine Annette Swanson in September of 1903, and she would eventually become materially involved in the burgeoning business. They soon established Christensen's headquarters in the Kimball Building. Business reached a point of saturation in the Chicago area by 1908 with four school branches in various parts of the city. However, Christensen had been selling his books by mail order and in selected music stores in an effort to get to people outside of his Midwest radius. The first of these was published in 1906, Christensen's Instruction Book Number 1 for Rag-Time Piano Playing, the very title forecasting a series of such books. The basic course was updated at least five times during the ragtime era. Many of the exercises could be equated to a syncopated version of the famous Hanon exercises, repeating a syncopated pattern up and down the scale. Other focused courses also soon appeared in print, including a course on playing for Vaudeville, a fairly lucrative profession at that time. Going beyond how to play, these books also outlined how to build up a well-paced set of anywhere from 20 minutes to an entire evening concert, important lessons for an entertainer to know in order to engage an audience.Axel was finally confident enough in the strength of his teaching methodology, which was frequently updated to include new styles as they came along, and opened a branch of his school in San Francisco in late 1908. The results encouraged him to expand to Cincinnati by 1910, and even St. Louis, a hotbed of ragtime activity for a decade by that time. He also expanded his personal repertoire of compositions with a number of fine rags and songs over the next few years. In July, 1910 the Christensens were shown living in a fairly nice area of Chicago with their recently-arrived only son, Carle Alexander, born July 27, 1909. They also had a live-in servant, so the publishing and teaching enterprise was paying off fairly well by then. He listed himself as a proprietor of music schools. By 1910 Christensen was truly the Czar of Ragtime, a title which would stay with him for many years and that he used often in Vaudeville. In 1915, utilizing his passion for rearranging older tunes with syncopation, Axel released a series of these arrangements that were included in some of his courses and sold separately as well. His educational reach would eventually extend to 25 different cities by 1918, near the end of the ragtime era. Axel's 1918 draft record shows him still in Chicago as the owner and manager of the Christensen School of Popular Music. In May 1918 in Melody Magazine, Christensen wrote a provocative article titled Can Ragtime Be Suppressed which extolled the virtues of the genre, and made clear that those who would try to prevent its continuation would ultimately fail in their endeavors due to the public thirst for more ragtime. While its origin was only a mere two decades in the past, he postulated on the mystery of that very genesis. "Many writers have endeavoured to trace ragtime down to its origin, but there are almost as many opinions as to where ragtime had its source as there are writers on the subject. Ever since there has been such a thing as ragtime, there have been people who would tell you that ragtime was on the decline, and that it would soon be a thing of the past. Twelve or thirteen years ago a well-known music publisher told me in all seriousness to devote my efforts to something besides ragtime, because the knell of ragtime had been sounded; it had run itself to death and the publishers would soon stop printing it altogether. He sagely told me that if I had only gone into business a few years previous I might have made something out of it, but there was no longer any hope. That was twelve years ago and ragtime is now stronger than ever." The truth is that it was on the way out, and the Christensen schools would have to adapt in order to follow the national musical trend to jazz. It was reported in They All Played Ragtime that some 200,000 students had registered nationally with the schools by 1923. A 1923 edition of the Music Trade Review noted that Christensen had ninety-two branches around the country. Totals would eventually rise to 350,000 by the onset of the Great Depression, with another 200,000 by 1935, although the latter figure can likely be disputed given the economic climate. In any case, the school was likely responsible for a great many ragtime pianists that ranged from hobbyists to small town heroes, many of them perhaps playing either in Vaudeville or for movie houses of the era. Much of the success of his program, beyond the frequently updated exercises and examples, was his willingness to trust other teachers to follow the program and succeed as he had with it. Many of them also had careers as performers or composers. Among those who are known are Robert Marine from New York, Bernard Brin from Seattle, Marcella Henry from Chicago and Edward J. Mellinger from St. Louis. It has been noted that at times 500 or more students would attend recitals as Mellinger's St. Louis branch, and some of them became large celebrations of playing with student/teacher duets, trios, and perhaps even more, creating good press for Christensen.In addition to running this enterprise, Axel continued to write rags at this time, sometimes published separately but more often included in the courses. While not quite of the same quality as some of the better selling pieces of the time, they were still carefully crafted and accessible to his students. In 1912 he reportedly became one of the first artists to record "hand-played" piano rolls for the QRS company, a claim later contradicted by ads for another company saying he had not recorded for anybody else before 1923. Nonetheless, the QRS rolls state that each piece was "Played by the Composer." Christensen also published selected rags by other composers, favoring those who taught for them. Another great promotional tool was his monthly Ragtime Review magazine which ran from December 1914 to late 1918, and included tricks and tips, humorous stories, articles on performers, composition reviews and reprints of rags by many publishers who licensed the pieces to him, perhaps in exchange for advertising which was prominent in most editions. Among those was John S. Stark, who allowed one of his ragtime publications or articles to be published in the magazine each month during at least the first year, and sporadically from 1915 on. The bulk of pieces that appeared subsequently were by Christensen or others who taught at his various branches in the Midwest. The Ragtime Review magazine's subscriber base was eventually bought by publisher Walter Jacobs around 1918, and he incorporated it into his own Melody Magazine, which was largely managed by composer George L. Cobb. The circumstances of this buyout are unclear, but it likely removed some competition for Jacobs as well as giving him a greatly increased circulation. It should also be noted that many others tried to emulate Christensen's publishing and teaching success, and some of the literature for smaller ragtime or piano schools are obviously directly derived, and in some cases plagiarized from the Czar's own work. However, his name dominated the field, particularly in cities where his schools continued to do good business. His Los Angeles branch even claimed a few movie stars in the late 1910s among their clientele. As ragtime languished and jazz thrived with the approaching 1920s, Christensen quickly adapted, and soon his ragtime instruction books and schools became jazz-oriented. As novelty piano became popular in the early 1920s he added novelty riffs and licks to the course, as well as some novelty compositions of his own. There were even books on how to execute piano breaks in a variety of ways, an indispensable aid to the amateur jazz band pianist. On a few occasions in the 1920s Axel recorded some sides for the Okeh and Paramount record labels. In 1923 he signed a contract with the United States Music Company to record piano rolls of his own works, as well as instruction rolls of the Christensen system. That same year he opened a music store at 526 South Western Avenue in Chicago, featuring musical merchandise, Okeh records, music rolls and radio amplifiers. Axel
The tour opened at the Circle Theatre in Indianapolis, Indiana, for a two week stay in January 1924. It was presented with the cooperation of and promotion by the U.S. Music Company. So as expected, many of the pieces he played just happened to be available on rolls in the lobby. He gave his own shows around the country in both private and public venues, and occasionally with Vaudeville troupes. His own shows were sort of a one-man Vaudeville evening with music, singing and stories (no dancing was reported). Among the advertised treats were syncopated versions of classics like the ubiquitous Poet and Peasant Overture. This is in line with his comment that "classical music is one of the finest of arts and dwells briefly upon the original narratives of some of the best-known classics." In the act he also demonstrated how some of these classics were often used as the basis for a popular tune, including his own syncopated versions of the such works. Overall, the tour was a success for both the artist and the sponsor, who reported an increase in roll sales in each city Christensen appeared in. The entertaining Mr. Christensen continued to tour for much of the rest of the decade. In 1925 and 1926 he was put on the popular Orpheum and Keith circuit of vaudeville theaters earning at least $1,000 per week. At that same time he appeared on many of the earliest radio stations in the country, including KYW (Philadelphia), WEBH, WGN, WMAQ, WQJ and WLS (all Chicago stations). He also recorded some of his ethnic comic monologues used on stage on the Broadway label, a subsidiary of Paramount. He also attended or hosted many events in Chicago when he was in town. On December 7, 1926, a "stag dinner" was given in honor of the maestro by the Chicago Piano Club which he had joined several years prior. The affair was reportedly a great success, and Piano Club members awarded him with a solid gold pocket watch. In early 1927 Christensen started a series of programs on Chicago station WHT owned by the Wrigely corporation. One of the highlights of the first show was an imitation of the late Bert Williams singing Somebody Else, in addition to his usual comedy. Axel's regular haunt in Chicago in 1926 and 1927 was the Palace Theater, which no longer required his services after their conversion to sound in 1928. Over the next three years he continued to regale audiences everywhere on radio and in person with his humorous anecdotes, which more and more took the balance of an evening with less piano playing. A book of many of these stories, Axel Grease for Your Funny Bone, was published in 1930. Also by 1930, his son Carle had joined the act, performing at the piano more frequently on stage with his famous father. By the time the Great Depression set in around 1930, Axel's schools and even his publications were likely considered a frivolous expense by most consumers in light of the economic downturn, and he had to scale back the operation. It had clearly become a family business, as in 1930 Mr. Christensen, now living in the exclusive River Forest suburb of Chicago, lists himself as the proprietor of his small empire, with Reine as a manager and Carle, now 20, as an assistant manager. Many of the schools closed, although he still published courses in learning jazz, and later swing music, throughout the decade. Axel still managed to find performance work in the final days of Vaudeville and for many private functions and conventions. By this time he was promoting comedy, a much needed commodity, as a major part of his entertainments. This included promotional material with examples of his jokes and humorous stories. Carle Christensen married Alyce Oglozinski in Chicago on April 20, 1931. The couple subsequently moved to California soon after, perhaps to manage a Christensen school there or even pursue an additional degree (the circumstances are still under investigation). Alyce gave birth to Carlos Christensen on March 15, 1933 with David G. Christensen following within a couple of years. However, the couple was back in Chicago at some point later in the decade with Axel and Reine, as Carlos was schooled in Illinois. In the mean time, the elder Christensen switched radio stations in 1934, now performing regularly in WJJD in Chicago. The schools there remained in business throughout the 1930s and into the 1940s. Indeed, an advertisment run in Chicago papers from the summer of 1945 through the following spring promoted the Christensen School of Popular Music, urging the reader to "Learn Swing Piano the Axel Christensen Way." The ads appear to cease around June, 1946. At some after World War Two, the extended family relocated to Southern California. Carle and his brood returned there permanently around 1946 and Axel and Reine followed in late 1947 or early 1948. As related by Chris Christensen, Axel was a strong believer in the Baha'i faith, and there was a particularly notable temple and school in Ojai, just east of Santa Barbara. It does help to clarify why Carle had an Ojai address for many years, and indeed retired there. It also speaks clearly on the strong faith base for the Christensen family that kept them together. According to his grandson David, Axel not only kept on performing in Los Angeles after his move, but made a rare television appearance. He was listed as appearing on KLAC 13, October 4, 1951, on the show You're Never Too Old. Christensen performed all over the Los Angeles area for a variety of functions nearly up to his death. Many were private functions for small civic organizations, and there is at least one notice published as late as April 3, 1955, in a Long Beach, California newspaper. The music school entrepreneur died months later in Los Angeles at age 74 leaving behind a wake of happy people who somehow had managed to learn the joy of ragtime through his methodologies. His wife survived him through 1962. Carle continued to issue Christensen publications through the mid 1960s. He retired to Ojai and lived there until his death in 1996. Carlos, a music enthusiast by birthright who became a computer scientist in the 1960s, died in the spring of 2007 in Concord, Massachusetts, where he had been collecting memories of his youth with grandfather Axel. David G. Christensen is the sole remaining member of the family who knew Axel, and has followed the Christensen creative bent as producer of video and music projects, residing in Port Townsend, Washington. Many thanks to Canadian Ragtime historian Ted Tjaden who provided some of the information here to supplement my research, as well as posting many Christensen items on his site, including the entire run of the Ragtime Review. Please visit his site at www.ragtimepiano.ca. Also, Robert Perry for providing the QRS piano roll information and Andrew Barrett on a couple of the recordings. Thanks also to Chris Christensen, the family of Carlos Christensen, and David G. Christensen for some additional clarifications. | |||||||||||||||||||
Edward Claypoole was truly a court composer; literally. In spite of a pretty good legacy of great compositions, he spent his career working in the courts. Born in Baltimore to court clerk Captain James Yeardley Claypoole and his wife Mary (Molly) Claypoole, both Maryland natives, Eddie was the youngest of five children, including Robert G. (11/1875), James Y. Jr. (11/1876), Genevieve W. (6/1879) and Martha A. (10/1881). Captain Claypoole was also involved in politics in Baltimore, part of his circle of friends in his position as a clerk in the Court of Common Pleas. Edward would spend virtually all of his life in Baltimore. Some of the narrative of Claypoole's life was derived from the extraordinary efforts of Dave Jasen and Gene Jones in the book That American Rag published in 2000. It is a highly recommended source for a very different look at where ragtime came from and how it eventually reached the public. The rest was uncovered by the author in collective public records and articles from the ragtime era. The error in the 1900 Census was pointed out to the author by researcher Barry Champan who found the misalignment with the death of James five years prior. | ||||||
A native of New York state born to Linus B. Cobb and Jeannette (Maine) Cobb (often called "Nettie"), George L. Cobb was a versatile composer who displayed inherent musical talent at a young age. He spent most of his early years in Mexico, New York. The son of a farmer, Linus started in the grocery business, but by the 1890s he was working as a merchant, real estate broker and entrepreneur. The senior Cobb also had a hand in organizing the Mexico Electric Light, Heat and Power Company in 1890 when electricity in the home was still a fairly new concept. Linus was also involved with the Mexico Military Academy from 1894 to 1895 as a trustee.
For a time he even sold bicycles during the beginning of the cycling craze of the 1890s. A snippet from the Mexico Independent of April 26, 1893, reads as follows: When in Syracuse the other day we went into the store of Reuben Wood's Sons, and were much surprised to see so many bicycles of the best makes. It is really a beautiful assortment, and it is no wonder that the firm is receiving orders for machines from various parts of the State. So well pleased were we with the wheels that, although owning a very handsome tricycle, we could not help buying one of them - the Queen City. Olin Wheeler, who was with us, got himself a Falcon - a beautiful machine. Carl Ballard and George L. Cobb have each a Falcon wheel, purchased of the same firm. L. B. Cobb of this village is agent for these and other wheels sold by the above-named firm.
After his traditional schooling George, received training from the School of Harmony and Composition at Syracuse University, attending there from 1904 to perhaps 1908. While in school he had one his first compositions, Dimples, locally published, and self-published Mr. Yankee, both at age 19. The following year Cobb started releasing pieces under the imprint of the H.C. Weasner & Company in Buffalo. One of them, Fleetfoot, was evidently a very good seller for the firm, and by 1907 Weasner claimed that over 100,000 copies were sold, a very high number for an instrumental by an unknown writer, so questionable at best.
The first mention of Cobb in the news was located in the Buffalo Morning Express on January 20, 1907, mentioning another publisher with which he would have a long relationship. "The Express has received a march and two-step, 'Western Life,' by George L. Cobb, published by Charles I. Davis, Detroit, Mich. It has been featured by Sousa's Band and it is sure to make a hit, for it has all the elements of success - pretty melodies, good harmonies and irresistible swing." After graduation Cobb and his family moved to Buffalo, although his intended career track there was not readily discerned. It was most likely to work as a performer and perhaps an arranger or composer. His earlier compositions had helped him win some writing contests, and one in particular would emerge in his new locale. It was a promotional rag of sorts titled Buffalo Means Business, for which he won the prize of free publication of the promotional piece. At the very least it attracted the attention of his eventual frequent lyricist Jack Yellen (1892-1991), who was a reporter with the Buffalo Courier through at least 1914 (potentially a bit longer). They wrote their first song together in short order.The subsequent submission of Cobb's Rubber Plant Rag to Walter Jacobs Publishers of Boston garnered him visibility and significant exposure in the East. Cobb would end up spending several fruitful years working with and for Jacobs. His earliest rags saw moderate success and distribution, and George started to compose pieces much more intricate in nature. Jacobs had hoped he had an exclusive arrangement with Cobb for his instrumental compositions, but later found out otherwise. A number of these compositions were released in packets in the early teens and beyond as orchestrations arranged for bands or movie theater ensembles. As per a Music Trade Review notice from March 12, 1910, this practice was clearly already in process. Concerning an announcement by Jacobs of the premiere of his new magazine, Orchestra Monthly, they noted that "This [publication] is to be to the orchestra what his 'Cadenza' is to the banjo, mandolin and guitar fraternity. In this number [75,000 copies] is a new instrumental piece, 'The Aggravation Rag,' by George L. Cobb, composer of the popular 'Rubber Plant Rag.' This is given on orchestra-size plates for ten pieces and a similar new selection will be made a feature each month. These selections will not be printed or published in any other form and can be had only in the Orchestra Monthly." In spite of this proclamation, both pieces did appear as piano solos in short order. In the 1910 Census (where the family name was erroneously notated as Coff), George was living in Buffalo with his parents and his maternal grandmother. He is listed as a composer of music and the occupation for Linus appears to be mines or miner, so he may have been invested in a mine of some kind as part of his real estate business. After a scant output of pieces in 1910, including one with Yellen, there was an unexplained dearth of Cobb compositions in 1911. George's sole 1911 composition with Yellen was a song of average quality. It is probable that Yellen was in Michigan by this time for further schooling. However, the output increased substantially in 1912. It is unclear what else George was doing for income, but living with his parents obviously eased that burden considerably. Cobb was briefly married to Clara (or Claire) Bailey, the estimated marriage and subsequent divorce between mid-1912 and late 1915. A Clara Bailey of upstate New York was found in Census records, and was likely his first wife. She was shown to be single in 1910 and divorced in 1920, and was in the right area and time frame to have encountered Cobb.Sometimes overlooked by pianists are the songs that Cobb wrote or co-wrote. They had the undercurrent of piano-based ragtime with the salability of popular songs. He also had some success at writing his own lyrics from time to time. Just the same, upon his graduation in 1913 from the University of Michigan, Jack Yellen came back to Buffalo to continue to write songs with the composer he so admired. Among the most frequently performed Cobb and Yellen songs are a number of "Dixie" tunes. These include Listen to That Dixie Band, See Dixie First and their first major tune about the storied south, All Aboard for Dixie Land. As recounted by performer/historian Frederick Hodges, the pair had trouble selling the song during the difficult year of 1913 when publishers were fighting with discount houses, performers, and even composers wanting some equity. So they ended up selling the piece to the smaller publishing house of J. Fred Helf. In October a new show by composers Rudolf Friml and Otto Hauerbach titled High Jinks was receiving only tepid response in its trial run in upstate New York. Producer Arthur Hammerstein was looking for something to save it from total failure, making adjustments at every theater it was shown in. One of the problems was that there were no real "hit" tunes in the score for star Elizabeth Murray, a long-established energetic "coon shouter," to put over on the audience. In Chicago, Hammerstein decided to interpolate All Aboard for Dixie Land into the show, creating both a hit show and a hit song in an instant. By the time it got to Broadway in December 1913, the entire nature of the production had changed due to that piece. It helped codify Cobb and Yellen as very credible tunesmiths. Helf could not handle the sudden demand for the Cobb/Yellen tune, so All Aboard for Dixie Land and some others from the show were sold to the dominant firm of Jerome H. Remick for around $2,500. The song became a greater hit 1914. The play, however, barely made it into the spring. Ironically it was silent film that saved the play and made the song an even bigger hit. The decision to include two of the song numbers, albeit without sound, in a Mabel Normand film titled Our Mutual Girl, benefitted both the play and composers, and by April it was back on track. Everybody involved with the show, including the composers, made out very well in the end. Miss Murray continued to favor Cobb and Yellen pieces for some time. Another major Dixie song, Are You From Dixie?, became an early Al Jolson hit. It has since been frequently quoted in movies and for many years, thanks to composer Carl Stalling, had a heavy presence in Warner Brothers cartoons. One of their biggest successes was the now ubiquitous Alabama Jubilee, still a favorite of ragtime pianists and banjo players everywhere. The cover once again featured Murray, and was a blessing for her. After a contentious battle concerning issues with High Jinks she was enjoined from performing All Aboard for Dixie Land in public. Alabama Jubilee became an enormous hit for her and the composers in the fall of 1915. Yellen's down-home lyrics certainly contributed to the popularity of these songs, as they fit to Cobb's melodies so well. From that point on many of the pair's collective works became million-sellers in both printed and recorded form.Noting that Cobb was submitting his works to many different New York firms, and even to Will Rossiter in Chicago who had taken on his hit Just For To-Night, Jacobs finally thought to offer Cobb steady work as a staff arranger, which George soon accepted. As announced in The Music Trade Review of September 30, 1916, "Walter Jacobs, whose establishment in Bosworth street, Boston, is a busy hive of industry, has now associated with him two able men who will prove without doubt of the most valuable assistance in his work. One of these is George L. Cobb, of Buffalo, who is widely known as a composer, and, who besides writing popular compositions, will do more or less traveling. Mr. Cobb is best known for his song, 'Are You from Dixie?' which is having an enormous vogue. Another of the Dixie numbers is entitled 'See Dixie First,' and this is being put out by Jacobs." (The other staff member mentioned was the largely unknown banjoist C.V. Butterman.) However, to Jacob's regret, he did not specify exclusivity as a composer for the firm in Cobb's contract, so his employee was free to shop around for the best deal for his songs and instrumentals. Cobb pieces still appeared under the Rossiter imprint as well. Cobb moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts in late 1916 to facilitate this new position, bringing his parents with him. On November 20, 1916 he married his second wife, Mary Belle Barr, formerly of Buffalo and also Saxton, Pennsylvania, in Boston. As reported in The Music Trade Review of December 9, 1916: "The ceremony was performed at the parsonage of the Union Congregational Church by Rev. Ernest G. Guthrie, the pastor. Mr. Cobb and his wife are making their home in Allston, and will be at home to their friends after January 1." One hit that Jacobs was able to get his hands on was the 1917 patriotic war booster song The Battle Song of Liberty by Cobb and Yellen. Cleverly adapted from F.E. Bigelow's famous march Our Director, it was one of many tunes that managed a swell of popularity until George M. Cohan's Over There swept the world. He also spent some time traveling in 1916 promoting his employer, with sightings in Chicago and Michigan. While still selling his tunes to Jacobs and other publishers, George was assigned to write for the Jacobs' company newest music trade magazine, The Tuneful Yankee. He held this post for a few years starting in January of 1917. Cobb's role there was as a music critic or commentator on compositions submitted by amateurs, which he handled quite deftly, but also with brutal honesty at times. In 1918 the magazine was recast as Melody, and his column was called "Just Between You and Me," which ironically was often a not-so-private venue for the occasional evisceration of amateur composers. If he thought something submitted to the magazine for analysis was tripe, he had little trouble saying so.Many of Cobb's later compositions also appeared only in the magazine, and not as separate sheet music publications. There is speculation that pieces attributed to other composers might be by Cobb, with Leo Gordon being his primary pseudonym, and that some of the compositions from this time were simply not at the same level as his more notable sheet music pieces because of the rigors of contribution and editing deadlines. Even though he worked for Jacobs during the teens and later, Cobb still published where he could get the best deals and distribution. One of his overall biggest successes, and personal favorites, was his Russian Rag, based on Sergei Rachmaninoff's famous C# minor prelude, released by Will Rossiter of Chicago. The esteemed contemporary classical composer was reportedly nonplussed by this adaptation, but it did provide him good exposure. Russian Rag was first featured in Chicago at the Majestic Theater by Mademoiselle Rhea who was a costume dancer in Vaudeville. Even though she was featured on some of the covers of the piece as well, her endorsement was less viable, based on reviews of her act. One reviewer noted that her accompanying violinist and pianist were only average which detracted from her dancing ability. So there was a slow start for sales of Russian Rag until 1919 when it was recorded and endorsed by the famous Six Brown Brothers ragtime saxophone sextet. They were also shown on the cover of subsequent editions of the piece. As quoted below, the group's leader said that Rachmaninoff actually enjoyed their rendition. The rag ultimately became so popular that a few years later it was re-written as The New Russian Rag to reflect Cobb's more advanced Novelty Ragtime compositional style. Another 1918 piece of Cobb's that the Brown Brothers recorded created a stir in music circles in the United State,s and almost caused an international incident. Among those American critics was dissenter Gregor M. Mazer who in the September 1920 issue Melody magazine said: "[It is] disgraceful... the way beautiful music is being converted into vulgar, impossible jazz... When Grieg’s immortal 'Peer Gynt' is printed on a program 'Peter Gink' it is time for all music lovers to rebel against this outrageous profanity." Further criticism came from Grieg's homeland as reported in the November 24, 1920 New York Tribune: Norway in particular and Scandinavian music lovers in general, are shocked to find that Edvard Hagerup Grieg's famous "Peer Gynt Suite" has been jazzed and is being circulated in its corrupted form on phonograph records. Representatives of high Norwegian culture, who have a sympathetic feeling for Grieg's austere compositions, have forwarded to the government authorities at Washington a memorial protesting against "such a desecration of genius."Composers, singers and conductors in New York who expressed their views yesterday are inclined to think that Norway is right. Tom Brown, however, who transformed Shubert's "Serenade" and Rachmannioff's "Prelude" [Cobb's Russian Rag] into the raggiest of rags and whose company played the jazzed "Suite" for records, has a different opinion. "Sergei Rachmaninoff heard us play the adaptation of his work." he said, "and liked it, considering this a method of popularizing real music. We play such adaptations to attract attention and we find that the public takes to adaptations better because familiar melodies appeal. That's reason enough." Mme. Marie Sundelius, Enrico Caruso and Albert Spalding, an American violinist, were of the opinion that Norway has just cause for indignation. Norway, it seems, learned of the desecration when an assortment of American talking machine records reached that country recently. One record, entitled "Peter Gink." composed by George L. Cobb and played by the Six Brown Brothers, was heard by Norwegian music lovers. Shocked beyond words, they began preparation of the memorial and it was forwarded with haste to Washington. Mme. Sundelius, soloist of the Metropolitan Opera Company, said that she had been reading of the "sacrilege" in Swedish papers. "A composer does not like people to use his melodies in that way," she said, "and it was not a nice thing to make ragtime out of Grieg. Surely there is enough popular music to adapt without going to the classics." Caruso, whose voice is recorded by the company which first put out the Grieg ragtime, said: "There ought to be a law against it. It is a shame." "An awful shame, outrageous." was the comment of Mischa Levitski, the pianist. Arthur Bodanzky, conductor of the National Symphony Orchestra and also with the Metropolitan Opera Company, said he had no objection to jazz, but the jazz makers should at least be original about it and have enough invention to get along without robbing the classics. Mr. Spalding, as an American violinist, expressed the opinion that the public, interested in good music, and also those jealous of the country's good name as to culture, should see to it that good music is not twisted into ragtime. "There is an element of interest in ragtime," he said, "from a rhythmic standpoint, but certainly our fine melodies should not be dished out in that form. There should be legislation to prevent it." It appears that Cobb, who surprisingly seems to have received very little blame, most certainly got away with the outrage, and since plagiarism was not at issue, no Federal laws were passed against such parodies.
He followed Peter Gink by editing and publishing The Blacksmith Rag, a parody on the Anvil Chorus from Giuseppe Verdi's Il Trovatore, and a clever take on the Toreador Song from Georges Bizet's opera Carmen.As of the 1920 Census, George was living in Cambridge, Massachusetts, with his wife and mother, with his father Linus listed as the head of the household. George was listed as a musical composer with his "own company," although the nature of that assertion is unclear. Linus was listed as a broker with his own office. Cobb continued his acerbic writings in Melody. Throughout the 1920s he also composed a number of great novelties both within and separate from Melody, such as Piano Salad, Snuggle Pup and Chromatic Capers. Given that only Cobb and British-born composer Richard E. Hildreth were permanent members of Jacobs' writing staff, it is likely that many of the pieces released in Melody and even as separate sheets were composed by one of them under a variety of pseudonyms. However, pinpointing which of these were used by Cobb would be a daunting forensic task, so other than the Leo Gordon pieces they are not included in his song list. He also advertised from time to time as a free-lance creator of melodies composed for lyrics, using his home address as this was evidently a moonlighting operation. Linus Cobb died in Boston on January 24, 1925, and was buried in Mexico, New York. At some point in the late 1920s Cobb divorced Mary and moved to Somerville, then in the 1930s to Brookline, both suburbs of Boston, Massachusetts. The 1930 Census shows him as divorced and working as a publishing salesman, as he seems to have mostly retired from music composition by this time. It also shows that he his mother Jeannette was still living with him. From that point on little is known of his life in retirement. Cobb's 1942 draft registration, perhaps the final official document of his life, has him still in Brookline, working for the Chamber of Commerce, with his "person who will always know you" reference being one Evelyn F. Eaton (b.1894) in nearby Cambridge. We do not know the nature of their relationship. His final composition, written after an absence of more than a decade, appeared in 1942, the year he joined ASCAP. Spending his last days in a convalescent home in Brookline, Massachusetts, George Linus Cobb died of coronary thrombosis complicated by a duodenal ulcer at age 56 on Christmas Day 1942 [December 27 has also been cited]. Curiously, his first wife Claire is cited on his death certificate, which does show him as divorced. His gravesite is in his home town of Mexico, New York. The instrumental compositions of George L. Cobb, which span over two decades, have generally been put into three categories of development. His earliest pieces are thought to be in the Popular vein, which was in part written as something for the sake of getting sold, although with a bit more aplomb in Cobb's case. By the mid 1910s he was getting much more adventurous and clever, so given the chord changes he was using and the complex trios, the rags and intermezzos from this period fall into the advanced ragtime category. Finally, he had little trouble adapting to the novelty style invented or adopted by many of his younger peers. While his novelty works never sold in large numbers, they were still very worthy entries into the collective. The strength of his many songs lies in memorably simple melodies with chord progressions that enhanced, but did not get in the way of those melodies. Many thanks to Canadian Ragtime historian Ted Tjaden who provided some of the information here to supplement my research, as well as rediscovery of many of the previously unknown Cobb pieces. Visit his site at www.ragtimepiano.ca. | ||||||
This was a tricky biography to research because there were no less than three musical Charles Cohens in the same general geographic area. With a little extra guidance and help from researcher Keith Emmons of hulapages.com, the author has settled on one, but will discuss the other two briefly and what they composed, or potentially composed. This is an unusual biography entry, but given that second and third Cohens both made contributions to music during the ragtime era their stories should be told. The first target is Arthur Charles Cohen in Philadelphia born in Germany in 1875 and immigrated to the United States in 1892. He was a piano teacher and self-employed musician throughout his life. That there was little ragtime published in Philadelphia would suggest the possibility that this Cohen, who could have used his middle name to avoid being confused with Arthur M. Cohen of Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania, might have published primarily with Vandersloot Music Publishing Company in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. However, after information uncovered on two other Cohens and the presence of a couple of popular pieces published in Cleveland, Ohio, it seems likely, in the author's estimation that this Cohen was potentially responsible only for a series of five pieces released between 1932 and 1936 attributed to a Charles Cohen. There is some possibility that that it was also the second Charles Cohen discussed below. These were five songs composed to known stories or lyrics, somewhat in the matter of Texas composer David Guion who had been resurrecting old American tunes in new arrangements. The last of the five, Rivets, was a contemporary look at American workers. All five were released as a set in New York in 1936. No further information was available on the Philadelphia Charles Cohen. The second Charles Cohen was born in rural Kansas to German (Prussian) immigrants Henry and Sarah Cohen. He was one of six children, four of which survived their childhood. Others include Lenah (c.1873), Ralph (c.1877), Mattie (c.1879 but deceased by 1900), and Hannah (c.1882). As of the 1880 Census, the family was living in Saint Marys, Kansas, in Pottawatomie County, northwest of Topeka, with Henry working as a retail merchant in dry goods. Now to the Charles Cohen who was responsible for some of the better known rags published in Pennsylvania in the 1910s. While the expectation might be that he, like the other two Cohens, was of European or Russian Jewish heritage, this is not the case. This Charles Cohen was a black composer, born in Georgia (he cites the town of Cuba which may be in error) in 1878. He was the youngest of what appeared to be a mixed family of whites, blacks and mulattos, likely dating back to the time of slavery. The family was found in Rome, Georgia in 1880, with all of the non-white members shown as servants in a house run by tobacco merchants. This includes his mother, Susan Cohen, and at least three potential siblings who were also listed as Black (Julius [1873], Lizzie [1870] and Jacob [1868]), and perhaps two more listed as Mulatto (Celia [1856] and Julia [1852]). While Susan shows as married no spouse was specified in 1880 Census. Charles cites his father as having been born in England (making him potentially a mulatto) in the 1900 Census, but all others cite South Carolina for his origin. Nothing definitive was found on his upbringing or musical training. However, many well-to-do families in the South at that time had a keyboard instrument of some kind in their home. At some point, Charles recieved some formal training in music as well as piano tuning and repair, as he would engage in both as a career later in life. Many thanks go to research Keith Emmons who helped to pinpoint the harder to find Cohen in Binghamton, the one who didn't initially pop to the top in the Census searches. Once his identity was made clear the rest of his story was easy to construct. The information on the first two Cohens was compiled entirely by the author. |
Glover Compton is one of those frustrating ragtime figures who is often mentioned and was everywhere playing with everyone, yet little concrete information can be found directly about him. His narrative was also part of the core of the 1950 book They All Played Ragtime, including parts of the extensive interviews of Glover taken by authors Rudi Blesh and Harriet Janis. Yet even that left
holesracies in his story. This biography represents an attempt to fill in more than has often been seen on this beloved and often busy ragtime performer.
Glover's mother, Laura Compton, had her first child, Maud, at just 13 or 14 years old. She is listed in the 1880 Census in Bergin Knob, Kentucky, married to 22 year old farm laborer John Compton, and as 19 herself, with Maud as 1 year old. However, all subsequent records give her birth year as 1866 or 1867, so there may have been some obvious but understandable deception in this case. When she was around 17 to 18, Laura gave birth to Glover in Harrodsburg, Kentucky, about 50 miles north from Bergin Knob. The birth year is most consistently shown as 1884 on most documents, but on his draft record in 1918 it shows as 1883. His death record shows 1884, so that is the most consistent date. Laura is shown in Harrodsburg in 1900 working as a cook and as having been widowed. In that same Census, Glover is listed as a boot black, a common occupation for black teens at that time. They also had two lodgers in their home, possibly for income reasons. Note that while his name is often shown as J. Glover Compton, he was listed consistently as Glover Compton on Census records and travel manifests, and as Glover John Compton on his 1918 draft record. The origin of the J. Glover derivation of his name is unclear, but he may have originally been John Glover Compton after his father, having changed it by his teens. Compton's name first appears as a pianist/entertainer in Louisville, Kentucky around 1904. The best-known pianist in town was "Piano Price" Davis, who fostered Compton to some extent and hooked him up with occasional jobs, sometimes by simply not showing up to his own gigs in favor of gambling instead. One venue mentioned was Jimmy Boyd's Cafe at 10th and Walnut where he played upstairs for $10.50 a week. Compton also says he visited the fair in St. Louis in 1904, but did not play in any venues there. It was during a 1904 musical tour to Louisville that a slightly disgruntled Tony Jackson, tired of the road, first met Compton. The two soon became friends, performing for a time at the Cosmopolitan Club. They also wrote a song together, which remains unpublished, but Compton recorded it in his later years. That piece, The Clock of Time, was reportedly repurposed in 1922 by composer J. Berni Barbour as the salacious My Daddy Rocks Me (With One Steady Roll), the song which ultimately provided the name for the genre of Rock and Roll. Jackson eventually went back to New Orleans for the next couple of years. It wasn't long before Glover was well regarded for his playing skills and reliability. But he didn't stay put for very long, choosing the life of an itinerant pianist for the next several years. In 1906 he spent time in Chicago playing at Elite Number 1 on State Street, run by Art Cardozo and Teenan Jones. In spite of his travels, Glover remained based in Louisville, and is listed there in 1910 in both the Kentucky and Federal Census records with his mother Laura working as a laundress, and Glover as a dance hall musician. During his travels he spent time in Wyoming, Washington, New York and Chicago, the latter where he met up with one long-time partner and one partner from the past. The long-time partner was singer Nettie Lewis who he married around 1911. Chicago became Compton's new home base, and he moved his mother Laura there as well. One of his most frequent haunts when he wasn't on the road was the Elite Club on South State Street, which also featured notable musicians like Jelly Roll Morton and Earl Hines during its 18 year life. The other partner was Tony Jackson, who had come to Chicago from New Orleans for good, and the two quickly got back together. They worked as a dual piano act from time to time over the next several years. Glover and Jackson exchanged many ideas as well, expanding the scope of how each of them played. Another occasional playing partner and friend was composer Shelton Brooks, who in 1916 dedicated his piece Walkin' the Dog to Compton and local actor Bud Joyner.In the mid 1910s wanderlust struck Compton again for a while. There is a story about Glover that comes from when he worked on the Barbary Coast in Northern California, as early as January of 1913 by his own reckoning. One of his favored venues there was the St. Francis club between Pacific and Broadway. According to West Coast pianist Sid Le Protti who he met there, Le Protti played one of his original tunes for Compton who quickly learned it. In 1915 Le Protti heard his tune played again, but this time it was named Canadian Capers. Evidently Compton had played it back in Chicago at the repeated request (with the lure of dollar tips) of pianist Henry Cohen, and Cohen collaborated with three of his friends to "compose" the piece Canadian Capers, which included Le Protti's melody in the B strain. At a later time when Le Protti asked Cohen about this, the latter pointed to Compton as the one who taught him the melody, and when asked if he could use it, Compton had no argument. Compton confirmed this story at some point as well. It is known that Compton was on the road in the latter part of the 1910s, but work in playing ragtime was not always available. He says he "palled around with Jelly Roll Morton" during the latter's visit to the 1915 Panama-Pacific International Exposition San Francisco. Most of the local performers played at the Exposition because the Barbary Coast clubs were temporarily shut down during the event. Then he went back to Chicago for part of late 1916 through early 1917, playing with Nettie at the Panama Café until it was shut down. Another act playing there, the Panama Trio which included Florence Mills and Ada "Bricktop" Smith, helped forge a friendship with the latter that would later provide him a great European connection. From late 1917 to 1918 Glover and Nettie spent six months down in Los Angeles at the Waldorf Cafe while Jelly Roll played at the Cadillac.While they did perform along the Barbary Coast following that gig, Compton's September 1918 draft record shows him employed as a porter for the Southern Pacific Railroad, with the couple living in the Oakland/Alameda area.In 1919 they went up to Seattle, Washington for a while where he played at the Entertainer's Night Club on Main Street with a small combo. The Comptons are shown there as late as January of 1920 in the Census, sharing quarters with some of the other entertainers. Glover is listed as a "cabaret musician" and Nettie as a "cabaret actress." Curiously his birth state is listed there as Missouri, yet it is clearly the same person. Since the 1920 Census was not taken consistently at that same time across the country, they managed to show up in it again in February in Chicago, back with Laura, who was working as a cook, and now with Nettie's mother living there as well. It is also indicated that Glover owned his home, so it is probable Laura had been living in it while the couple had their adventures out west. With the jazz age in full swing in Chicago, Glover readily adapted his style, and was soon playing with musicians such as jazz and blues singer Alberta Hunter, clarinetist Jimmie Noone, and drummer Ollie Powers, both of the latter disciples of leading jazz performer Joseph "King" Oliver. For the next few years he would travel back and forth between Chicago and Seattle with small bands. Compton recorded a couple of energetic sides in 1923 with Ollie Powers' Harmony Syncopators later known as J. Glover Compton and the Syncopators. Glover's group performed for some time at the Oriental Café on South State Street, in the former location of their old haunt, the Panama Café. There he worked with both Ms. Hunter and Nettie. Another mentioned venue was the Dreamland Café where Oliver would join Compoton's band on
Compton settled in at a cafe started by Chicago expatriate, Ada "Bricktop" Smith who he had reconnect with. It was the famous Chez Bricktop in Paris. Ada had first invited Compton over to France in 1926 after her pianist was killed by his girlfriend in a dare situation that he finally lost. Glover played there with the existing group, The Palm Beach Six. Compton is described during this period as an early version of Willie "The Lion" Smith, a consummate entertainer, complete with the cigar hanging out of his mouth, the large repertoire, and his direct engagement with the audience. Another place he frequented was the Royal Box in Paris owned by Joe Zelli. While in Paris seemed to be good for Glover's career and finances, it did not help his status in the U.S. as many simply forgot who he was. But the French knew who he was, particularly after the famous shooting incident of December 20, 1928. Many of the transplanted musicians were gathered at Bricktop's early that morning when an argument broke out between Sidney Bechet and banjoist Gilbert McKendrick. The cause was evidently a dispute about chord changes of all things, which Bechet found offensive to his musical intellect. Another story had to do with who had failed to buy a round of drinks. Whatever the cause, Compton, who already had an ambiguous relationship with Bechet going back several years, evidently tried to intervene. As McKendrick emerged from the bar, Bechet, who had gone to fetch his firearm, started shooting. McKendrick was completely missed, but two witnesses were wounded, and Compton was shot in the leg. Both men got 15 months but served a year. Compton spent several months in the hospital, and says that Bechet and McKendrick had promised to pay his bill, but they were never able to. When released in 1929, Bechet found out that Compton was planning on suing him for compensation for the wound. Bechet quickly got word to Compton to watch out for his other leg, and the suit idea quickly evaporated. Even though Bechet and McKendrick became friends to some degree, Compton remained on Bechet's bad side from that point on. Fortunately for Glover, Bechet and McKendrick were asked to depart France permanently soon after their sentence was served. Compton continued to play at Bricktop's, eventually favoring a long-term gig at Harry's New York Bar owned by jockey Ted Sloane, also in Paris. Glover and his wife continued to cross the Atlantic into the late 1930s, with one final voyage documented in October of 1939. He came back to New York City this time, forced in part by the onset of war in Europe, playing in a jazz piano joint, reportedly the type where people are there to drink and talk, not to listen to music. Within a couple of years the Comptons returned to Chicago, and he reassociated himself with Noone for many years. Author Rudi Blesh found him there in 1949, and interviewed him at length for his upcoming book They All Played Ragtime, getting a wealth of information (although not entirely accurate) about various ragtime players in the Windy City. In the early 1950s he opened his own bar in Chicago, a place where he could have some control over the playing environment. It was here that he spent his last few years, and seems likely that it's where his 1956 taped interview set with archivist Birch Smith took place, Compton's only true recorded piano solos. Another artist that spent considerable time with Compton and befriended him was rising star Johnny Maddox from Gallatin, Tennessee. Johnny has a considerable number of memories and interesting stories about Compton from talking with him in Chicago. Glover Compton suffered a debilitating stroke in 1957, and finally succumbed in 1964 at age 80. We have only one piano rag - which may or may not actually be his (he claimed he wrote the music to Chris Smith's Honky-Tonky Monkey Rag) - and a handful of recordings to remember him by, but we also have great stories and his evident influence on some of his peers as part of the makeup of the collective of ragtime performance. Thanks to Adam Swanson who provided a couple of extra elements on Compton, and Australian historian Bill Egan who came up with more of his association with Ada Smith. Some of the narrative comes from They All Played Ragtime by Rudi Blesh and Harriet Janis, and from unpublished notes by Rudi Blesh, but the bulk was pieced together by the author from recordings and public and private archival records. | |||||||||||
Thomas R. Confare was born to carpenter John M. Confare and his British wife Rosetta R. (Each) Confare in Union (possibly Debuque), Iowa, just a short while after the Civil War had ended. He was the middle child of three, including his older sister Kate (1865) and younger brother John (1870). How much musical training Tom had while in school is uncertain. He was still in school as of 1880, but also working in a railroad office in Sabula, Iowa. George was now a wagon maker during a time of great expansion in the area. As of the 1885 Iowa Census he appears in the family business as a carpenter, just short of 18 years old. | ||||||||||
Cecil Duane Crabb, or "Cece" as some of his peers called him, was part of the Indianapolis group of young composer friends who contributed just a few but still significant pieces into the ragtime collective. He was the youngest of two sons born in Centerville, Indiana to James and Sarah E. Crabb. After several years of struggling to get by in Centerville, the family had moved westward to Indianapolis by 1900 where Cecil's older brother Earl, now 16, worked as a clerk in a phonograph store, and their father was a real estate agent. By the age of 18 he was evidently not living with his parents in Indianapolis. After a roller skating accident Cece was taken in for a time by Mr. E.D. Staley and his wife. The Staleys discovered in short order his propensity for both piano and graphic arts. In an effort to provide stability and a positive direction for Crabb, Mr. Staley set him up in a sign making shop, producing outdoor and on door signs for businesses. During this time he befriended May Aufderheide, fresh from finishing school, and quickly helped her to get her Dusty Rag into print, something she was trying to do over her father's objections. Another new acquaintance, composer Paul Pratt, arranged the piece and Cecil did the cover art. It was the only piece published by the Duane Crabb Publishing Company. Because of May's determination to have her work in print, her father, John Henry Aufderheide, admired the efforts of the teenaged trio to the point where he started J.H. Aufderheide & Company just to publish their works, and Cece was also rewarded for his efforts in helping her. |
Dabney was a naturally talented musician who was born and raised in Washington D.C. His parents were James Dabney, a black Virginia-born undertaker, and his mulatto wife Laura Dabney. He had one older brother, Edward, born in 1879. Tracing what happened to Laura Dabney in the 1890s is still in progress. However, James remarried to Ruby H. Dabney in 1895. Dabney had employed a servant as early as 1880, and the Dabneys owned their own home at 1132 Third Street NW as of 1900, which indicated that they were fairly well off for a black family of that time. James evidently also did some work as a barber, as some newspaper mentions referred to him as a "tonsorial artist." While in this country on a mission from his government Mr. Jefford heard Dabney play in New York, and was so impressed with the young pianist's work that he ventured the belief the President of Haiti would like to hear him play. Dabney expressed a desire to play for the President if it could be arranged, and his engagement for four months followed. At the expiration of that time young Dabney will go to France to play for President Loubet, and will then go to Germany to complete his musical studies. He contemplates a concert career. Ford Dabney is twenty years old and graduated from the Washington High School in the class of 1901. He is a son of J.W. Dabney, of 1006 F Street northwest, who was the late President McKinley's barber and President Roosevelt's until a few months ago. While attending school in Washington Ford Dabney studied music with Charles Donch, William Waldecker, and S.M. Fabian, the latter a noted concert pianist. Later the young man went to New York, where for the past year he has been a student at one of the conservatories. He has filled many drawing room engagements for the prominent society leaders of the metropolis. The Haitian consul, who is acting as sponsor for the young man, is said to have promised him $1,000 when he goes to France. Ford was shown returning from his extended travels to the United States through New York from St. Marc on the Prinz Friedrich Wilhelm on May 18, 1906. On his return to D.C. Ford traveled a bit in vaudeville, and even had an act titled Ford Dabney's Ginger Girls. He officially went into show business around 1909 as the co-owner of the Ford Dabney Theater located at Ninth and U Street in Northwest Washington. It was advertised as the home of "first class and polite vaudeville - the theatre the people attend." As motion pictures came into vogue Dabney made sure there was a new one shown every evening. Dabney's theater continued to operate in his name under the management of his partner James H. Hudnell through at least 1912, even after he was established in New York City. In the late summer of 1910 Dabney attempted to buy the nearby Howard Theater as well, but pulled back as he had "other big plans in view."Following this venture Dabney went to New York in 1910 to pursue a career in composition and performance. There is a likely probability that he engaged in an alternate career as well. In what is most certainly his listing in the 1910 Census, Dabney (as Thompson) is shown in Manhattan as a self-employed pharmacist. (The age, birth location and parent's birth locations match, so this fairly well confirms that it is indeed the same Ford Dabney.) It is possible that he learned this skill in technical school in DC or from one of his father's associates, and was applying it to earn some income until more music work started coming in. It is also more probable that the enumerator simply did not understand what was told to him. Dabney was still the proprietor of his theater in Washington, and added a second venue, The Red Moon on M Street, in 1911. He divided his time between the two cities until around 1914. As early as 1910 Dabney did well enough to publish a few interesting piano rags, starting with the popular Haytian Rag, and in including Oh You Devil and Oh You Angel. Haytian Rag in particular quickly found itself onto at least two different piano roll renditions before the year was out. However, he first gained real fame as a vaudeville performer and writer with his initial hit, a song he co-wrote with New York composer R.C. McPherson (aka Cecil Mack), That's Why They Call Me Shine. It was reportedly based on a real person they both knew who went by that nickname. This wildly popular song opened more doors for him and he was soon one of the elite of black New York musicians. Still living part-time in two cities, Ford returned to Washington for a time to marry widow Martha J. (Davis) (Gans) Dabney of Baltimore, Maryland, in March 1912. It was her second marriage following the death of her husband professional boxer Joseph Gans. Martha operated the Goldfield Hotel in Baltimore, and they resided there when Ford was in town. Joe built it with his winnings from a bout with Battling Nelson in Goldfield, Nevada. It was advertised that the Goldfield was equipped with every modern innovation, with exquisite furnishings and a telephone in every room. Martha continued to run the hotel while Ford bounced back and forth between the Washington/Baltimore area and Manhattan. Back in New York, Dabney quickly became friends with famed bandleader and composer James Reese Europe. They both played for famed showman Florenz Ziegfeld in his secondary show, Ziegfeld's Midnight Frolic, staged on the roof of the New Amsterdam Theater in Manhattan. Dabney was an integral member of Europe's famous Clef Club which was made up of only the finest black musicians in the east. A band for any occasion could quickly be formed from its formidable membership. It was, in fact, Dabney who introduced blues composer W.C. Handy to the Clef Club and Europe, with whom he became fast friends. Ford also formed his own organization when he permanently settled in the New York in 1913. By 1914, Europe had left the Clef Club to form The Tempo Club and Europe's Society Orchestra, and Dabney soon joined him. He had also been coordinating and working performances and benefits at Ford's Grand Opera House in Baltimore since 1912.Among the best of Dabney's pieces were a set of eight that were co-composed with Europe specifically for the famed husband and wife dance time of Vernon and Irene Castle. The Castles found Europe's Society Orchestra among the best they had worked with, and hired Europe as their band leader and Dabney as their arranger. One of these pieces, the Castle Half and Half, was written in 3/4+2/4, or actually 5/4 time, over four decades before that time signature would become popular through the efforts of Dave Brubeck and Paul Desmond. All of these were issued within a two month period in 1914, an extraordinary output for the quality of work the two invested into the project. Soon after this, Europe left the Tempo Club and Dabney took on some of his responsibilities until he formed his own orchestra, which was essentially from the remainders of The Tempo Club. In 1915 he released his final rag, actually a slow dance tune named The Georgia Grind. The grind in question and the music that accompanied it were not the same as the "dirty dancing" move of the 1950s, but a slow dance intended to give couples a bit of a rest while remaining on the dance floor. The tune had great success on piano rolls. Dabney's orchestra had the opportunity to introduce many great songs of the late 1910s to the world by way of records. This also made him one of the earliest black pianists to record. He is shown on his 1917 draft card as employed by Florenz Ziegfeld, presenter of the famed Ziegfeld Follies in the New Amsterdam Theater. His role was as both pianist, arranger and director for the The Ziegfeld Midnight Frolics, a position that lasted for eight years. Likely due to his workload, there appear to be no published compositions from this period. Martha Dabney gave up her hotel in early 1915 to move to New York City with Ford. She gave birth to Ford Dabney Jr. in mid 1917. Since Ford Jr. was born in Washington D.C., it indicates that he still had ties with his home town, as this may have occurred during a family visit to the area. From 1917 to early 1920, Dabney's Band cut a number of sides for the Aeolian Company's Vocalion line. The progression of dates indicates that Ford was not drafted to fight in the war like his former partner Jim Europe had been. The recordings show less inspiration and excitement than Reese's recordings of a couple of years prior, but they were still fine examples of late ragtime era dance band performances. They also recorded a few sides as the accompaniment band for white singers Arthur Fields and the inimitable Billy Murray. After one early 1920 session the band simply recorded no more, even as they continued to perform live. A regrouped ensemble called Ford Dabney's Syncopators did two sides in 1922.The Dabney family is shown in Manhattan in the 1920 Census with Ford listed as a theater musician. There are some indications that Dabney also dabbled in real-estate investment following the war as there are several transactions shown in the New York Times during the 1920s. In August 1921 he sold off two three-story dwellings at 231 and 235 West 138th Street. In May 1921 he purchased a large five-story flat at 75 West 128th Street, and in July, a three story dwelling at 163 West 131st Street. Yet another purchase was reported in December 1922, a five-story tenement building at 807 West 146th Street facing Colonial Park. Similar notices appear in New York real-estate transactions through the early 1930s. After the unfortunate death of his friend and musical partner Europe at the hands of one of Europe's own drummers in May of 1919, and that of Vernon Castle in a training plane accident in Texas, some of Dabney's arranging spark seemed to dissipate, as is demonstrated in subsequent recordings of his orchestra. Innovations that had existed in earlier tracks, including variances applied to repeated sections, all but disappeared from 1919 on. The demand for his band steadily waned through the mid 1920s as Ford did not embrace jazz with the same vigor as younger bandleaders. His perennial gig with Ziegfeld became less steady when the Dabney band was replaced by Art Hickman's Orchestra for the 1920-1921 season. Dabney was retained for some rooftop shows and special events, however. One example of the type of events the band played outside of their Ziegfeld show was an August 1922 fashion show held at the 71st Regiment Armory and Grand Central Palace. This was actually a fairly prestigious event as according to the New York Times of August 7, 1922, "Ford Dabney's orchestra from Ziefgeld's Follies will furnish continuous music, while a special arrangement has been made with Florenz Ziegfeld whereby Sergei Pirnikoff, heading a company of artists, will put on the Lestwich ballet 'Le Sacrifice.'" Still, it was a step removed from playing for the Society 400. Ford even briefly opened his own entertainment bureau in 1923, but other pressing demands made it difficult to maintain on a full time basis. Dabney remained in New York City until his death remaining mildly active with the music community from the 1930s on. In 1927 he contributed some music to the Broadway musical Rang-Tang, including the title tune, getting some notice in the New York papers for his efforts. Dabney appears in the 1930 Census with his family, still in Manhattan, as an orchestra musician. One of his steadier gigs was at the Palais Royale in Atlantic City during peak season times. Branching out a little bit, he co-wrote one song for the film The Social Register in 1934. Dabney was finally able to join ASCAP in 1937, more than two decades after it was founded. He and his orchestra wintered in Florida during the late 1930s, as there are several notices in the Palm Beach Daily News and some Miami papers concerning gigs and house parties from 1935 to 1939. Ford was still working in some capacity in the 1940s. The 1940 Census shows him still living on West 139th Street in North Harlem with Martha and his son, working as an orchestra musician. His 1942 draft record indicates him simply as self-employed, living at the same address seen previously. By this time, his memory and musical skills were occasionally called upon by historians. He was a consultant for the 1943 all-black film Stormy Weather which chronicled black musicians of New York, including his contemporaries Europe and Handy, through the first decades of the 20th century. That same year, Ford Dabney Jr. enlisted into the military, his record showing that he had achieved a degree from a four-year college (NYU). The aging musician and composer finally retired fully by the late 1940s. Ford Dabney passed away at Sydenham Hospital at 75 in New York City in 1958 after a long illness. Martha Dabney died in December 1961 at the Rest Haven Nursing Home in the Bronx. | ||||||||||
Charles Neil Daniels, born in Leavenworth, Kansas, to jeweler Alfred E. Daniels and Agnes E. Daniels. He was one of two surviving children of the couple, including Bessie (8/1884). Another sister, Mamie (1879), died during childhood. Charles actually spent most of his youth in St. Joseph, Missouri, and the family was found there by the time of the 1880 Census. That record shows Charles as three-years-old, so there is a possibility he was born in 1877.
Alfred moved the family to Kansas City, Missouri when Charles was 15, and entered the lucrative field of real-estate. There his son studied a panoply of musical disciplines, including piano, music theory, and musical calligraphy (a viable skill for prospective typesetters and arrangers). Charles also studied harmony and theory with Carl Preyer in Kansas City. Among his first positions were various gigs as a pianist in department stores, an accompanist at the Kronberg Concert Company, and demonstrator for the Carl Hoffman publishing house, which gave him his first break. They also published one of his first works, Imperial Courier Two-Step.It was while working for Hoffman, in response to a competition, that Daniels composed his second published piece, a two-step called Margery. It won the $25 prize, and soon the attention of no less than bandleader John Philip Sousa, who put it in his repertoire and created a quick demand for it. Even though sales for Margery were brisk, going as high as 275,000 within a few years, Daniels saw nothing of it since the prize money also constituted ownership of the piece by Hoffman. Pressing onward, Charles composed the music for an even bigger hit the following year, You Tell Me Your Dream, I'll Tell You Mine, which soon became a standard in the American Song Book, but also caused a further rift with Hoffman who refused to offer royalties on this piece as well. In December 1898 Daniels utilized his position to help another young composer, Scott Joplin, and arranged to have a rag of his published, the first one of many for Joplin. Titled Original Rags, the cover cites that it was "arranged" by Daniels. However, according to family history passed down to from his son to Charles' grand niece, the late Nan Bostick, Daniels did nothing more to the piece than help transcribe and typeset it directly from Joplin's performance of it, and apply his newly-famous name to it to help with sales in markets where he was known. Original Rags would be eclipsed by Maple Leaf Rag in short order, but it remained in print with Daniel's name on the cover for many years. Bolstered with confidence, Charles next turned to writing an opera. In reality, it was a burlesque opera for a fireman's benefit, composed with St. Clair Hurd. It turned into an ambitious affair, complete with large choruses and the burning of a local building. The pending event was noted in the Kansas City Journal of November 9, 1899: A burlesque entertainment will be given for the benefit of the firemen's Paris fund at Convention hall December 13 and 14. Last night at Music hall the first steps were taken to incorporate the company that will furnish the entertainment. A full chorus of bass and tenor singers was secured together with a number of minor performers in an opera written by Charles N. Daniels and St. Clair Hurd...The opera, which will really be a burlesque on an opera, to be presented has been prepared by Charles N. Daniels and St. Clair Hurd, and will picture a scene in Madrid and representing the victorious Kansas City firemen returning from Paris, where they had won many prizes... Two days later in the November 11, 1899 edition, and years before the celebrated Nordstrom Department Store started using pianists for atmosphere, there was an advertisement stating that "Mr. Charles N. Daniels is entertaining our [Doggett Dry Goods Company] customers in the Music Department. Be sure and hear him play 'The Bands of the Nation' march. Mr. Daniels uses the celebrated Crown piano." He was, of course, actually filling the role of a musical schiller and not so much of an entertainer. Music departments with song demonstrators were just starting to come into their own in many Midwest department stores. Daniels would not remain in this mode for long, however.
It may have been from the experience with Original Rags, plus the music scene in Kansas City, that Daniels caught the ragtime bug to some extent. Dissatisfied with the treatment he received from Hoffman, Charles formed the Western Music Publishing Company to release the tune on his own. This later became Daniels & Russell when another Hoffman refugee, Albert Russell, threw his hat in with Daniels. The 1900 Census shows Charles living with his parents and sister in Kansas City, Missouri, and listed as a music publisher. Charles and Albert headed for St. Louis around 1901 in anticipation of the coming Lewis and Clark Exposition/World's Fair, and reformed as Daniels, Russell & Boone with offices in the Benoist Building in that city, also working as music demonstrators at the Barr Dry Goods Company. It was in late 1901 that by happenstance Daniels inadvertently created a new sub-genre of popular music. On a trip from Kansas City to Hiawatha, Kansas, he focused on the rhythm of the train wheels against the track joints, and came up with an intermezzo melody that he named after the destination, which itself was named for the Native American hero from the famous Longfellow poem Hiawatha. Originally subtitled A Summer Idyl (tone poem), this was also picked up by the Sousa, now his friend. Sousa's exposure of the piece resulted in a sale of his catalog to Jerome H. Remick for the extraordinary sum of $10,000, just so Remick could obtain Hiawatha, such was the public's response to it.
One of the ironies is that Daniels brought Hiawatha out using a pseudonym, Neil Morét, which was derived in part from his middle name. Given the exposure of that name through his early hits, Daniels ended up using it more than his own name throughout his career, more so than any of his contemporaries who also used pseudonyms. He also used L'Albert on a few pieces, and infrequently attributed his own lyrics to Sidney Carter for variety. Charles followed Hiawatha in 1905 with an intentional Indian intermezzo and song titled Silverheels. He also started composing a number of Mexican or Spanish-tinged pieces, forecasting another craze among composers and the musical consumer. One of his mood intermezzos, Moonlight, was so appealing to Remick that he bought it from Charlie's firm for $20,000, double what was paid for Hiawatha and the earlier catalog. Under his own name he had the privilege of contributing the only "official" music composition of the 1904 St. Louis Louis and Clark Exhibition, a march titled A Deed of the Pen, which referred to the signing of the Louisiana Purchase in 1803. Daniels traveled for Remick for some time, setting up music departments in stores around the East. While many towns had their own music shops, department stores in particular prided themselves on having a music department with a piaist demonstrator. Daniels took that one step further using new technology. One such description of his methods was found in the Music Trade Review of October 29, 1904: "The new music department inaugurated by the R. H. White Co., Boston, Mass., is under the management of Charles N. Daniels (Neil Moret) the composer of 'Hiawatha,' 'Moonlight' and the new song, 'Poppies.' Mr. Daniels has inaugurated many ideas of his own for the display of sheet music and is using the phonograph as an effective demonstrator." While people like Daniels "managed" these departments, it was usually on a rotating long-distance basis, making sure that the products for his company were properly represented through occasional visits or other supervision. In 1904, it was announced that: "Albert H. Russell, of Detroit, has assigned all his interest in the music firm of Daniels & Russell, Wetherbee building, to his partner, Charles N. Daniels, and the latter has assigned it to Shapiro, Remick & Co., including all copyright music, plates and manuscript." It was not a permanent exit from the publishing business by any means. He had his eye elsewhere. In late 1904 Charles met Pearl Hamlin of St. Louis, Missouri, and they were soon engaged. Their friends turned out to be very surprised when Pearl went to visit Charles in Louisville, Kentucky in January 1906 and came back as his wife. While working in Detroit in 1906 for Remick and Whitney Warner, and still writing for his own firm as well under the pseudonym of L'Albert (as in partner Albert Russell), Charlie opened a subsidiary shop in the old Barr's firm, now the Grand Leader Department Store, where future composer Irene Giblin worked as a demonstrator. Daniels acquired Dill Pickles from Hoffman, a rag composed by his friend Charles L. Johnson. It has been stated that the two Charlies may have extended the ragtime craze by as much as a decade with this single tune, because Johnson set a standard for easy to play rags that appealed to the average pianist, and Daniels promoted it well in markets nationwide, which included getting it played and recorded by many bands. His efforts helped make Remick one of the largest publishers of both piano rags and popular ragtime songs, and Daniels was perhaps as much a proponent of piano rags as classic ragtime magnate John Stark, one of it's biggest champions.Two other pieces he picked up from Hoffman included Johnson's Iola, again named for a town in Kansas and not a particular Indian (although O'Dea also added lyrics to this one as well), and Peaceful Henry by Hoffman arranger E. Harry Kelly. These made plenty for Remick and their composers, but not so much for Hoffman, who may have been regretting his earlier fiscal treatment of Daniels by this time. It probably didn't help that the Kansas City branch of Daniels' company settled in right next door to Hoffman's office! While promoting ragtime heavily during this period, Charles wrote very few of his own pieces that were touted as rags, rather releasing them as intermezzos or similar genre titles. He was also concentrating on the more lucrative song business, eventually hooking up with lyricist Earle C. Jones who helped create even more best-sellers for Daniels, or more properly, Morét. Charles' enthusiasm for making good music and the benefits that could be had from interpolation into popular music forms was made clear in an October 1910 article in The Music Trade Review: Mr. Daniels is convinced that the popular taste is improving. Some of the means by which this desired end is being achieved may be such as to make the musically judicious grieve, but are none the less effective, he declares. '"The popular songs introducing strains of classical compositions are actually having the effect of creating the desire to know more of the music suggested," said he. "Thousands of people know the Mendelssohn 'Spring Song' to-day who had never heard it or heard of it before. Last year our house published 'That Loving Melody Rubinstein Wrote,' and I know it to be a fact that Rubinstein's 'Melody in F' came into great demand in Detroit as a consequence. People went into the music stores and asked what the 'Loving Melody' was and bought it. Of course, this is one factor working toward the creation of a taste for gcod music. Why, the other day in Detroit a vaudeville singer won tremendous applause from the gallery with an aria from 'Rigoletto.' Now, all this means that the people want good music. It doesn't mean that there will soon be no market except for the productions of long-dead composers, but it does mean a gradual raising of the standard all along the line."
By late 1913, his primary lyricist partner, Earle Jones, had died at 35 of typhoid. Charles' young daughter had long been suffering from diabetes (misdiagnosed as lung disease), and hoping to save her life he gave up his position with Remick and relocated to a climate that was recommended as more conducive to her health, that of the desert around San Bernardino, California. Sadly, his daughter died of her ailment in 1915. However, by this time, he had started again on his own as a publisher, first founding his own self-named firm, then partnering with a younger graduate of Stanford University, Weston Wilson, to form Daniels & Wilson.
Daniels also imported lyricist Harry William from Remick, and they continued to turn out hits in California. His reputation got him a turn at composing a title tune for a 1918 Mack Sennett film starring one of Hollywood's more popular actresses, Mabel Normand. Mickey worked well as a two-way promotion for both the film and the song, garnering Daniels and Williams a good-sized wartime hit. Many historians consider it the earliest popular song directly associated with a film title, and it did very well after being picked up by Waterson, Snyder and Berlin in New York. The following year Daniels and Williams turned out another nationwide hit, Peggy. However, the lucky streak was not to last. His young partner Wilson joined the military for the war, never to return to the firm but later to get into the oil business, which left Charles to run the company by himself. Then in 1922 Harry Williams died while visiting Daniels, sadly ending another successful partnership.Daniels regrouped after these tragedies and worked for a time as a west-coast arranger for Waterson, Snyder and Berlin, but after getting back on his feet he founded the San Francisco firm of Villa Morét (House of Morét) in 1924. Now living across the Bay in Oakland, he partnered with bandleader Ben Black to compose one of Villa Morét's first issues. Adorned by a beautiful cover, it was a fox-trot version of organist Edwin Lemare's andantino Moonlight and Roses, which became a dance band hit in short order. This was the beginning of several years of big hits turned out by the successful firm, including some penned with now-famous lyricists Richard Whiting and Gus Kahn. The most famous of these pieces by Morét and Kahn was Chlo-E - Song of the Swamp of 1927, which featured a plaintive cry to the titled lady. Some will remember the famous parody of this work in the late 1940s by Spike Jones and his City Slickers, but it received serious attention at this time, and put him once again on a par with many contemporary East Coast composers like Duke Ellington. In 1928, with Richard Whiting, he turned out She's Funny That Way, which later became an early theme for crooner Frank Sinatra. By 1926 Villa Morét had an office at 1596 Broadway in New York City, and Daniels became a bi-coastal traveler between the two bases. Offices in ten other cities were opened by the end of the year, giving Daniels an excellent distribution and acquisition network. Trends were changing in 1929 in advance of the Great Depression, and Daniels saw these coming. Many of the publishers were being bought up by film companies now looking for material for sound movies. Also, sheet music was losing its luster in light of phonograph records, talking pictures, and radio, all of which required little effort on the part of the listener to enjoy. Daniels moved to Los Angeles, but could not convince the company, of which he was president but not owner, to move their operations to Hollywood. Charles, his wife, daughter and mother-in-law are found in the Shelton Apartments in the heart of Hollywood, three blocks from Hollywood and Vine, for the 1930 Census, with Charles listed as a musician and composer/publisher. He wrote a few pieces as Jules LeMare while trying to legally separate from Villa Morét publications, and spent the 1930s working with younger lyricists, primarily for publisher Jack Robbins, who was associated with the MGM Studio. Many of these credited bandleader Gus Arnheim as co-composer, a courtesy title for the leader who introduced the pieces - including the big hit Sweet and Lovely - on his radio show, a common practice in the 1920s and 1930s. That courtesy also included 33% of the royalties. Charles composed up until a few years before his death. In mid 1942 he was diagnosed with a kidney ailment, and after eight months succumbed to it in Los Angeles at age 64. One final song was released just after his death. While Daniels is less remembered under his own name, Daniels had a fairly substantial role in both the style and the spread of music in the early 20th century, working from outside of Tin Pan Alley, and yet contributing to it in a big way. This includes ragtime music, early popular song, and well beyond. I would like to add a personal note of thanks to my friend and ragtime performer Nan Bostick who was responsible for much of this research on her great uncle, as well as historian Phil Stewart whose research on Charles L. Johnson had useful cross references on Daniels. Nan sadly left us on March 26, 2012, and will be sorely missed. Much of the information here was retrieved from public records, trade perodicals, newspapers and other period publications.
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Homer H. Denney was part of the group of Ohio Valley composers that produced compositions steeped with folk heritage. He would consider himself as much a river man as a musician right to the end, and history spans both ragtime and the last sement of the riverboat era in Ohio. Homer was born in Gallipolis, Ohio, on the border with West Virginia, to Zachariah Denney and Emma (Pauley) Denney.
He also had a brother, Raymond Denney, born in January 1887.Zachariah was listed as a house painter in 1900 and 1910. He was one of ten children of respected Gallipolis butcher and volunteer fireman Zachariah Denney Sr. and Mary M. (Cavin) Denney, residents of Ohio since the early 19th century. By 1900 the family had moved to Cincinnati, where Homer would spend most of his life. According to his family, one of his passions became bicycle racing, and he won several races over the years. But the two most enduring interests that would permeate his life were music and boats. That he was able to combine these was a true blessing. As a child Homer took piano lessons and played for dances and parties. In the 1900 Census, at age 14, he was listed as a messenger. The lad had a fascination with the calliope and wanted very much to be given an opportunity to play one to prove himself. That opportunity presented itself when the player on the original paddlewheel steamer Island Queen fell ill in 1901. He did well on his first outing for a 16-year-old, and when the other player died shortly thereafter, he was offered the position. The first verified fix on Denney as a musician is in 1905 when he self-published his first rag, No-Ze, in Cincinnati. By this time he was already making a name for himself as a calliope player on the Ohio River. His next piece, Coney Island Girl, refers to the Coney Island in the river at Cincinnati, which has had a long history of amusement parks and recreation since the late 19th century. The boat he spent most of his life working for during its first and second incarnations was the Island Queen. Built on the frame of the former Saint Joseph, the first Island Queen was launched in 1896, and improved in 1905. It held as many as 3,000 passengers, usually in service from the city to the amusement island, but sometimes for special excursions as far south as New Orleans during Mardi Gras. As a result of his employment on the ship, many of Denney's pieces were fairly simple yet innovative, making the best possible use of the limited yet demanding calliope keyboard. He also played piano on the ship in the interior dining area. His next composition, Water Queen was likely dedicated to the Island Queen. Homer was married around 1905 to Bertha Kraft, and late in 1908 their daughter June D. Denney was born. One other child had not survived infancy. By 1907 he was starting to make somewhat of a name for himself on the river. That same year, one of Homer's more notable rags, Hot Cabbage, was self-published. He followed this up with the popular Cheese and Crackers.
Denney did not meet the same success with his next two rags, Monograms and Ham Bones as he had with Chimes. He also co-wrote an ethnic Jewish piece with comedian Ben Rafalo, but it had a limited shelf life. Ironically, one of the pieces most associated with him was Caliope Rag, actually composed by brothers Sylvester and Charles Hartlaub. Homer was known for his nightly performances of this popular piece, and its wide distribution helped make him somewhat famous. Another such piece was The Queen Rag by Floyd Willis. In an article written later in his life, he clearly explained that it took more than musical acumen to play his chosen instrument. "A steam calliope is very hard to play. It takes strength to press the keys down. A calliope is a set of thirty-two [sometimes more] whistles tuned to a definte pitch. The ranges is from 'C' to 'F', a little over two octaves. There are 200 pounds of steam coming up through the valve which makes eight pounds of pressure on each note. Every finger has to push down eight pounds of steam to make a sound, and to keep the note on pitch the finger has to hold down the note with that eight pounds of steam pressure, otherwise it will be off pitch when even slightly released. Everyone cannot sustain notes against the steam pressure which accounts for its sound out of tune. I had strong fingers and it was not hard for me." The Island Queen was a well-known ship, running between Cincinnati and Coney Island, with various entertainers on board, but Denney reportedly being the star. Given the sheer decibel volume of a typically steam calliope, he was hard to avoid in any event. The ship carried some 4,000 passengers at a time, and was covered with around 7,000 electric lights. For longer excursions there was a 20,000 square foot dance floor, for which Denney often led the ship's dance orchestra. Homer continued to work on it for some time, and in an additional capacity in 1914 as the tuner of new steam calliopes built at the Thomas J. Nichol factory,
By 1917 Denney had long since ceased composing, and his frequency on the ship is uncertain. He was instead primarily employed at the Universal Car Company as an inspector and motor tester, as listed on his draft record, and shows the same position as of the 1920 Census. On April 27, 1922, the roof and some of the decks collapsed on the Island Queen, putting it out of commission for a few months. After it was repaired, on November 4, 1922 the Island Queen burned along with other ships at the Cincinnati docks. As it turns out, the backup employment option was a good plan for the Denney family. During the gap and well beyond, Denney continued to play a Tangley air pressure calliope in the Shrine Circus, being an active member of the Shriners. In the interim the G.W. Hill was pressed into service, and Denney managed to get some work on it until the new ship was ready. He also kept busy with his own small orchestra that played both in town and later on the replacement sidewheeler. The new oil powered steamer Island Queen built on a steel hull was launched in 1925, and with it, a resurrection of Denney's career as a dedicated calliope player. He was able to salvage the original calliope after the fire 1922, as it had miraculously stayed above the water line. Homer rebuilt it so it could be sold to the new ship. His newly resurrected instrument was made on a substantial iron frame, and the echoes of nostalgia for riverboats made them popular again, in part due to Edna Furber's novel Showboat, soon to become a Jerome Kern stage musical. Denney rode this wave for many more years, right on through the Great Depression. The 1930 Census lists him as a musician on the ship. As of the late 1930s he was an employee of the waterworks for City of Norwood where the family had moved years before. Around that same time, after a bout with pneumonia, doctors had advised him to move out west to boost his survival chances. Denney responded by staying in Ohio, but taking a hiatus from the ship, and he took up farming for a while. He bought his own tractor and used it not only to work his farm properties, but by the early 1940s was also keeping the weeds and grass in check around Norwood. The 1940 Census lists him as an autombile inspector for the safety check lane for the county. Having obviously recovered from his illness, he continued to play on the Island Queen literally through the last gasp of its second life. Homer also built his own small boats and even a houseboat which he often resided in between trips on the Island Queen. Many steamships during World War II had been retrofitted and repainted for military transport and war related purposes. After the war they were taken to the ship yards in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, for repainting and refitting back into their civilian functions. The Island Queen was moored at Pittsburgh on September 8, 1947, when a welder's torch set off fumes from a fuel tank, causing a major explosion. The crew and a number of passengers had come up to Pittsburgh where the work was being done, including Denney, and most of them had left the ship to go into town. Denney had literally just walked off the ship with his camera when the explosion occurred, and ended up taking most of the only photographs of his beloved second home on the water going up in flames, along with 19 remaining crew members. All that was left of his beloved calliope was the steel frame and four brass keys. Homer returned to Cincinnati in a pair of borrowed overalls, as all of his belongings, except his camera, had been destroyed. Having no instrument to play on, he was forced into retirement from his riverboat days.
In his following years Homer played his custom Tangley Calliope in parades, and electric organs in other venues. In fact, he had not played an organ before, but secured a gig only two weeks after purchasing a portable electric model. Among his regular organ haunts were the Cincinnati Gardens, home of many sporting events, and the Palace Gardens Skating Rink which had a very unique grand organ. He continued to supervise his farm properties and even dabbled in real estate. Still, Denney was ready at any time to lend his musical talents, often gratis, to the city of Cincinnati for parades, Shriners events, and even the Cincinnati Reds baseball team at Crosley Field starting in 1952. Homer said he enjoyed that venue the most since it was a place where he could "turn loose the volume, because the louder I play the better it sounds." He also took an interest in crank street organs (the type often associated with monkey grinders), not only restoring them but also creating rolls for them by hand. Denney did own one large instrument, a Wurlitzer 105. He wrote about his time on the river, and helped to leave a legacy about the golden days of steamships on the Ohio and the Mississippi. Denney was a guest at the first St. Louis Ragtime Festival in the 1960s, according to coordinator Trebor Tichenor and performers Mike Montgomery and John Arpin, but he did not play, perhaps due to his hearing issues. It has been said that he never talked about the rags he had composed in earlier years. When his wife passed on in the late 1960s, Homer lived with his daughter June (Rotunno) in Madeira, Ohio. His last known gig was in 1971 when the Coney Island amusement park in Cincinnati was closed. In his last few months in 1975 he lived in the Ohio Masonic Home in Springfield. Homer Denney left us in September of that year, just as a new generation of ragtime fans started discovering some of the great folk rags of the ragtime era, including those of the well-known calliopist. Thanks go to remaining members of the Denney family, including his granddaughter Judy Carr, who willingly provided a great deal of background information on the composer. This allowed the author to finally pinpoint his evasive and clearly misspelled 1900 Census entry. Also to performer and historian Fred Hoeptner who provided some additional information on Denney through a back issue of the Rag Times. More can be found on Denney and the Island Queen at the comprehensive www.steamboats.org. A fine series of pictures of the ship and its travails is available online from the Cincinnati Libray at wiki.cincinnatilibrary.org/index.php/Island_Queen. Also, thanks to Jeremy Stevenson who uncovered the rare Sammy's Wigglin' Dance. | |||||||||
Will Donaldson had a hand in the start of a career of one of the great American composers, but in the end did not do too badly for himself either. Born in New York to hotel keeper John H. Donaldson and his wife Rose T. Donaldson, Will was the youngest of their three surviving children out of five. He had two older sisters, Beatrice (6/1879) and Agnes (2/1883). An older brother, Edward (10/1880), died in his early twenties. By the time of the 1900 Census, John had become a shipping clerk, a position he would remain in for the rest of his life. Will's early musical training went beyond normal New York School System classes, as he attended the Pratt Institute, and was a part of the recently formed Art Students League. Thanks go to New Zealand piano roll historian Robert Perry who contributed information on Donaldson's involvement with Rythmodik | ||||||||||
Known in his youth as "The Boy Paderewski", Willie Eckstein would never let up from his enormous drive and amazing abilities, becoming Eastern Canada's premier pianist even before the death of fellow musician Jean-Baptiste Lafrenière in 1912. Short only in height, but not in talent, Willie's path was evident before he was even in school. He was the youngest of what was reportedly fourteen children (only nine were confirmed) born to Swedish immigrant George Hugo Eckstein (shows as Eckstine in 1881) and his German wife Wilhelmina (Hidebrandt) Eckstein in Pointe St. Charles, a mostly Irish district of Montréal, Quebec, where they were shown in the 1891 Census. His musically trained parents had come original from Sweden to New York City, then Hamilton, Ontario, and had moved to Montréal just a year before Willie's birth. Among his siblings were August (1872), George Hugo Jr. (1874), Wilhelmina (Mina) (1876), Henry (1878), Emily (1880 - died in childhood), Augusta Bianca (1882), Clara Henrietta (1883), John Ion Adolphe [or Jack] (1886) who would also enjoy a somewhat successful musical career. William was baptised in early December 1889 along with many of his siblings at the Presbytarian Church of Saint Mathew in Pointe St. Charles.
Willie must have known where his heart was early on, because it is said his first demonstration at the piano was at age three, when he plucked out the melody of Home Sweet Home just after a visitor had played the same piece a day before. Obviously the Ecksteins knew from their own musical passions that they should have the toddler trained to make the best use of his inherent abilities. The earliest lessons may have been given at home, but it was clear that a career teacher was necessary to handle the child prodigy. At some point in the mid 1890s the family moved to the Hochelaga area of Montréal where they were shown in the 1901 Census. George is listed as a furrier, George Jr. as a bookkeeper, Mina as a machine operator, Clara worked in a paper box factory, and John, only 15, was already a clerk. Eventually Willie was put under the tutelage of music teacher Moretzky Upton of McGill University, along with assorted other instructors who taught him piano, theory and harmony. He studied constantly from late 1894 to around 1900. One issue that Eckstein had to overcome was a paralyzed finger, which was either a birth defect or became disabled at a very early age. Another was his diminutive size and therefore slightly smaller hands. As an adult he came in at only 4'10" (reports vary, but that is the average height), shorter even than famed American pianists Eubie Blake and Charles "Luckey" Roberts. It seems in the end that neither problem held him back, and perhaps encouraged him to achieve more. During these years Willie also worked to earn money for his training, dressed up to attract attention while playing at a store near his home. Billed as the "Swedish Boy Wonder," he was employed by the Bell Piano Company as a salesman for two years running at the Canadian National Exhibition. Around 1900 the boy prodigy was offered a scholarship in music to attend a local conservatory (McGill Conservatory has been cited, but it was likely McGill University as the Conservatory did not open until 1904). He achieved this goal by memorizing 47 pages of Mendelssohn's Concerto in D Minor. But the money was not enough to address the concerns of his large family and keep him in school. He was heard by someone who was in effect a talent scout while playing in Montréal and offered a job playing in New York City for a time.It is said he was performing in a storefront in New York when he was heard by yet another agent and quickly offered a $15,000 per year contract on the Keith/Albee, Proctor and Orpheum vaudeville circuits. Hoping to have obtained regular recitals for his living instead, Willie knew how much his family needed the funds, so reluctantly accepted with his father's prompting. Eckstein was billed as the "Boy Paderewski" and was routinely dressed in little boy's clothing, taking advantage of his diminutive height to make him appear much younger than his actual age. The great Paderewski came to see him as well, fully approving of the use of his name in regards to the talents of the amazing youth. Willie toured most of the population centers of the United States and Canada from coast to coast during his vaudeville tenure. While performing in Washington D.C. in 1905, he was offered a performance at the White House for President Theodore Roosevelt. He was often billed over other well known stars on the same program, including Harry Houdini and the husband and wife team of Nora Bayes and Jack Norworth. Around 1905 (some sources cite 1901, so this is uncertain) Willie traveled to hie parent's home country of Sweden, where he spent time there and in Germany receiving musical training while earning money performing, even giving a royal command performance along the way. Eckstein was on his way to the top, or so it seemed. Nature can't be stopped, and neither could the onset of puberty. Willie's voice deepened and his facial hair growth accelerated to the point where he reportedly needed to shave twice daily in order to maintain the illusion of being a pre-teen. Suspicions grew, and eventually bookings started to diminish as he seemed more adult and less child-like. At the end of one of the tours Eckstein was back in New York City struggling to make ends meet while playing in storefronts and restaurants. So in late 1906 the 18-year-old boy wonder returned to Montréal to find steady work. This he did at the Lyric Music Hall on St. Catherine Street, similar to many of the vaudeville venues he had been through over the last several years. He spent much of the next six years there, evolving from a theater accompanist for live singers to an accompanist for actors on screen. It was said he was among the first accompanists for a teen-aged Beatrice Lillie who graced the stage there. It was also where he was working when he composed and published his first compositions in 1910, including his first piano rag, Some Rag: A Real Live One. He is shown living in St. Jacques, Montréal, still with his family in the 1911 Census, and listed as a musician. By 1910 films started to draw audiences more so than live performers. So progress came to downtown Montréal in 1912 when the 1,000 seat Strand Theater, intended primarily for movie exhibition, was opened by George Ganetakos. Willie was offered a job there even as the theater was under construction and he was still plugging away at the Lyric. From opening day on it was evident that the former child prodigy had a gift for fitting the proper musical settings to otherwise silent films,
During his 18 year tenure at the Strand, Willie enjoyed great celebrity not only in Montréal but far outside of it as well. In his compositions and publicity he used many variations on his name, including Billy and Billie, and occasionally Wm. for William, but the theater publicity machine further dubbed "Mr. Fingers," and ultimately "The World's Foremost Motion Picture Interpreter," a claim that was likely very valid. In fact, it has been said that many who attended the Strand, including a bevy of musicians, paid more attention to Eckstein's varied scores for the film than they did to what was on the large screen. Among the notables who expressed amazement at the big sound coming from the little guy were Eubie Blake, Joseph Hoffman, Vladimir de Pachmann, and even the brilliant pianist and composer Sergei Rachmaninoff who reportedly expressed utter amazement at what he was hearing, stating "I don't believe it." For many years he worked with percussionist Armand Meerte, who provided both rhythm and some of the sound effects. One future starlet of note, Miss Norma Shearer, remembered attending matinees instead of high school in order to hear Willie play his own composition Beautiful Thoughts and other favorites. And while the stars of the pictures got their names on the marquee, Eckstein had a two-story wall all to himself with a painting depicting him at his craft. Willie started putting more of his own works into print after a few years at the Strand, and even took on at least one young protégé during his tenure, someone who could fill in when the maestro wasn't around. He was Reginald Thomas Broughton, a British import, whot would soon take on the stage name of Harry Thomas. Harry had enough of a foundation as a performer to go to Chicago in 1916 and record two of their as yet unpublished collaborations, Delirious Rag and Perpetual Rag, to piano roll for QRS. He later went to New York City to record Delirious Rag and his own Classical Spasm for Victor, making him the first Canadian musician to record ragtime piano. In spite of their sometimes difficult but fruitful time together, Thomas ended up with little traction in the performance world beyond the mid 1920s, and tragically died from the ravages of alcoholism in 1941. But he did help to spread Willie's name further into the United States. One other young British protégé, Miss Vera Guillarof, would have much more success as his substitute and later as a replacement for Thomas. She would occasionally work with Eckstein on the radio, and in nightclubs in later years. Willie continued to write, often providing lyrics for somebody else's tune, and working as his own lyricist as well. His command of most music forms was impressive, but his ragtime skills were stellar, in part because of the types of music that ragtime was culled from. However, even before the term was coined, Eckstein was adding tricks to his playing which equated to the genre of "Novelty Ragtime," something that would become very much in vogue by the 1920s. But in doing so his improvisation was more or less laid out rather than spur of the moment, which kept him perhaps an arms length from being a full-fledged jazz musician, even though he would embrace and play jazz well once it made the rounds in Quebec. During the First World War he collaborated on a couple of patriotic numbers. Due to his height he was excluded from serving in the Canadian Armed Forces, even though he did try to enlist. So he fought by playing at rallies to help sell war bonds. In 1919 Eckstein was teamed up for a one-shot song with American composer/artist Gene Buck. Goodbye Sunshine, Hello Moon was featured in the Ziegfeld Follies of that year as well as comedian Ed Wynn's Carnival, providing him with something of a hit. In the end, however, the demand for his tunes on Broadway never panned out. But it was also the same year he was first heard on radio station XWA (later CFCF), accompanying singer Gus Hill and playing some on his own, making him the first Canadian to play ragtime piano over the air, and history records that it was likely the first live broadcast ever in North America.The next step starting around 1919 was to get Willie's playing archived on recordings. His first forays onto record were as part of the Strand Trio with his brother Jack on the violin and Armand Meerte (or so it seems likely) on the xylophone. These were released on the Canadian subsidiary of HMV (His Master's Voice) records, the British equivalent of the Victor label. Jack would also start his own jazz band, the first in Montréal, which often featured Willie at the piano both on records and for occasional live performances. Willie also recorded (often as Billy Eckstein) with the Melody Kings, of which another song collaborator, Billy Munro, was a member. They were more of an improvisational "hot jazz" group than Jack's band. Most of the tunes were covers of current popular jazz hits. In 1923, Herbert Berliner, son of the pioneer phonograph inventor Emile Berliner, started the Compo company in Canada, being one of the first to use the electronic recording process in North America, a clear advantage over the acoustic horn recording that had been common at the time. Willie did his first solo recordings for Compo, choosing Scott Joplin's Maple Leaf Rag for his first cut. While it is not the first known recording of the piece, it is the oldest surviving acoustic recording of the well known rag. These early records saw good distribution on the Okeh, Apex and Starr labels of Compo in North America. Another notable recording done that same year was his A Musical Massacre, a ragtime take on Frederic Chopin's Revolutionary Etude. It would not be in print until the late 1990s when Canadian pianist Mimi Blais, one of the only other performers of the piece who could fully capture Eckstein's ferocity and whimsy, would supervise its publication. Willie would be very supportive of Berliner over the next several years, sometimes recording as Vi Palmer. He would later also record for the Victor label from around 1929-1932. But after almost two decades as one of the biggest celebrities in Eastern Canada, Willie Eckstein was upstaged by no less than one of the top celebrities of the United States, Al Jolson. The arrival of The Jazz Singer signaled an obvious end to movies without sound, meaning movies that would no longer need accompaniment. When The Strand finally made the latent conversion in 1930 (most Montréal theaters had already been fitted for sound) there were very few movies coming in that required Eckstein's soundtrack. So he finally left the lucrative position and struck out for new venues. It didn't take the popular pianist long to find new spots. Given how popular Canada had become over the previous decade for those south of the border who were suffering through a national prohibition, Toronto and Montréal were definitely hotspots for visitors looking for the nightlife and the alcohol that went with it. "Mr. Fingers" found work in The Clover Cafe and the Lido Club. However, once he reached the Château Ste. Rose in Laval, a northern suburb of Montréal, he found his new home. Along with pianist Robert Langlois, who he often played duets with, and Langlois' house orchestra, Willie started a two decade and more stint at the club. He also did regular performance with occasional radio and early television appearances during this time. He often performed broadcasts with Vera Guillarof, billed together as The Piano Ramblers. Willie continued to compose as well, writing To the King and Queen in honor of a 1939 visit from the residents of Buckingham Palace, who in turn sent him letters of appreciation.As with World Was One, the Second World War was not a place for short soldiers. But Willie still did his bit for King and country, writing more patriotic tunes and performing to raise bond money, once even taking to the streets on the back of a flatbed truck. Remaining ever popular through the end of the decade, Eckstein started slowing down a bit as the 1950s approached. Still, he was able to reunite with Beatrice Lillie as her accompanist once again in a 1954 show honoring the singer. He also scored again with royalty in 1959 with Queen of Canada, composed for a visit by Queen Elizabeth II to open the St. Lawrence Seaway. But years of performance and moderate drinking took their toll, and before the decade was out, Eckstein had difficulty performing due to the pain of arthritis. He finally had to retire from even occasional performance in his early seventies after he broke an arm. Willie Eckstein was not forgotten by his legions of fans and countrymen. On May 27th, 1963, a special Eckstein Night was held for the 74-year-old entertainer at His Majesty's Theater in Montréal. Unable to perform, he simply enjoyed the tribute and accepted an award, saying that the whole experience had given him the will to recover from his ailments to make a comeback. "I'll be back with bells on." Sadly, the bells never rang. The strain of the evening may have contributed to a major stroke the pianist suffered hours after the tribute. Eckstein reportedly remained in a coma over the next four months, finally losing the battle. One his favorite spots was Mount Royal, for which he wrote a song to benefit the Kiwanis Club day camp situated there. His ashes were spread there for him to enjoy the view perpetually. Through recordings by Willie and his protégés, as well as those he inspired, including (the late) Oscar Peterson, (the late) John Arpin, and the incomparable Mimi Blais, his music still lives on nearly a half century later. Among those who have done the best research on Eckstein are Jack Hutton, who wrote an article in The Ragtimer (Nov/Dec 1986) and John Gilmore in Swinging in Paradise (1988). Additional information and music resources can be found on historian Ted Tjaden's site at www.ragtimepiano.ca, and another site run by Eckstein's family, williameckstein.com/. Additional information and Census data was researched by the author. | |||||||||||
Hans Englemann provides a fascinating look, at least what we can see on the surface, at what could be considered somewhat of a musical enigma, Composers, like poets, are born and not made. It is possible, of course, for a man to go through an elaborate course of harmony, counterpoint, musical form, etc., and at the end of the course to be able to write music that is "well constructed" and blameless from a theoretical point of view. There are thousands of Doctors of Music in the world to whom the writing of such music is a simple matter. But natural musicians are more rare. Natural musicians are those to whom music is as the breath of life. They think in tones as others think in words and can only find the true expression of their inmost thoughts in the language of music. A course in theory can only develop such gifts to a higher degree of technical perfection, it cannot supply them if they are missing.
Hans Engelmann was unquestionably a natural musician. From him melodies gushed like water from a spring. Engelmann's music possesses at least one quality which no critic can afford to decry. It possesses the quality of absolute sincerity. Engelmann entered into the life of the people around him and absorbed the life of the everyday world. This he gave out again in his music in good measure. He did what so many of us fail to do—the best he knew how under the circumstances in which he was placed. He interpreted the life he lived honestly into music, and in doing this he gave pleasure to hundreds of thousands —perhaps millions—of people, because he gave them tunes they could understand. Hans Engelmann is dead, and dead before his time, but some at least of his hundreds of melodies will live after him and serve to awaken in many a small heart the love of music which unites all Etude readers, however varied their tastes, in the bonds of true fellowship. He was obviously quite highly regarded for his work, as a number of testimonials poured in to The Etude over the summer, some of them making it into the August issue (distilled for relevance here):
There never has been in America such a prolific and melodious composer as the late Hans Engelmann. some years past, when our native writers began to show what they could do, the first item they seemed studiously to avoid was melody. To speak from my personal experience I attended all the yearly meetings of the National and State Music Teachers' Associations to hear the works of American composers performed, the impression was that all the old forms should be thrown over board, and that no such commonplace as tune and rhythm should be employed. Those of us who have watched the outcome of the effort well know when it ended. Some composers have at once reached the hearts of the people by the simplicity of their melodies, others by the constant performance of them and the popularity of certain artists. In the last finality what one needs to express his deepest feelings is not technique, or scientific contrapuntal examples and exercises, written by learned doctors or professors of music, but real inspirational melody; no matter who wrote it, whether it be a Schubert, Schumann or Engelmann. I have used and played many of Hans Engelmann's writings. About two years ago I purchased several of them for a large publishing house, and one of the numbers being too difficult, we asked him for an easier arrangement, or something of a different style. It was only a few days until we received quite a bundle of new pieces and were requested to take our choice. The musical world has been uplifted and made to feel more keenly the tender and sympathetic qualities of the art in the works of Hans Engelmann. Time and use will put the stamp of approval on those writings of his which are to last, but among them will be "Melody of Love", and "When the Lights are Low". -- W. D. [composer William Dawson] Armstrong
I was very much grieved to learn of the death of Hans Engelmann. We will miss him and the hopes of anticipating his new compositions. We have scores of his beautiful melodies left us, and we should all dig into his extensive writings and find numerous gems that the public know little of. We all know him for his Melody of Love, little thinking that he has written dozens of "Melodies of Love". Let us do him honor and investigate his writings, as they are the living part of this beloved countryman. -- [popular composer] Thurlow LieruanceCareful arranging, and grading the compositions of Hans Engelmann according to their difficulty of execution, their ever tuneful originality reminds me of the beautiful musical allegory of the Tiny Little Rill; "Trickling from the tip top of the tall mountain, it goes on its mission of mercy; joins in the merry song of the rivulet; dancing a duet over moss covered rocks; playing hide and seek among pretty white pebbles, till they reach the evergreen plain below; there a trio is sung with the voice of the brooklet, as it murmurs through the meadows where the wild flowers grow; thirsty cattle politely bow their heads in gratitude for the cool, freshing drink furnished them by the babbling brook, as it hurries on to the river and thence into the might choral ocean. The genial rays of the tropic sun kiss the waters up into fleecy clouds, which the south wind waft back up to the old mountain peak where they fall in gentle tear drops of rain, singing their song of Sweet Home Again." True lovers of music, and lovers of true music will gratefully keep the memory of Hans Engelmann ever green. -- [composer] Frank L Bristow Following his death it is possible that either Marie submitted his remaining manuscripts to one or more publishers, or those such as Witmark, who had put out much of his material, had a backlog of works to issue. Either way, previously unreleased H. Engelmann compositions came out somewhat regularly at first, then sporadically over the next several years. Marie's name also appeared on a veritable flood of copyright renewals in the 1930s, which showed her living in Burnholme, Pennsylvania for most of that decade. Melody of Love stayed in continuous print for many years, and was a staple of piano roll companies through the 1920s. Around 1942 this piece was fitted with new lyrics and became a mild perennial favorite as Whisper That You Love Me. Another set of lyrics were added to it by Tom Glazer as Melody of Love in 1954 to create what became a Number One Billboard Magazine hit the following year. It was recorded at the very least by The Four Aces, The McGuire Sisters, Frank Sinatra, Tony Martin, and Billy Vaughn whose version put it on the top playlists in the United States, making this his longest surviving work. Marie was shown as a widow living with her married daughter in the 1920 Census, still in Philadelphia. She was difficult to locate after that time except through copyright renewals. As Herr Engelmann appears to have been a corporate composer of sorts, that paradigm and a look at various copyrights indicates that he likely did not own much, if any of his music, leaving only his current estate behind and little future revenue. Marie's reacquisition and renewal of many his copyrights helped to rectify some of that, but Presser also renewed their own copyrights on his works. What is interesting in this instance is that Englemann demonstrates something often overlooked in the ragtime era - somewhat of a dearth of ragtime compositions from the Philadelphia area. When Harry J. Lincoln moved there several years later he brought some ragtime with him, but much of his output was like Engelmann's in many ways. The closest Hans came to ragtime in a highly competitive music market was the occasional schottische or polka. While many other European immigrants like J. Bodewalt Lampe and John Zamecnik adapted their training to either arrange or compose American popular music forms, Engelmann seems to have held out to the very end, resisting ragtime and holding true to the fading forms of waltzes, reveries, caprices, and other time-worn genres. Virtually the last piece he wrote, released shortly after his death, was called Taps!, a march, not the familiar evening bugle call. His name will be forever embedded in numerous important music collections around the world, and what little is known of him personally will likely be best revealed through studied performances of that music. The initial epic-sized song list for this article was greatly enhanced by at least 20% through the efforts of historian Sue Attalla. The author hopes this biography answers the many queries that prompted it, such as "Who was this guy?" etc. A little of the background information came from the Etude Magazine of June 1914, but the vast majority was obtained from sheet music and publisher records, public records in the United States and Germany, and various periodicals from the time in which Engelmann lived and thrived. | ||||||
Born in the deep south in Mobile, Alabama, James Reese Europe would eventually become a major influence on the role of black music in ragtime-era America through both his compositions and his efforts to bring respect to the race. He was one of six children of musical parents Henry and Lorraine Europe, including older sisters Minnie and Ida, older brother John, and younger sister, Mary L. Europe. While 1881 is often cited as his birth date, James appears quite clearly in the June, 1880 Census taken in Mobile, showing as 2 months old (only off a little bit), making his birth year clearly 1880. | ||||||
Harry A. Fischler was born in Wellsboro, Pennsylvania to German immigrant parents Frank R. Fischler and Zwila Fischler, who were among many that had settled in central Pennsylvania during the mid 19th century. The year of birth varies between 1879 or 1880 depending on which records are accessed. The 1900 Census shows 1879 as his birth, as does his World War One draft record. However, records from the 1910s forward including his World War Two draft record indicate 1880. That he appears in the June, 1880 Census as 9 months in age confirms an 1879 birth year. Tremendous thanks for additional information and verification go to historian Sue Attalla who cited many articles, and researcher Reginald Pitts. Without their efforts and inquiries made by myself and Harvey Kaplan who lived near Fischler while growing up, Harry Fischler may have been all but forgotten, or at least continue to be misrepresented as a pseudonym. | ||||||
Malvin M. Franklin was born to German father Richard Franklin, a commercial salesman, and his Pennsylvania born wife
Rosa (Pollock) Franklin in Atlanta, Georgia. A younger brother, Raymond, was born when Mal was four. The family moved to Anniston, Alabama where he had some of his primary schooling. His first piano teacher there was Carl Schmidt. The Franklins moved again to Cairo, Illinois, on the banks of the Mississippi River, in 1901. For many years his father worked in the mail order liquor business.One of the first bands he played in was formed by a doppelganger of the mythical Professor Harold Hill of The Music Man fame. Fred Culver was a cigar maker who came to Cairo and offered to put together a boys band. According to Franklin, "Everybody wanted in. What a mad scramble to find instruments. Every hock shop and store as far as St. Louis was cleaned out. I beat the gang to Wunderlich's barber shop and for five bucks came up with a rusty cornet which hung on the wall. Our first practice session was held over Swoboda's saloon uptown and forty fellows attended. Many, of course, dropped out later. I believe I was the only one with a previous knowledge of music but in a short time Culver had whipped us into a pretty good band." Already musically inclined and experienced, Malvin took up piano again in High School with Nellie Louvenia Hall, then in Chicago with Edna Gochel at the Ziegfeld College of Music run by the father of the famed New York theater entrepreneur. By 1908, Mal had moved in with his maternal grandparents, Henry and Angeline Pollack, in the Bronx where he would spend much of the rest of his life. His first piano rags were published that same year in New York by Jospeh W. Stern, including his popular Hot Chocolate Rag. Mal continued his education at the National Conservatory of Music on a scholarship, taking piano performance from Raphael Josephy and harmony and theory from Frank Sudler. The 1910 Census is the first time Malvin lists himself as a pianist at age 21. However, he apparantly had already done some writing as well. According to an article on composer Anatol Friedland, just a couple of years older, in the The Music Trade Review of September 17, 1910: "Malvin Franklin, a former [and continuing] collaborator of Mr. Friedland's in the Trebuhs days, is at work on the music of the musical commedy in which Bud Fisher's 'Mutt and Jeff' will be represented." Along with Friedland and lyricists Edgar Allen Woolf and David Kempner, Franklin had contributed to the musical comedy The Wife Hunters, which was given a boost by it's dynamic star, singer Emma Carus. Malvin also started turning out ragtime compositions and popular songs at this time, including some fast-paced pieces like Hot Chocolate, the lumbering Elephant Rag and the peppy Lobster Glide, the latter being a popular dance number.In 1913 Mal started recording and arranging a number of piano rolls, many for the Rythmodik Company, although several of them were never credited to him, as was often the case. A notice in the September 13, 1913 edition of The Music Trade Review read as follows: "The music roll department of the American Piano Co. has just issued a special folder to introduce six new Rythmodik record music rolls played by Malvin M. Franklin. These rolls will be ready for the trade on September 15, and judging from the advance orders already received from all parts of the country, these new Franklin rolls are destined to score a marked success." It was said in his obituary that he was responsible for producing "thousands of rolls," but perhaps a quantity in the hundreds would be more accurate. In 1914 Franklin self-published a small folio with dance tunes and specific instructions for certain steps, including the half and half (3/4-2/4) dance. That same year he became one of the 90 charter members of ASCAP. In 1964 Franklin would be honored again as one of the few surviving members of that original group in a ceremony in New York City. Mal's inherent talents secured him a staff composer position with publisher Theodore Morse in 1914. The origin of one Franklin's pieces, and perhaps his acquisition of the position, made it into a column in The Music Trade News of April 11, 1914 as follows: "Some songs, especially those of the popular variety, have been written under particularly interesting and peculiar circumstances, and among them is to be included the new waltz song, 'Hesitate Me Around, Bill.' According to the story, William Jerome, the well-known and successful lyric writer, visited the offices of the Theodore Morse Music Co. for the purpose of keeping an appointment, and while there heard Malvin M. Franklin, a young musical comedy composer, playing over a waltz from one of his new scores. Mr. Jerome was impressed with the possibilities of the number, and although not acquainted with Mr. Franklin, persuaded the latter to permit him to collaborate in supplying the lyrics for the piece. The pair got together and the complete song is said to have been completed within ten minutes. William Schultz, the arranger, then took the number and had it ready for the hands of the printer the next day. Just a case of hitting while the iron is hot." A follow-up article noted that, "The Theodore Morse Music Co. feels that it has a real 'find' in Malvin Franklin, who recently joined the company's staff of composers and whose first effort under the Morse signature, 'Hesitate Me Around Bill,' has been particularly well received by the profession and the trade."Oddly enough Franklin did appear to have an alternate line of work, and on his 1917 draft card (no mistake that it is his) he lists himself as a salesman for the Union Thermometer Company, selling surgical instruments to doctors and hospitals. This evidently did not interfere with his musical creativity, as Mal had already written one of the earliest music folios for film pianists and small ensembles. He additionally contributed to some musicals being put together by Anatol Friedland and L. Wolfe Gilbert, including The Wife Hunters, making him somewhat of a fixture on Broadway. Franklin co-wrote the musical comedy A Lonely Romeo in 1919 with Robert Hood Bowers, Robert B. Smith and Lew Fields, which also featured early work by Rodgers & Hart. It was well recieved by Theater Magazine in July, 1919, with special mention given to Franklin and his writing partner Robert Hood Bowers for the "simple and harmonious" score. Another Franklin success included songs composed with the famed vaudeville team of Gus Van and Joe Schenck who would later introduce Ain't We Got Fun. Franklin also started writing ad-hoc instrumental scores for silent films which were performed at select theaters.Ever a busy performer in addition to his arranging and composition tasks, Mal also worked as an Artist and Repertoire (A&R) man for Columbia Records, recording some sides of his own playing as well, including A Bag of Rags with Wilbur C. Sweatman in 1916, and as an accompanist for all varieties of singers on various sized records of the Emerson label throughout the mid to late 1910s. Franklin is absent from the 1920 Census, perhaps overseas during the poll, or just on the move as he played with some bands from time to time. He was back in New York City by July 1920 when it was announced he had signed a new contract with M. Witmark and Sons as his exclusive publishing outlet. According to The Music Trade Review of July 3, 1920, "A big popular song-hit published a year or so ago was 'Shades of Night,' for which Mr. Franklin was partly responsible, and he has met with success in his compositions for many and varied vaudeville acts. It is not merely as a writer of music that he has made a name, for Mr. Franklin has a reputation not only as conductor in the making of phonograph records, but also as a maker of player piano rolls... He is a decided acquisition to the Witmark staff of versatile writers." In 1921 Malvin was married to Caroline (Weinstein) Franklin, and their daughter Gloria arrived October 16, 1923. She inherited some of her father's talent, and by five was already playing several instruments. At age 12 in 1936, Gloria was part of the cast of Billy Rose's Jumbo on stage. She had later successes as well on Broadway and in assorted film musicals.
Mal published some books on songwriting around this time including Malvin M. Franklin's Magical Melody Charts (the Automatic Songwriter) in 1940 and Practical Song Writing (in two volumes) a year later, both of which sold well to composers of all abilities. In 1942, and likely before, Franklin was employed by ASCAP at 30 Rockefeller Plaza in Manhattan, but his address was in Culver City, California. His mother Rose died on August 21, 1943, then Caroline died in 1946 after which he returned to New York for a time. In the 1940s he was also employed regularly at Bill's Gay Nineties where pianist Mike Bernard had appeared in the previous decade, likely performing some of his own ragtime era rags and songs. Mal often accompanied Bill's wife, an opera singer, on radio broadcasts. He continued to compose as well, contributing background music for New York-based films and radio shows into the 1950s. Never too far from musical activity, Franklin was inducted into the Songwriter's Hall of Fame in 1970. He also did work with charities and performed for parties throughout Manhattan, one of those being the West 75th Street Block Association that mentions him playing for some of their events. There is a high probability that he lived in Venice, California for a while, likely in the mid 1970s and as late as 1980, as he received some government benefits there. While in California he contributed one final song to his catalog included in a 1975 MGM promotional film, The Lion Roars Again (currently available on the extras disc in the That's Entertainment box set). It was The Baby Song performed by his friend, comedian George Burns, who was just starting a second career in movies after having taken time off following the death of his wife Gracie. The piece was very well received at the premiere. Malvin died back in New York City in July, 1981 at the age of nearly 92. Mr. Franklin left behind a vast legacy of music which will likely never all be accounted for, but affected many people with smiles or tears at some point. Thanks go to performer Todd Robbins for additional information concerning Mal in the 1930s and 1940s. | |||||||||||
Lucian Porter Gibson left us with only two known compositions, and a lot of question marks as to who he was. Very little is available, but the author has pieced together a probable narrative from what facts are accessible. He was a mulatto born in St. Louis in 1890 to William Henry Gibson and Nellie (Porter) Gibson. Following my initial research on Gibson, the first done to date, a very nice follow up on his family was completed by ragtime historian Reginald Pitts who filled in some of the blanks on his home environment, and found his date of death. Nothing else was found on Gibson himself, but the information on his mother and family do help give a better picture overall and make for a more accurate story with less speculation. |
Richard G. Grady seems to have almost intentionally left mystery behind him in his life. He was one of those part-time musicians who was public when it mattered, but stayed out of virtually any kind of trouble, making it hard to track major events in his life. He was born in Newport, Rhode Island to Michael Grady and Anna (Marion) Grady.
It appears that by 1900 he may have been orphaned, as he is found in a Connecticut school for boys, a likely place for him to have received basic musical training.The next location we have for Grady is Chicago, Illinois, where he apparently lived from around 1905 to the mid 1910s. It was there he met his wife, Bessie McKeown, a native of of Kentucky. According to a later Census record they married in 1905 or so, and had one child, their daughter Helen Grady, in November 1906. Grady's first known song appeared around 1908, Don't Tell Lies, written with New York composer Bessie Boniel, who would go on to write some early movie scenarios. His first syncopated instrumental appeared a year later, Pin Cushion Rag. The Grady family is virtually impossible to find in the 1910 Census enumeration, but given Richards output of that year, he probably listed himself as a musician. Among his more popular works was a set of ten Teddy Bear pieces, Musical Echoes from Teddy Bear Land, aimed at third or fourth grade piano students. Anything musical combined with Teddy Bears was a good seller, even though their namesake, President Theodore Roosevelt, was out of office by 1910. He also turned out a number of fairly ordinary but nicely written parlor pieces. Perhaps preparing for a more prolific career than he actually edned up having, Grady, working largely with McKinley Music in Chicago, actually adopted three pseudonyms in 1910. The first was a variation on his name, R.G. Gradi, used largely for classically oriented parlor pieces. The second and third were Harry Bartell and Violet Hudson, as verified during a period of re-copyrights of his works in the 1930s. In spite of all the identities, 1910 was ostensibly the peak of Grady's known output. Richard managed to snag a good opportunity in 1911. He formed a band that traveled with the Cole and Rice Railroad Show, a combination vaudeville and circus outfit, through their spring and summer season. (The Coles would eventually split from Rice to form the Cole Brothers Railroad Circus.) His band got a mention in the news in the New York Clipper on April 1, 1911: ![]() The Cole & Rice R. R. Shows will open Saturday, April 22. The opening town has not been selected, but it will be near the Geneva. Ohio. Winter quarters. J. D. Harrison is at headquarters now organizing the side show and concert. Bert Rickman handles the candy stands and lunch car; he is also at the quarters getting ready. R. G. Grady, of Chicago will furnish the big show band. The first consignment of animals have arrived. Prof. Berris has his ten trained animal acts all ready for the road. All new canvas will be shipped to Winter quarters April 3. Everything is lovely, and the goose hangs high.
Grady would turn out a rag in 1911 and two in 1912, plus a fairly popular number, That Devilish Glide, penned with future star lyricist Haven Gillespie. One other sentimental piece composed with Mrs. Grady also debuted. Richard's two most popular rags emerged in 1913, Happy Rag and the commonly found Old Swanee Rag. These works showed promise that would never really be cultivated. He had at least one more rag in him, however, Squirrel Food from 1916. His output having dropped, perhaps his muse had left him or he just wasn't making it in the highly competitive Chicago music world. By 1917 the Grady family had moved to Ohio, where he would spend the rest of his life.
In 1918 on his draft record, Richard was living in Dayton, Ohio, and working as a stock keeper for a local engineering lab company. There is no mention of his music career. He apparently was not called to serve in the last weeks of World War I. The last known Grady piece, Christmas Chimes, one of many chimes or bell pieces he had composed, was published in 1919, possibly a holdover from his time in Chicago. The 1920 Census has proved to be as evasive as the 1910, so while his whereabouts are assumed to have been western Ohio, his occupation was not known. By 1930 Grady had brought the family into the act, suggesting perhaps that his wife Bessie had been a performer when he first met her. They were living in Cleveland in an apartment at 1924 Prospect Avenue, and three, including 23 year old daughter Helen, listed their profession as theater musicians. During the 1930s, Helen left the fold. As of the 1942 draft, Richard was living in Columbus, Ohio, lodging at the central YMCA on West Long Street, and working, presumably as a pianist, for the F&R Lazarus Company and the Town and High, both large department stores in Columbus. It is possible that Bessie was separated from her husband since she would not have also been living there. Richard Grady would pass away in Columbus in early 1944 at age 59, sadly having only achieved the mid level status that so many ragtime era musicians and composers would attain, but still having left a few assorted gems behind for us to enjoy today. Bessie, still evidently married to him, survived Richard until June 1972, also dying in Columbus. As always, if anybody has any information on Mr. Grady or his family, and his whereabouts and musical career, please click on my head to email me. All verifiable contributions will be fully acknowledged. Thanks to researcher Reginald Pitts who turned up a couple of helpful details on Richard Grady's wherabouts
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Albert Gumble was born in North Vernon, Indiana a few years after his publisher brother Moses. The family of German immigrant Isaac Gumble and his French wife Rachel Gumble included Moses (9/1876), Lillian (7/1878), Albert and Walter (1/1883).
Isaac owned a retail drug store in North Vernon, and the family was fairly well off as they also list a domestic in the house, Annie Shulpert. Some sources report Albert's birth year as 1883, but the 1900, 1910, and 1920 Census records clearly suggest 1881. His World War One draft record claims 1882 and a birth date of September 20th, while his 1942 draft record gives an even more incorrect 1883 birth year and a date of September 3rd. Since early records average out as more accurate for most composers, 1881 is in all probability the correct birth year. Given that brother Walter was born on September 4, close to the 3rd, and that Mose was born September 14th, September 20th would also seem like a more likely date for Albert.Not much is known of his early years in Indiana and Ohio, where the family moved in the 1890s. His father died in the mid 1890s leaving Rachel as a widow. Albert and Mose both received some music education at the Auditorium School of Music with Herman Froehlich (nothing definitive found on Mr. Froehlich). Albert was also a student of Clarence Adler of Cincinnati, who also taught famed composers like Aaron Copland and Richard Rodgers. As of the 1900 Census the four siblings were still living in Cincinnati with Rachel. The oldest, Moses, did not list an occupation, even though he was already engaged in music performance in many locales, and Albert and Walter were still listed as in school. While Mose was making a name for himself in Chicago and New York as a singer and song plugger, even publishing a few songs, Albert was working his way up the chain as a performer as well. Trying out Chicago for a while, his first publications appeared in 1904, two of them composed with words by C.P. McDonald, published by composer/publisher William C. Polla in Chicago. Genevieve was a good enough seller to generate interest in the young performer, but it would two years before he came up with anything new. ![]() Albert moved to Manhattan, where brother Mose had relocated, to seek out opportunities with a variety of publishers as a song demonstrator. After a meager output in 1906, Jerome H. Remick published one of his marches, Double Trouble, which helped establish a relationship between Albert and the growing company. In late 1907 he composed perhaps his best known instrumental, Bolo Rag, and self published a version of it. The rag was soon picked up by Remick in early 1908 and was a very good seller for an instrumental piece. This also opened a door for Albert as a composer, and as a staff pianist and arranger for Remick as well. The Bolo Rag was recast as a song in 1909, selling even more copies. One of his songs of this period became notorious for its sweetness factor, singability, and (thanks to Moses) ubiquitous presence throughout the East and Midwest. Gumble penned the syrupy waltz tune Are You Sincere with a young Alfred Bryan in 1908. Through the usual distribution methods of free "professional copies," budget orchestrations to members of Remick's Orchestra Club, and just sheer willpower, this song seemed to permeate the air and both engendered both fondness and nausea among the public, and particularly the critics. One in particular from the Music Trade Review had panned the piece when it came out, but soon found himself outnumbered by the general public. The unnamed writer (one of the editors) conceded as much in that paper in the October 10, 1908 edition: The Man on the Street: Are You Sincere? Sure!
Not the least amusing incident of a somewhat broken vacation from which the writer recently returned was an episode in which one of the two reigning song successes of the hour played a prominent part. It may be remembered that when "Are You Sincere?" first made its appearance the writer spoke in no very complimentary terms of its merits, either poetically or musically. This may possibly be one of the reasons that it has since become one of the reigning popular successes of the day, a fact which was demonstrated to the writer in no uncertain manner while visiting one of the most secluded spots on the Rhode Island coast, which he had sought out in an heroic endeavor to forget sheet music, cut rates and, indeed, the entire music publishing world at large. The writer, to his consternation found that at the hotel where he established his headquarters, "Are You Sincere?" was apparently given as a steady diet, it being played by an excellent little string orchestra for breakfast, lunch and dinner. In sheer desperation, therefore, he accepted the invitation of a friend to spend a few days on a small sloop anchored at Watch Hill, feeling sure that here at least he would be safe from the Remick nightmare. "Turning in," somewhat early, on the first night of his visit, he was awakened by the twang of a very much out-of-tune banjo, accompanying an equally out-of-tune voice, to the dreadful strains of this latest "song hit." Clambering on deck he observed on an adjacent boat a callow youth baying "Are You Sincere?" to a moon which resolutely and with some good reason refused to come out. No doubt, therefore, Mr. Gumble will have no hard feelings toward the writer when his royalty check falls due, and in any case it becomes a pleasure to congratulate Jerome H. Remick upon securing as great a "popular" success as any in the history of the wonderful house, which, all said and done, is second to none in its own particular sphere. The 1910 Census showed Albert living in Manhattan with his mother Rachel and sister Lillian, listed as a composer and music publisher, indicating he had acquired some level of responsibility in the Remick fold. By now he had assumed some notoriety among his peers as well as he was teamed up with a number of talented lyricists and composers, with himself in either role, to turn out a fair amount of songs that started getting noticed by the buying public and performers. In addition to Bryan this included such notables as the great ballad writer Arthur J. Lamb, the ever popular A. Seymour Brown, and even the team of Edward Madden and fellow composer Percy Wenrich. Even on his own Gumble fared well, producing The Georgia Rag and Chanticleer Rag in 1910, both of which were also made into songs by year's end.
In 1911 Gumble and Wenrich brought out a tongue-twisting hit that was both a rag and a song in one, the still-popular Red Rose Rag, a somewhat rare three-section song that was also a popular instrumental. There were fewer memorable hits in 1913, but Albert scored again in 1914 with a song based on the book Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. His touch was felt on many other songs in his role as an arranger for other prominent composers, including Gus Kahn, Bud G. De Sylva, Jack Yellen, George Whiting, Benjamin Hapgood Burt and Black and White Rag composer George Botsford. Also in 1914, Albert Gumble became a charter member of ASCAP. In mid 1910s, Gumble did a little bit of work arranging and cutting piano rolls for the Ampico Rythmodick line and the short-lived A.P.C. Company. Most of them were duet performances on the Aeolian and Duo-Art labels, including a series performed with George Botsford. There was a steady stream of fairly good musical entries from the house of Remick over the next several years with Albert as either lyricist or composer, including the occasional solo piano work, such as Red Fox Trot in 1917, and several patriotic numbers that same year. In his role as a pianist and singer, Albert entertained as debarkation centers for the soldiers going off to France, although he did not serve during World War One. In mid 1915 Albert married his wife Florence (Simmons) Gumble. Their first son, Albert Gumble Jr., a real roustabout at nine-and-a-half pounds, was born on August 18, 1917.
In 1919 Gumble followed the lead of others who had capitalized on the Alexander character created in 1911 by Irving Berlin, co-composing Alexander's Band is Back in Dixieland with Yellen. Gumble did have a brief relationship with Broadway, first with George White's Scandals of 1919, the opening volley of that series. His song At the Old Drug Store was composed for the show, but ultimately not included. Then there was the tune Peachy used in the Frivolities of 1920. These efforts were followed by a more ambitious musical he co-composed with Howard E. Rogers and Owen Murphy in 1922, Red Pepper. After 1923 very little came from Al, who was doing more arranging than composing. On May 13, 1923, the Gumbles welcomed another son, Marvin Gumble, into the family. As was true with his older brother Mose, Albert left his regular position at Remick in 1928 when Remick was purchased by manager Jerome Keit. He was soon a staff composer/arranger and pianist at the firm of Donaldson, Douglas and Gumble, which was started by composer Walter Donaldson, Walter Douglas, and Mose Gumble. The Remick firm was sold to the Warner Brothers in 1929, and therefore to Hollywood, but the Gumble brothers remained in New York as East Coast representatives contracting to them on a part-time basis. In 1930 Albert was one of the first to write a comic song that not only mentioned television, but combined it with the telephone, On Your Tel-tel-television Phone, somewhat accurately forecasting teleconferencing 60 years before it was viable. Only a handful of tunes were forthcoming after that as he was working more as a pianist now than as a songwriter or arranger. Around 1938 after Mose left Donaldson, Douglas and Gumble to reconnect with Warner Brothers as a manager, Albert secured a position as a pianist in the luxurious Hotel Ansonia where he also lived, along with many other notable entertainers. Albert and Florence are shown residing there on his 1942 draft record. (The Ansonia was converted to apartments in the 1950s, but in the 21st century many of them have been restored to the capacious suites of the 1930s and 1940s.) Albert Jr. joined the army, and PFC Gumble was married in the spring of 1944. Albert remained at the Ansonia for the remainder of his life, which ended near the end of 1946. Much of his legacy remains with us today, as he is remembered of one of the quieter but still significant contributors to the growth of American popular music in the early 20th century, along with his brother Mose. | |||||||||||
Mose Gumble was born in North Vernon, Indiana a few years before his songwriting brother Albert. The family of German immigrant Isaac Gumble and his French wife Rachel Gumble included Moses, Lillian (7/1878), Albert and Walter (1/1883). Isaac owned a retail drug store in North Vernon, and the family was fairly well off as they also list a domestic in the house, Annie Shulpert. The 1920 Census suggested an 1879 birth date for Moses, but the 1880 and 1900 Census are both clear on 1876 being the correct year, so that was likely an error of vanity common among musicians of that era.
Not much is known of his early years in Indiana and Ohio, where the family moved in the 1890s. His father died in the mid 1890s leaving Rachel as a widow. Albert and Mose both received some music education at the Auditorium School of Music with Herman Froehlich (nothing definitive found on Mr. Froehlich). Mose, like his younger brother Albert, may have been a student of Clarence Adler of Cincinnatti, who also taught famed composers like Aaron Copland and Richard Rodgers, but the association between Mose and Adler is hard to confirm, even though he was attending the same school that Mr. Adler was teaching at. As of the 1900 Census the four siblings were still living in Cincinnati with Rachel. The oldest, Moses, did not list an occupation, and Albert and Walter were still listed as in school. In an 1899 article in the Yale Literary Magazine about Gumble in the mid 1890s, Mose was lauded for his amazing interpretations of the new music, ragtime. It noted how he would usually appear after ten o'clock, a time after the proper and genteel people would have left the club-house at the college in Cincinnati where he was often heard. He was evidently reluctant to get started, but once at the piano would take over the room. "Mose could no more have kept away from a piano than a rabbit from a cabbage patch." The author called Gumble's repertoire "voluminous and vast," stating he seemed to know every "coon" song under the sun, and even noting that Mose played one or two of his own compositions, although none had been in print to that time. One incident was cited in which Professor Pützenjammer, a distinguished piano teacher, walked in one evening to play a few selections. Among them was Simple Aveu which was delicately rendered in a fine fashion. Mose walked in around this time, and after the professor left the bench, he sat down, fooled around for a moment, then launched into a ragtime version of the same piece. The article's author called on a number of wild superlatives to describe the bombastic performance. In spite of the tumultuous applause, it evidently left Herr Pützenjammer enraged, and he shouted at the crowd of ignorant "dumkopfs" as he exited the room. In general, he was known to be one of the most genial of people with a wonderful voice and affable sense of humor.Strangely enough, Gumble's first induction into the published music world was a composition referring to him, but composed by his friend Philip Kussel. Happy Mose was a simple cakewalk that depicted a well-dressed black man on the cover, but was clearly dedicated to Mose on the inside. The title was a nickname he had picked up while at the music school. Mose was obviously interested in doing something more in music, and he made some attempts at composition, first seeing his name in print in 1901 on a quartet of pieces published in Cincinnati and Indianapolis. The most enduring of these was his Japanese Rag which eventually found its way to some piano roll recordings. The following year brought his most substantial hit in his short-lived composition career, The Pipe Dream. Published in Chicago by Shapiro, Bernstein, and arranged by the talented William Tyers, it saw distribution in New York City as well, selling fairly well. When the initial opportunity for Mose to venture from Cincinnati to the professional ranks of a New York publisher was offered, he was reluctant to make the leap. As reported in The Music Trade Review of January 19, 1901: "Mose Gumble, of Cincinnati, O., who was engaged to go to New York and take charge of a branch of the music business of Monroe H. Rosenfeld, has decided not to leave that city." Later in 1901 he was based for a short time in Indianapolis, but soon spent some time in both Chicago and Manhattan. Mose quickly became fairly well known as a fine singer at many venues. When he decided to finally accept a position, there is early mention of one of his initial moves in The Music Trade Review of February 1, 1902: "Mose Gumble leaves New York for Chicago to-morrow morning, where he will assume the management of the Chicago branch of Shapiro, Bernstein & Von Tilzer. Mr. Gumble comes from Cincinnati and is an accomplished musician, well known and popular among performers. He will make a good man for that position." In 1903 he composed another moderate hit, Minstrel Sam. Mose was given an opportunity to plug a new Jean Schwartz song in public, Bedelia, and it is said that his performances turned it into a big hit. Along the way he met singer Clara Etta Black (some sources cite Ella), later known as Clarice Vance, The Southern Nightingale or The Southern Singer. They were an interesting pair, as Clarice was over six feet tall to Mose's medium height. Clarice had already built a good reputation, performing "coon songs" since the early 1890s, and had been previously married two times. She divorced her second husband, John F. Blanchard, just months before she and Mose married on December 7, 1904 in Indianapolis. It would be some time before their marriage would be commonly acknowledged in public. Around that same time he was hired away from Shapiro, Bernstein by Jerome H. Remick, and at fifteen dollars per week he became one of the best paid song pluggers and professional managers of his age in the country. It was also in 1904 that younger brother Albert Gumble started his lengthy own career as a songwriter. For the next several years, Mose was employed as both a manager and plugger with Remick. Among the pieces he helped turn into hits were Shine On, Harvest Moon, Put On Your Old Grey Bonnet, In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree, Smiles, and By the Light of the Silv'ry Moon. Mose would utilize many techniques to get a song instantly known at what seemed like an ad-hoc appearance at a rooftop garden show or vaudeville theaters. He would employ plants in the audience, stooges to make comedic entrances, even water boys. One early plant used by Mose was singer Al Jolson. There were times that Mose would sleep on the beach at Coney Island during multi-day sojourns through the many dance halls at Brighton Beach and westward, always with a bundle of demonstration sheets under his arm. He would make sure that audiences would quickly pick up the catchy refrains, and even have them or his plants insist on encores. He was often referred to as the Dean of song pluggers. A typical report on the Remick firm intended for the trades was found in the December 29, 1906 issue of The Music Trade Review: "Mose Gumble, manager of the professional department, speaking for Jerome H. Remick & Co., said: "By George, we have not had a dull month - in fact, scarcely a day—throughout the year. Every month has shown an increase in business, and in talking the matter over with Mr. Belcher (the manager) relative to pushing sales,
A 1907 passport application lists Gumble as a manager in the music business. It was followed by a trip to Europe, reported in The Music Trade Review of May 11, 1907: "Mose Gumble, manager of the professional department of Jerome H. Remick & Co., New York, went abroad Wednesday on the steamer 'Baltic,' of the White Star line. He will be away several weeks. 'Clarice Vance,' the popular vaudeville singer, who is Mrs. Gumble in private life, accompanies her husband on this pleasure trip. Mose and his estimable wife have the good wishes of everybody on their journey—a perpetual honeymoon, as it were." When Remick resituated to a larger building in 1908, the importance of the firm's professional department and the nature of their new digs was described in the March 28, 1908 Music Trade Review:: "The professional department is, of course, a model of comfort and luxury, as befits the ladies and gentlemen of the dramatic profession, who have long since regarded the music publishing industry as one run in their own special interests. This department takes up the entire third floor, which has been divided into eleven rooms, one of which will be devoted to the use of the popular Mose Gumble. The walls, however, have not been padded, and therefore professionals who have voices like the horns used on election night will be able to make themselves as objectionable to their neighbors as they please, without any serious interference. The fifth floor will no doubt be designated 'The Remick Club,' for here the social end of the Remick institution will be upheld. It is here that the Remick barber will shave the Remick employes while they wait, and here both Messrs. Williams and Van Alstyne may be induced to indulge in an occasional hair cut. Mose Gumble, however, will content himself with a hasty shampoo, and it is not unlikely that the sweet voiced little lady who attends to the telephone will take the opportunity of frequently having a marcel wave put in her raven hair." The 1910 Census lists Mose as a publisher, although he was still in the same role in the Remick corporation. This is underscored in the February 19, 1910 issue of The Music Trade Review: "Mose Gumble, manager of the professional departments of Jerome H. Remick & Co., New York City, has spent this week in Chicago, and his visit marked both a new extension of the Remick policy and the enlargement of the activities of the genial and very energetic Gumble. Hereafter he will have entire charge of the professional work of the house of Remick. In other words, the professional departments in New York, Detroit, Chicago, and even the new branches in San Francisco and Los Angeles will be under one direction and will report to Mr. Gumble in New York. As a consequence, Chicago will see more of Mr. Gumble in the future than in the past. His visit here is a very satisfactory one. He is greatly pleased with the new offices in the Majestic building, which, in company with Billy Thompson, local professional manager, he selected. This is his first trip to Chicago, however, since the new quarters were occupied. He speaks very highly of the intelligent work done by Mr. Thompson and his efficient aids." Happy Mose did have some unhappiness in his life. Clarice was becoming somewhat quirky in her behavior. She had also done some song plugging for him, but would refuse to take on anything even mildly suggestive, as many songs of the early teens clearly were. It was said she "gives those to her husband for cigar lighters." Just the same, she continued singing coon songs, and eventually recorded a number of sides for Victor in 1909. After that series she did not record any more, offering no explanation. With Clarice continuing to work on finding engagements, and Mose traveling around the country for Rmick, relations became strained. The couple finally divorced in 1914, and Clarice left the stage for the most part soon thereafer. She married at least one more time to a writer for Universal Pictures, but he committed suiced in 1928. Mose continued on more in the capacity of a professional manager for Remick throughout the 1910s, and by 1917 he was reported as making "regular monthly tours through the Eastern territory." He was also in charge of the composers of the firm, and likely reviewing their work for sales potential. One of his more famous charges was George Gershwin, who was hired to the staff by Mose as a plugger on the piano when he was just 15. This lasted less than two years as the youngster was trying to prove himself as a composer, not just a boy wonder at the keys. Finally, Mose had dealt with enough of George's constant submissions, telling him to "leave the composing to the composers," and eventually firing the future American treasure, something he was often reminded of in later years. For the 1918 draft registration he was listed his employer as Jerome Remick, and in 1920 he was listed as a publisher of music, living in Manhattan with his mother, sister Lily, and brother-in-law Maxwell Moss. Remick was continuing to open new branches, including Toronto, Canada, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and in Texas and California. The strain of this level of work keeping up with growth eventually got to Mose, and it was reported in Variety that he was hospitalized for a "complete nervous breakdown" in 1919. After a short rest he was back on the job for Remick. Even after 16 years with the firm, Gumble's first trip to the west did not occur until 1920 as reported in the trades in early December: "Mose Gumble, representative of the Jerome H. Remick Co., is on the Pacific Coast, looking over the territory for the first time. He has arranged to open several new Remick Song Shops in Texas and other Southern States." Gumble typically oversaw the opening of the new branches, and by now was Remick's most trusted traveling representative and manager. Continuing in his position as a general manager for Remick through most of the 1920s, Mose abruptly resigned when the firm was sold to manager Jerome Keit in May 1928. He immediately teamed up with Walter Douglas and Walter Donaldson to form Donaldson, Douglas and Gumble, which debuted at 1595 Broadway, Manhattan, on June 1, 1928 with a well attended opening ceremony. As announced in The Music Trade Review of May 19, 1928: "Mose Gumble, who has been with the Remick firm for twenty-eight years, since its inception in 1900 [actually since 1904], is also a valuable member of the new firm, being well known to the leading vaudeville teams and orchestra leaders of the country." He was reportedly afforded $300 a week for his services. Composer Donaldson was considered the owner and Douglas and Gumble the employees, with Mose's official title being Professional Manager. Later in the year Gumble had some medical issues which required an unspecified surgery at Lenox Hill Hospital, but was he back at work by late October. When the remains of the Remick firm were sold to Warner Brothers in 1929, Gumble was reacquired by the new Warner Music on a part time basis to assist with their catalog and be their East Coast representative. In 1930 he seems to have had another job as well, listed as a salesman in a music store. In 1938 he left Donaldson, Douglas and Gumble and went to Warner Brothers on a full time basis, his official title being the Manager of Exploitation Department of All Standard Songs. His former wife Clarice appeared as an extra in a 1937 Warner Brothers picture, which coincides with his first work for that company, but whether he secured her the position or not is speculation. She subsequently moved to San Francisco and died in a California state hospital of advanced dementia in 1961. In the late 1930s Mose founded the Music Publishers Contact Men's Association, a relief organization for employees of publishing firms to help them through hard times. From the late 1930s into the 1940s Mose was somewhat of a celebrity among the many celebrities living in Manhattan, having a table reserved for him for lunchtime meetings for many years at either Martin's or Toots. Here he would spend hours talking about the early days of show business, something that may have held some fascination for younger composers and entertainers. This was also good public relations for Warner Brothers as his legacy lent credence to their music department. Gumble remained with Warner Brother's music literally up until his death. In late September of 1947 Mose boarded the 20th Century limited from New York to Los Angeles, on the way to meet with singers Dinah Shore and Rudy Vallee and composer Harry Warren among others. He was found dead of a heart attack in his compartment around Elkton, Illinois, having recently turned 71-years-old. "Happy Mose" Gumble was mostly remembered by his friends in the music business, and not so much the public. Still, much of what he did shaped the musical tastes of much of the buying public in the early years of the 20th century. Thanks go to the biographer of Clarice Vance, Sterling Morris of Seattle, Washington, for additional information on the eccentric Mrs. Gumble. | |||||||
Harry P. Guy was born in Meigs, Ohio, about 70 miles south of Zanesville, home of the famous Y-shaped bridge over the Muskingum River and Licking Creek along the original toll road laid out by Col. Ebenezer Zane which is present-day Interstate 70 and US 40. His Ohio born father Samuel Guy was a shoemaker, and his Virginia born mother Lucy Ann Guy was a homemaker. Both were mulattos. Some of the information for Guy comes from music historian Arthur LaBrew, and examples of his works can be found at the Hackley Collection online. | ||||||
Robert Hampton was born in Tuscumbia, Alabama. He was known to have spent most of the ragtime era and many years after in St. Louis, Missouri after many years in his youth in the Little Rock, Arkansas area. The 1900 Census lists him in Little Rock, living with his widowed mother Annie Hampton and his older brother William (Willie) Hampton. | ||||||
Ben Harney, sometimes called the "Father of Ragtime," was one of the first entertainers to put ragtime on the stage in legitimate theater and Vaudeville. Many also consider him the first to have corrupted either white music with a black form, or the black ragtime music in its adaptation into a white entertainment. Whichever may be true, he did introduce ragtime to a large segment of the white population, giving it the legs necessary to grow into a full-fledged genre sooner than it might have otherwise. He did not consider himself the genre's father, but rather its adoptive parent. Harney was born to Benjamin Mills Harney and Margaret Wellington (Draffen) Harney in Kentucky. The exact location has been disputed, even in official records, because he was supposedly born aboard a steamer (as per his 1897 marriage license) on the Mississippi River. Picking the closest town of origin has resulted in guesses including Louisville, Middlesboro, and even Nashville and Memphis, Tennessee. Memphis is listed on his father's military pension form, accepted by the family as most likely. Wherever it was, likely a birth in transit, Louisville was considered to be his home town. The year of birth is commonly shown as 1872, but the 1880 Census, taken in June after his birthday, states that he is 9 years old, suggesting an 1871 date instead. To further reinforce this, there is no draft record in 1917 or 1918 for Harney, which would have been a requirement if he were born in 1872 or later. While neither of these are definitive proof of his year of birth, they are still consistent. In general, earlier census records on most composers have proven to be the most reliable in terms of an accurate year of birth, so 1871 is the more likely year in this case. Harney's race has also been called into question, including the possibility of some mix. The family's own genealogical research indicates, however, that he was of white heritage for many generations. His last wife, Jessie, had written that Ben's great uncle, General Selby Harney, was of Louisiana Creole extraction, but again the Census records indicate otherwise. Eubie Blake's comments about him being a black passing for white were later negated when he admitted to historian Ed Berlin that he had not actually met Harney. Willie "The Lion" Smith had the same opinion. To the contrary, it was stage entertainer (not the Detroit ragtime composer) Fred Stone who commented in 1924 that Harney was "a white man who had a fine Negro shouting voice." Ben's father, a Captain in the Civil War, was a civil engineer, so the family lived comfortably in Louisville during the Reconstruction era. He was also, according to notes left by Jessie, fairly proficient in both mathematics and music. It's not clear what happened in the next few years, but in the 1880 Census Margaret appears to have been divorced or divorcing from Benjamin as mother and son are living with her father, lawyer and state legislator John Draffen, in Anderson County, and she had retained her maiden name. Reports vary on whether Ben took some formal piano lessons over the next few years and learned the classics or whether his mother taught him the fundamentals by rote. Either way he did have some musical knowledge and experience at the keyboard.
It is possible, but not easily established or verified, that Harney was briefly married while in Middlesboro. Mention of his marriage to a young Kentucky girl named Jessie Boyce was made to historian Rudi Blesh by Bruner Greenup, a Harney acquaintance. Historian William Tallmadge[1] postulates that since Harney was living for a time next door to his father that Greeenup's story may be true. Marriage and Census records have not turned up anything conclusive, and the closest match would be a Bessie Boyce, who would have been around 15 at the time of the alleged marriage in 1891. They would have split in 1893, but subsequent records of Bessie do not indicate a prior marriage. If true, this makes more sense than the possibility that his last wife, Jessie Haynes, was also named Jessie Boyce at some point. In an April 1916 article about Harney in the Lynn, Massachusetts Evening News, it was written, "Instead of the negro for his pupils and audience, as the nature of the songs would rather make one think, Harney used to entertain the moonshiners with his rag-time music. When the makers of illicit whiskey were not busy killing off a Deputy Sheriff or getting their stills in working order, they would cluster around Harney in some popular place and listen to his rather musical selections. As these songs were just being created by Harney, they made a tremendous hit with the natives, and whenever he would start the piano, a thumping out of one of his go-band songs, business in the immediate vicinity would be suspended and Harney would own the place until he got tired." This is rather lavish, and possibly a planted publicity story, but it does at least give some idea of the environment in Middlesboro at that time. In 1893 Harney quit his postal job and returned to Louisville to pursue music. There was also a lot more exposure at this time to developing black music styles in this more urban setting. Forming a group with some of his musician friends, he plied the venues in Louisville playing dance music, but always with an ear towards syncopation. It was said that the red-haired youth sang out with a husky voice, often in a pseudo-Negro dialect, tap danced both standing and sitting, and used a cane to supplement his rhythms, some saying it acted as a third leg in some ways. He still relied on a "day job" for a while, working as a lithographer for Macauley's Theater in Louisville. Harney became quite popular in Louisville and soon was able to get some of his work in print, including Good Old Wagon, with the help of a local businessman. In 1895 he hit the road and Ben concentrated in theaters in the East and Midwest, reportedly having little trouble getting work for a few weeks at a time.He finally tried for New York City in late 1895 or early 1896, with his growing reputation succeeding him. Ben also brought his latest "rag-time darkey" song with him, Mister Johnson. Some writers considered this to be the first piece published in the blues genre, but that point is debatable since it may reflect the feeling of the blues lyrically, but not musically. The first mention of Harney in Manhattan is found in February, 1896 when he was playing at the famed 14th Street theater of Tony Pastor, the most prominent vaudeville venue at that time, which also took in a young Mike Bernard within a few months as a star attraction. The classically trained Bernard claimed he got his interest in ragtime from hearing Harney play, and quickly followed Harney's lead. Pastor was experimenting with the notion of "continuous Vaudeville," acts rotating at almost any hour of the day, a topic which made for a funny Vitaphone short in the 1920s. A February 1, 1896 review in the New York Clipper notes that his act was polished and well balanced, and that his dialect singing was "a worthy copy of the subject he mimics." A February 22, 1896 review in the same paper said that Harney "jumped into immediate favor through the medium of his genuinely clever plantation negro imitations and excellent piano playing." It wasn't long before Mister Johnson (Turn Me Loose) was published and being performed around town. He also soon teamed up with a black ragtime performer from Tennessee named Strap Hill, who worked with Harney on and off for several years. On New Years Day 1897, Harney married Canadian-born singer/actress Edyth Murray in Streator, Illinois. This was, of course, the year that ragtime - in both song and piano rag form - broke out across the country. Pastor and other Vaudeville bookers kept Harney very busy, and by the end of the year he was consistently billed as "The Inventor of Rag-Time." This claim was helped along to some extent by the release of Ben Harney's Ragtime Instructor, which was actually edited by composer/arranger Theodore Northrup, originator of what many consider to be the first true piano rag in February of 1897, Louisiana Rag: Pas Ma La.By 1898, Harney had helped to make the word "rag-time" (not just "rag") well known not only in New York but beyond. He has sometimes in retrospect been one of many entertainers criticized by blacks for bastardizing what was considered to be their original music, although in fairness it appears to be more likely that he adapted what he had learned from both white and black musicians. However, many white musicians felt he was corrupting himself by performing "darkey toons" without the usual camouflage of burnt cork on his face. Rumors persisted, even beyond his death, that there was some Negro blood in him, or if he had not been seen in person, that he was likely black. Yet Harney persevered, and countered the establishment in one way by doing something very unlikely, and not widely practiced. He hired black musicians to work with him. Whether this was to authenticate his presentation or simply deflect some of the criticism is unclear. But it was a pioneering effort in any case. He still had to have white musicians with him in some venues as many places would refuse to hire any mixed groups. Harney was part of a benefit concert in the early 1900s at the Metropolitan Opera House in Manhattan, doing his now famous "stick dance" with the cane, on the same program as more serious stars like Lillian Russell. In a sense, even if tainted by racial bias, these types of appearances helped bring legitimacy to ragtime in white society more so than any black performer in that decade might have been able to do, including the highly talented Bert Williams during his time with the Ziegfeld Follies, simply because of the social climate of the age. He continued to get praise in the press as well, with one article in a New York paper citing that he could "sustain certain notes for special effect to extravagant, breathtaking lengths; others he would break in a way that he alone could manage." Sometime around 1900 or 1901, Harney met the woman who would become his final wife, Jessie Haynes. The singer had been featured on the cover of one of his 1901 songs, which was dedicated to her. Ben and Jessie formed their own Vaudeville act with singing and dancing, often in blackface, and toured the U.S. on the Keith and Orpheum circuits, and the world on other tours over the next decade and more. One somewhat scandalous number performed by the white Jessie was Harney's I Love One Sweet Black Man, creating a stir from time to time when they toured. Harney also wrote and produced an all-black variety show called Ragtime Reception, although there was some attrition of his New York musicians once James Reese Europe and his Clef Club started dominating black-based entertainment in the city in the early 1910s. Until Al Jolson's rise on the stage in the mid 1910s, Harney was possibly the highest-paid entertainer in show business. It is unclear when and if Harney divorced from Edyth, but it appears that he and Jessie married sometime from late 1915 to 1916. The couple appears to never have had any children. However it was also clear that the Harneys were often far from frugal, generous and capricious in their spending, and when work started to dry up this became an issue. His last composition in 1914, Cannon Ball Catcher, made it only into a vanity press, and did not see distribution. As the jazz age approached, the aging Harney was not able to adapt his singular style in a way that would readily fit into the styles of that new and progressive music. The question of Harney's role in the origination of ragtime was noted in a 1916 snippet in the Music Trade Review. "The Review Hears: That the question as to who originated ragtime has again come to the fore with Ben Harney and McIntyre & Heath, as rival claimants. That Jim McIntyre claims his 'Rabbitt' [sic] song of 1897 was the first ragtime, while Harney has $100 which says that his 'Mister Johnson Turn Me Loose' was the first. That present day writers are not worrying so much about who originated ragtime as about to whom they are going to sell their latest number." This item clearly stated that any answer to this question was being couched with a "so what" attitude, another indication that ragtime was on the way out. In the end, it was clearly Harney that would be remembered.Bookings declined rapidly in 1917 and 1918, and the Harneys had to scale back their lifestyle and their act. The couple continued to tour in Vaudeville and on their own in the 1920s, although his billing as the originator of ragtime carried almost no weight during this time. They were likely viewed as a quaint reminder of a different generation. His obituary in Variety suggests that they largely retired from touring on the Orphuem circuit in late 1923. Although Harney was largely ignored by commercial record companies, one archivist managed to get a few sides of his unique vocal stylings on disc in 1925. Of of the better venues for the couple, they were frequently in Indianapolis, Indiana, Chicago, Illinois and Detroit, Michigan, still performing on occasion, often in blackface. While it seems out of vogue for the 1920s, stage veterans Al Jolson, Eddie Cantor and George Jessel among others still donned burnt cork frequently as well. Ben had a heart attack in 1928 and they had to greatly curtail any performance activities. They were found in Detroit in 1930 where the Census lists them as Mr. and Mrs. Ben R. Harney, actor and actress, temporarily lodging in a boarding house as the couple had likely settled in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania by this time. There were periods in the late 1920s and early 1930s when some nostalgia for ragtime emerged, particularly after the release of Warner Brothers sound film The Jazz Singer, and they found work billed as early jazz singers in some venues. Philadelphia was close enough to New York City for them to commute just in case they were called back into action during the era of sound films. But the Great Depression and his health issues all but removed their viability as performers. They lived simply on pensions from the Actor's Fund, and reportedly did not have a piano in the home. So it was in relative poverty in Philadelphia that the once highest-paid entertainer and "originator of ragtime" was felled by a heart attack four days short of his 67th birthday. There was a small obituary in the New York Times in addition to the one in Variety, but he still remained all but forgotten. Jessie still talked proudly about her late husband in interviews for articles and eventually to Rudi Blesh for the first book on the era, They All Played Ragtime. Circumstances of her death, years later, were questionable. She was reportedly found slumped in a chair with a gas jet on in the room, which was officially deemed to be accidental, although the landlord had made some indication to Blesh that it may have been a suicide. In historical perspective Harney can once again be remembered, perhaps as the man who introduced ragtime music to much of white society, even if not quite its originator. The Harney Family has done some great genealogy on their famous relative, from which part of this biography was compiled. In addition to efforts in finding early and later Census records (he appears to have been missed in 1900 and 1910) by this author, additional definitive work was also done by ragtime historian Dr. Edward Berlin and historian Lynn Abbott. There are still questions on aspects of Harney's life as conveyed in his own interviews, but this represents what is known to be the most accurate information, except where noted when called into question. Historian Fred Hoeptner made the connection with Bessie Boyce, who may yet be a person of interest in this story. 1. Ben Harney, The Middlesborough Years 1890-1893, William H. Tallmadge, American Music Journal, University of Illinois Press | |||||||
Will Held was born to German immigrants Herman and Bertha Held in Philadelphia. He had six older siblings, including Bruno (3/1870), Emil (4/1874) and Elizabeth (6/1879) born in Germany before the family immigrated in 1880, and Ella (4/1884), Mildred (8/1886) and Clara who did not survive childhood.
Perhaps inspired by his brother Emil, or simply wanting to join in on the ragtime craze, Will had his first known ragtime work published in 1909 by Vandersloot Music in Williamsport, Pennsylvania; Sweet Ecstasy, which was a lightly syncopated novellete. As of the 1910 Census taken in Philadelphia at 2623 Germantown Avenue, Herman was now the proprietor of a downtown music store, Bruno was working as a dealer at the store, and Will was listed as a musician taking odd jobs. The following year he brought out two full-fledged rags, That Everlasting Rag and Fire Cracker Rag. That Everlasting Rag was published in Battle Creek, Michigan, indicating the probability that Will had become an itinerant by that time, perhaps traveling with a vaudeville troupe or chataqua. Fire Cracker Rag was distributed by Corry Publishing in Philadephia. In 1912 he released a relatively popular reverie, Golden Dream, and co-composed the songs Girl, Girl, Girl and Dorothy, Sweet Dorothy, the type of songs that further hint that he was involved with vaudeville. There was also the march Southern Land, and a couple of arrangements, indicating that he was potentially contracted now and then by other composers or publishers to do piano reductions or song arrangements. Only two known pieces came out over the next three years. Then in 1916 Held had his finest rag published by the noted classic ragtime published John Stark in St. Louis. Chromatic Rag has become a classic unto itself over the past century, and is the piece that Will is most noted for. It would be his last known published composition. That same year found him married to Ella W. Douglas of Philadelphia, who was descended from a Scottish father and native Pennsylvania mother. As of the June 1917 draft taken in Philadelphia, Will was living at 2911 N. 26th Street, working as a musician (probably a film accompanist) for the Kensington Amusement Company. They had opened the Iris Theatre on Christmas day, 1916, and was one of the finer motion picture theaters in Philadelphia for the next several years. In the 1920 Census Will is listed as a music teacher, living in Philadelphia with Ella, and likely playing local venues on the side. This is where he disappears. All that could be found in public records and periodicals was a notice of his death in mid 1923 at age 35. If anybody has more verifiable information on the Held Family and their musical life, it would be greatly appreciated and acknowledged here. | |||||||
Fred Heltman is hard to categorize as either publisher or composer, since he remained active in both fields for many years and with lasting result. Information on him is scarce, but as much as is known is included here. An only child, he was born in Northern Ohio to grocer John Hall Heltman and Carrie B. (Dresskell) Heltman. | ||||||
Abraham Holzmann was born in New York City in 1874 to Hungarian immigrant (interchangeable with German as many sources cite) Jacob Holzmann and his Louisiana born wife Isabella Holzmann. According to the 1880 Census the family was living in New York with Jacob working in wholesale tobacco, and Abraham's sister Charlotte had been added to the family. Sister Estelle was added the following year. They are next seen in official records taking a trip to Hamburg, and possibly on to Hungary, in August of 1889.
What happened to the family in the 1890s is unclear, but it appears that Jacob father died, and his mother remarried to Aschel Worms, who was of German descent. This added 2 stepsisters and 3 stepbrothers into Abe's extended family, and an additional brother was born to the couple. During the mid part of the 1890s Abe received a fine music education, learning skills in notation, music theory and harmony, and piano performance. Some of this was evidently learned in Germany, but much of his education was received at the New York Conservatory of Music. And where did all this training lead him? Into the new genres of American popular music.In 1899, with the popularity of cakewalks on the rise, Abe released two of his own into the wild - Smoky Mokes and Bunch O' Blackberries. They were published by Leopold Feist's firm of Feist and Frankenthaler, who had recently launched their publishing house in Manhattan. The covers, most likely chosen by Feist or his staff, showed different groups of little black boys, thus serving as visual puns for both of the titles but not necessarily intended as stereotyping. Smoky Mokes was dedicated to composer and journalist Monroe H. Rosenfeld, who may have helped Abe with connections in New York. Both pieces did well and were soon picked up by John Philip Sousa for his band. Reports suggest that Sousa himself rarely conducted the rags or cakewalks his band performed, usually delegating that responsibility to his assistant Arthur Pryor. Reception was evidently mixed at first, but the pieces ended up selling quite well during the Cakewalk craze of 1900-1904, and were often recorded as well. The following is an excerpt from the New York Herald of Sunday, January 13th, 1901, which was reprinted on the back of another Feist publication in promoting Hunky Dory, a 1900 entry by Holzmann that featured the same style cover as the previous cakewalks. It is a colorful combination of fact and hyperbole. Corrections or comments are [in brackets].
When John Philip Sousa [more likely Pryor] raised his baton to the opening measures of Composer Holzmann's famous "Smoky Mokes" last season, the noted bandmaster's audience was nonplussed. Then surprise gave way to delight and vociferous applause. Persons in the audience consulting their programmes discovered a new genius in their midst. From that hour the name of Holzmann was a byword for American cakewalks, and "Smoky Mokes" re-echoed upon the pianos of a million music lovers. Then followed "A Bunch of Blackberries" and other famous oddities in Southern music by the same composer. An interesting idea of the American love for the Antonín Dvorák theme in the plantation melody is seen in Composer Holzmann's latest creation, "Hunky Dory". As can be gleaned from the accompanying extract of this quaint composition, the music is a happy combination of the cake walk and the two-step. the melody is rhythmical and full of jingling originality and tempts one's feet to impulsive action. The HERALD presents this unique creation to its readers from Composer Holzmann's original manuscript [more likely from one of the publisher's plates]. The dance will be simultaneously produced in England, France and Germany during the coming month, and is already in vogue with the leading orchestras and bands in this country. As for the "classical music" that Holzmann was a "celebrated writer" of, searches through a number of fairly substantial databases have turned up nothing of note before his initial 1899 entries, which were popular. As with the mistaken identity of German origin, perhaps he was simply known for playing or arranging classical music, for if he was composing such works then it appears they were not being published, even if performed. Following his initial successes, which were considerable,
Holzmann worked as an arranger and staff for Feist, and did come out with a few intermezzos and waltzes that were fairly well crafted in late 19th century style. But his major output followed popular trends, including more cakewalks, marches, songs, and even some American Indian lore music, prescient in the latter half of the 1901-1910 decade.In 1901 one of Abe's best loved marches emerged. Title Blaze Away, it appears to be a tribute to Rough Rider turned President Theodore Roosevelt, who may be the figure depicted on the cover. As with many of Holzmann's other works, this was picked up by Sousa's band, and became popular with circus bands as well. It turned out to be his last substantial hit on piano rolls and early band records as well. Uncle Sammy, a 1904 patriotic march, also proved to be somewhat popular for more than a decade. Displaying a softer side, Abe composed Loveland Waltzes in 1905, which saw a number of piano roll and phonograph renditions for many years. He contributed to the growing cache of Native-American themed pieces with Flying Arrow in 1906. One curious entry in 1907 was his Cowperthwait Centennial March, celebrating the 100th anniversary of a Manhattan carpet and furniture department store, Cowperthwait & Sons. This one was distributed by the store, rather than by publisher Feist. In 1908 Abe came out with three fine pieces, including one campaign song for William Howard Taft's Presidential run, The Whip which was essentially a train wreck march based on a popular melodrama, and Old Faithful, which was aimed at dog lovers and their trusted pets. Early that year Holzmann made a ten week promotional trip for Feist to most of the larger cities in the United States where they did direct business. As he told The Music Trade Review just prior to his mid January departure, "My trip has no actual business significance, inasmuch as my intention is to visit the trade socially, if only to express Mr. Feist's appreciation for their untiring efforts in pushing his publications... Another reason for my tour is that my new march 'Old Faithful' has already shown signs of popular approval, and of course I will endeavor to interest the retailer in this number, which I think is going to be an enormous seller." Also around 1908, Abe married Isabelle "Belle" Fishblatt, and their daughter Natalie Holzmann was born on June 2, 1909. In the 1910 Census the Holzmanns are shown as living with her parents, and he is the manager of a music publisher, which was Leo Feist. However, in February 1912 Abe left Feist, and by March he had gone to work for the dominant New York and Detroit house of Jerome Remick & Company. He was hired by Remick to manage the Band and Orchestra department. They were responsible for creating and distributing complete orchestrations of current Remick tunes for orchestras and bands to perform. Around the same time he was appointed the bandmaster of the Mecca Shrine Band in New York. Holzmann's output had been consistently light, if significant, but was trimmed to only one piece annually from 1909 to 1916, albeit each piece saw a measure of success to go with its accompanying hype. In 1915 Feist capitalized on a resurgence of the cakewalk with a reissue of Smoky Mokes, bringing renewed exposure to Holzmann and fellow cakewalk composer Kerry Mills whose At a Georgia Campmeeting was also enjoying fresh sales 16 years after it release. One late march was the winner of a 1916 contest for the composition of a piece to open the new Rialto Theater in Manhattan. Holzmann's The Rialto won out over fifty other entries, and quickly found its way to a popular piano roll as well.In 1916 Abe finally retired from composition in order to manage affairs on a larger scale at Remick. He made his mark on some retail and distribution practices within the company, and was featured in a Music Trade Review article of June 16, 1917 on this very topic, part of which is quoted here: Abe Holzmann, Manager of the Band and Orchestra Department of Jerome H. Remick & Co., Tells Why the Sheet Music Dealer Should Be the Logical Distributor of Orchestrations
One of the problems of the sheet music trade has been that of deciding on the exact status of the retail dealer as an efficient distributor of band and orchestra music. During the past few years the dealer has had accorded more general recognition as a distributor of that class of music, although it has been maintained by some publishers that the most satisfactory method was that of direct distribution from the publisher to the band or orchestra leader. ...The Review interviewed Abe Holzmann, manager of the band and orchestra department of Jerome H. Remick & Co., who is known personally to practically every band and orchestra leader in the country, but in every case where it is possible he prefers the leader to deal directly with the dealer in his locality. "It is with pleasure that the house of J. H. Remick & Co. sees the recognition which has been and is being given the sheet music dealer as a distributor of band and orchestra music," declared Mr. Holzmann, "and it is with considerable pride that we point to the fact that our house was one of the first to offer such recognition. We have found that the policy has proven most successful and it has paid to continue it. "We not only cater to the dealer for the purpose of getting him to handle our publications, but we want him to feel that in handling them he is doing so at a liberal profit. We insure this profit by placing our band and orchestra publications in his hand at 15 cents each. He is expected to sell them at 25 cents and we stick to that price ourselves, to protect the dealer from being undersold. The dealer who handles orchestrations properly, and gives real attention to the department, will find that it attracts trade to his store and increases the sale of piano copies and other forms of music... "Remick & Co. have evolved a special system for placing their band and orchestra publication on the market. In the first place, no such music is published unless it goes before what I term a 'board of censors' and this eliminates the chance of dead numbers being issued. All numbers are only selected after careful consideration and after the song or instrumental number has been demanded by orchestra leaders in various parts of the country..." Another feature of the Remick publications and one in which Mr. Holzmann takes first prize is the care that is being given to the editing of every piece of music and for that matter to every detail of its production, plates, paper and printing being of first quality. Every proof must pass through three hands for correction as insurance against error. "Conditions affecting bands and orchestras throughout the country were never better," declared Mr. Holzmann, "and while there are still many old timers in the active ranks, a newer element has made its appearance and is steadily gaining in strength...""The publishers of New York," he continues, "have seen a change come over the methods of distributing band and orchestra music. In the past, the dealer only ordered such publications as were actually in demand and for which he had calls and made no effort to carry a stock of that sort of music. The dealer, however, is constantly being recognized to a greater degree and this fact has proven beneficial to both the retailer and the publisher. It would seem that even closer co-operation between these two important trade factors is to be looked for in the near future..." As the war effort increased in Europe in 1916 and 1917, many of Holzmann's earlier marches, such as Uncle Sammy and The Winning Fight found new popularity on roll and record. On his 1918 draft record he and Isabelle are shown as living across the Hudson near Thomas Edison's haunt of East Orange, New Jersey. He also appears as a Remick manager in 1920 in the Census. In 1923 Holzmann finally joined ASCAP nearly a decade after it was formed.
Being a civic minded individual and somewhat of a community leader as well as one in publishing, Holzmann was active in a number of groups, including the Masonic Lodge, Elks Club, and the Knights of Pythias. It appears he continued in his capacity as a manager at Remick until around 1924 when he went to work as the band and orchestra department leader at rival Shapiro, Bernstein & Company. In the firms announcement of his acquisition, they noted that: "He has traveled at one time or another in practically every State in the Union and his first-hand knowledge of orchestra requirements in every part of the country stands him in good stead." In the 1930 Census Abe still lists himself as a publisher of music, although the firm name is not shown. His daughter Natalie, now 20, was also contributing to the household, working as a secretary in a local brokerage. The following year, lyricist Jimmy Kennedy, who had made a hit out of John W. Bratton's Teddy Bear's Picnic by adding lyrics to it, did the same for Blaze Away. While not as popular as the Bratton piece, it did see renewed interest for a short time. The timing, however, coming out during the depths of the Great Depression, did not favor great success. Holzmann left music publishing in late 1933, and spent the remainder of his life working as the advertising manager for The International Musician, the paper for the International Federation of Musicians, based in Newark, New Jersey. He died in East Orange in January 1939 at age 64, just as prosperity was coming around the corner. Holzmann lives on, however, in the traditional jazz groups and ragtime bands that continue to perform his most popular pieces in their concerts. | ||||||
Charles Humfeld was born in the same general vicinity as Scott Joplin, in Texarkana, Texas. His parents were German immigrant August Humfeld and his Indiana-born wife Mary Jane Humfeld. One older sister, Mary Ida Humfeld, was born in 1877. Some time in the mid 1890s the family moved to St. Louis, Missouri, which in the coming decade would become a hotbed of ragtime activity. As of the 1900 Census, the family was living on North 6th Street, just a few blocks from the river and in the heart of downtown. While it was not directly near some of the black entertainment districts, it is possible that Charles may have accompanied his father, a head cook at a local hotel, to his job where some live music was often performed. It also was not that much of a stretch in 1904 for the family to have ventured out on the trolley to the Lewis and Clark Exposition,
where 12 year old Charles might have been drawn to the fair's Entertainment Pike, a location that featured all sorts of music, but largely ragtime. While it is not clear on just how much music education he received as a youth, at least some was likely given, including piano lessons.Barely 17-years-old, Charles ventured into the music business both as a performer and composer with his first published piece, Red Moon. It was an Indian-themed intermezzo capitalizing on the successes of Charles Daniels' Hiawatha and Kerry Mills' more recent hit, Red Wing. Printed and distributed locally by Howard and Browne Publishing Company, this simple piece did well enough to warrant a song version the following year with lyrics by Edward Wilson "Eddie" Dustin, an employee of the publisher. Charlie's encore was the amusing and eclectic Who Let the Cows Out. Likely developed as a stage routine during his early years of performance, this interactive piece requires either the pianist or the audience to "make a noise like a cow" (and cows are certainly capable of creating many different types of noises), or say "Oh! You cow!," predicting some of the lingo style of the 1920s. Who Let the Cows Out, which also contained snippets of tunes in an odd interlude that indicated some of his performance style, became a moderately successful hit for Humfeld as well as Howard and Browne. In a time when many of the early ragtime musicians had left the city for Chicago or New York, he was ready to take over as one of the resident entertainers of St. Louis. The 1910 Census shows the family still living on North 6th Street downtown, with August as a cook and Charles as a musician working in local theaters. Now performing in vaudeville houses and cinemas around the "Gateway to the West," Charles expanded his composition base in 1912 with That Left Hand Rag. While it contains some elements of Ted Snyder's Wild Cherries with its striking left hand patterns, many of them use unexpected notes and harmonics, making this a fairly original work. He acquired at least two nicknames during this time. The first one, based on his last name, was "Humpy." For this he composed the self-published Humpy's Buck in 1914. The other, a tribute to his musicality and ability to adapt tunes into his own unique style, was "The Musical Architect." In spite of his originality, and likely many other compositions that went unpublished, just one more piece would make it into print in 1915, the last for more than a decade. When You Buy Me a Ford (I'll Be Ready to Marry) with lyrics by local resident Lawrence Lewis, does not especially stand out among the flood of Model T songs that hit the market around that time, and was easily overwhelmed by Byron Gay's The Little Ford Rambled Right Along of the same year. The song was published by Syndicate Music, the alternate label for famed classic ragtime publisher John Stark Humfeld continued to work in St. Louis venues for the next two decades and more. In 1917 he listed himself on his draft record as now living with his widowed mother on Arlington Street, and working for the New Grand Central Theater, a large movie house downtown on Grand Blvd. Interestingly in 1920, still with his mother, he listed himself as "professor of music." This was more likely a title in the colloquial sense, in which many piano players and orchestra directors were referred to as "professors" in respect of their musical leadership or abilities. In 1925 Charles married Corinne Humfeld, and Charles K. Humfeld was born to the couple in February 1927. By the late 1920s, work as a movie theater pianist had all but dried up. But Charles was already moving in a different direction. While he was still performing in local clubs and entertainment theaters, as well as events held by lodges and other organizations, he invested in real-estate just ahead of the great depression.
One new composition was released in 1930. His Majesty: Theme March was published by the King Institute of Music in St. Louis. While this conjecture has not yet been fully confirmed, it appears that Charles received a teaching certificate from this school and took up that occupation for many years, primarily at McKinley High School in St. Louis, There he directed the Boys Glee Club, Band, Musical Revue Club and Orchestra in addition to his other duties. One description in the 1935 McKinley yearbook states: "Dancers, boys and girls from the glee clubs and entertainers of every description are members of the Musical Revue Club. Under the personal direction of Mr. Charles Humfeld, this club presents a revue or an operetta each semester and promotes sociability among the students." Other comments in various yearbooks indicate that he was a relatively popular teacher. Sightings of Charles in public venues were reported through the early 1940s, after which little is heard about him. Of interest is that his son, Charles K., was involved in a radio contest looking for the most representative "All American Boy" in early 1939. He came in second out of a field of thousands, including six finalists, a proud moment for the family indeed. Dad put his composer's cap back on for a World War II rallying song titled Let's Go, in which he provided both the music and lyrics. Self published, it did not make it far beyond St. Louis, but was heard on KMOX radio there at some point. Following his retirement in the mid 1940s, Humfeld died in 1967 at age 75 in St. Louis, followed by Corinne in 1976. Charles K. Humfeld passed on in 1995 at age 68, also in St. Louis. While Charlie's contributions to ragtime were likely more centered in St. Louis as a performer, his few lasting works in print are still a part of bovine providence, and udderly memorable, and his contributions to engendering musical interest in America's youth should not be underrated by any means. | |||||||
Born in Columbia, Tennessee, Hunter was reportedly blind from birth. The 1880 Census confirms the young Hunter as living in Columbia with his mother's parents, James and Isabell Hackney, his father Jourdin, uncle William Hunter, and his older siblings Thomas, Blanch, James and Lena. The fate of his mother is not known, but given the situation she may have been deceased by this time. His blindness was not indicated on the Census form. Growing up in an area that was full of talented black musicians, there was no shortage of aural folk influence for Hunter's keen ear to pick up. As a youth he was sent to the Nashville School for the Blind where sight-impaired students were taught trades, and of course how to blend into society as best they could. I would like to add a personal note of thanks to Barry Morgan who sent information on Hunter's marriage certificate and obituary. He also mentions the possibility of a song, Davy, composed for the St. Louis World's Fair in 1904. When this can be confirmed, the additional information will be incorporated. | ||||||
Herbert Ingraham was born to Samuel and Ella Ingraham in Aurora, Illinois. He was the oldest of five, including Robert G. (1887), Solomon (1888), Myrtle (1892), and Edward Roy (1895). Both Robert and Roy would become composers as well. While Herbert's birth year is frequently shown as 1883, the 1900 Census is very clear that he was born in July 1881. Comparing the records of his other siblings, including draft and other official listings, their birth years stay consistent, so it is likely that his age at the time of death was misreported. In addition, the Census taken in June of 1910 shows his age as 28, which is also consistent with 1881, so that is the most likely accurate year. The family remained in Illinois until the early 1890s when they moved southwest to Indiana where Myrtle and Roy were born.
Herbert was more or less a child prodigy, and he received musical training early in his life. While not much detail is available, he is listed in 1900 at age 18 as a professional musician in Hammond, Indiana. By 1902 he had moved to Chicago to pursue a career as a performer, and hopefully a composer. Ingraham formed and led an orchestra and a theatrical company in his early twenties, which appear on a few advertisements from 1904 to 1906. Nothing of his would be in print until 1905, but even at that his early songs show polish in both music and lyrics, and an ability to lean in both comic and sentimental directions.It took only one good song, Because I'm Married Now, to propel Herbert to fame. When publisher Maurice Shapiro heard a performance of the piece by New York singer Mabel Hite, he sought out the composer. Shapiro had struck out on his own after a brief business relationship with Jerome H. Remick and had been on the lookout for good talent. Finding that Ingraham lived in Chicago, Maurice ventured to the windy city, and within three hours of meeting the composer signed him as a staff composer. After a period of only limited success there was suddenly enough promise for a career that in mid-1907 Herbert married his sweetheart Francis (Frankie) S. Campbell, then took off for New York City where would spend the rest of his abbreviated life. Shapiro Music Publisher would become the home for most of Herbert's remaining pieces As a career booster his first year in town, Ingraham had the song Mother's the Boss at Our House interpolated into the first edition of the Ziegfeld Follies, a launching pad for many composers. Because I'm Married Now found its way into the short-lived Knight for a Day. In 1908 Herbert would have his most popular ragtime work published, Poison Ivy. It was one of several rags he wrote, but one of the only ones to be printed separately. There were several more interesting pieces in 1908 that all fared well, and even without a big hit Ingraham was viewed as a great asset to Shapiro. Unfortunately, late in 1907 he was diagnosed with the beginnings of tuberculosis, "the white plague," and soon took steps to deal with the then fatal disease. The news of his affliction finally broke in the trades as reported in The Music Trade Review of March 21, 1908: "Our readers who are familiar with the songs of Herbert Ingraham will be sorry to learn that this talented young writer was last week seized with a sudden attack of lung trouble which necessitated his immediate departure for the mountains. Maurice Shapiro, under whose wing Mr. Ingraham did his best work, spoke hopefully of the young composer's speedy return to health and his duties, when needless to say he will receive a cordial welcome. Mr. Ingraham for some time past has been a popular figure in song writers' Bohemia, and his many friends will no doubt take the suggestion to write him a few lines regarding the doings of his immediate set, which will no doubt be greatly appreciated by him during his temporary banishment."In a follow-up on Ingraham's situation, The Music Trade Review of May 16, 1908 said that "The many friends of Herbert Ingraham, the well-known song writer, will be glad to hear that his improvement in health is so pronounced that he can now do his composing at the piano. He has rented a cottage at 32 Helen street, Saranac Lake, N. Y., where he will of course be glad to hear from his friends. His numerous songs published by Shapiro are doing remarkably well." In fact, he did have one notable piece by the end of the year. The November 21, 1908 Music Trade Review noted that "...'Roses Bring Dreams of You' is meeting with such unprecedented success. Mr. Ingraham arrived from Saranac Lake, where he has been living for some time on account of poor health. Not only did he look particularly well, but he brought with him two new songs, which he played over to our 'Man on the Street.' ... Mr. Ingraham returned to Saranac on Saturday last, where he will remain throughout the winter." In 1909, a very busy year, many of his other rags, some likely composed as early as 1907, were released as Herbert Ingraham's Classic Rags in one of the first Shapiro single composer folios in print, making it also one of the first true ragtime folios ever as well. Also in 1909, another important work, Amo, was released as both an intermezzo and a song. The Ingrahams also released a daughter in July, who was not coincidentally named Amo. In another brush with the New York theater, the beginnings of a promising career there, he had two more songs interpolated into the play In Africa, In the Little Town Across from Jersey City and In My Little Hottentot Hut for Two. Unfortunately the production closed before it officially hit Broadway. As part of his comic sense he contributed two follow-up songs to a hit Jimmy Lucas and Harry Von Tilzer. One was a direct answer to I Love, I Love, I Love My Wife, (But Oh You Kid!) titled (You Can Have Your "Oh You Kids," But) It's a Lovin' Wife for Mine. Another was the female take on the piece, I Love My Husband, But Oh, You Henry!. Things were going well in 1910 when Herbert's most poignant ballad, composed with frequent contributor Edgar Selden, found its way into the stores. Actually, the melding of lyrics and music for All That I Ask of You is Love, which was a nearly immediate hit, was a story of serendipity. The story was told in The Music Trade Review of September 3, 1910: ![]() About six years ago the young composer fixed in mind a melody which had been slowly completing itself there. Storing it away in some musical recess, he awaited a lyrical translation for it. Forgetting it as far as his conscious mentality was concerned, he finally prepared to die. Three years ago he knew he was stricken with the white plague, but even then the gift of melody occasionally expressed itself. He journeyed to New York one day, a few weeks ago, leaving his bed to bear with him the written transcript of one such expression.
While consulting his publisher about this, he chanced to pick up a sheet of manuscript which Edgar Selden, the publisher's manager, had set aside for private perusal after the first flush of inspiration had passed. Not often, we should say, does this business man in the publisher's office set on paper the crystallized result of the workings of his hidden thoughts. Something of which we know not, however, and into which we have no wish to pry, had impelled the dramatic up through the prosaic in his mind, and then evolved the dramatic into the poetic. The part of him farthest removed from the office world had given birth to a cry for love, as we read between the lines. The dying composer, Ingraham, seemed fascinated on the instant. Growing visibly excited as he read the manuscript, he finally exclaimed: "For six years I have had in my mind the melody for which these are the words!" Protests were unavailing, and when Ingraham played the melody the result was that the mutual expression of the sentiment and music, of either by the other, was so evident to the listeners that diffidence was forgotten and protests withdrawn. It is not a "high class" ballad, as it has been designated by the publisher. It is a simple song of the heart, voicing the one human longing that is as pure as it is everlasting. We may forget harmonic science for a moment and dream of the Greatest Thing in the World. All That I Ask of You is Love has since been covered by many artists through the decades, even in the movies. The Ingrahams were shown in the June 1910 Census living in Manhattan in the Hotel Carlton, Herbert listed as a Music Composer. Curiously Amo was not there, but she may have been staying with a relative during the polling because for Herbert was not at all well. The July 23 Music Trade Review noted that "Maurice Shapiro, the music publisher, paid a hurried visit to Highland Mills, N.Y., the other day in response to a message that Herbert Ingraham, the composer, was dangerously ill. The message was to the effect that if he wanted to see Mr. Ingraham alive he must make all haste. As Mr. Ingraham is a close friend of the publisher's, as well as being the composer of some of Shapiro's most successful songs, the latter was naturally much perturbed during the trip, but he found the composer in no immediate danger. Mr. Ingraham is seriously ill, however, although his friends hope to see him again restored to health. In spite of great hopes and concerted efforts, the disease was far too advanced by that time. Herbert Ingraham passed on there in late August at age 29, depriving the music world of a composer and lyricist with great future promise. The Music Trade Review of September 3 laid out the sad news: "The world of popular music in general and music publishers in particular received with deep sadness last week the news that Herbert Ingraham, one of the youngest and most successful composers of the day in his sphere, had died at Saranac, N. Y. It was known some three years ago that he was afflicted with tuberculosis, and for the last two years he has been an invalid. Most of this summer he spent at Highland Mills, N. Y., as he had done in former years. On Sunday of last week he went to Saranac, hoping that the change would be beneficial. Instead, he lived only three days." The funeral was held at Mr. Ingraham's old home in Whitney, Illinois. Shortly after this that the grief-stricken Frankie gave birth to their son, Herbert A. Ingraham. But the story does not end here. The year after he died Selden published a couple of songs finished after Herbert's death, and teamed up with Melville J. Gideon for a follow up to their big hit titled I Give You All You Ask (Answer to All that I Ask). Maurice Shapiro also included many of his pieces in his famous series of Gem Dance Folios, plus more runs of his most popular material, giving glowing descriptions of his late employee's work in advertisements. Then in 1913, Frankie, as Mrs. Herbert Ingraham, composed a beautiful tribute to Herbert. My Chain of Memories was "Dedicated to my beloved husband." The chorus lyrics are as follows:
My Chain of Memories of You, I'll Cherish Dear, my whole life thru;
A Rosary to me it seems, your face I'll always see in dreams. My Love for You, 'twill always be, to last until eternity. Each vow I hear, each promise dear, in my chain of memories. In 1914, Herbert's younger brother Robert had his Mando Rag published by John Stark in St. Louis. Around 1916, the youngest brother Roy took up the family business and started in vaudeville, launching a long and successful career as a composer of popular songs and film music in his own right. In 1920, Frankie was living in Minneapolis with Herbert (Amo curiously does not appear in this Census either) and her mother Lydia Campbell. She lists herself as a "writer of songs," but to date no other piece has surfaced with her name, unless she was using a pseudonym. At some point in the late 1920s, Amo H. Ingraham moved to Hollywood and got into motion pictures. In 1930 she is living there with Frankie and Lydia, listing herself as an Actress in Motion Pictures. While in Hollywood in 1936, Amo took the time to renew many of her father's 1909 and 1910 copyrights in her name. She died in 1983 after a fairly steady career in show business. Roy died in 1988 after a similarly successful run.
Perhaps one of the most fitting tributes to his memory was that published by his peers in The Music Trade Review, September 3, 1910: Noting an exception here and there, as just mentioned, we are sadly reminded that one such composer will write no more songs. The recent death of Herbert Ingraham is a loss to the world of popular music that will not soon have its compensation. Pure melody that stirs the heartstrings of the unthinking and also produces emotion in trained minds is rare indeed outside the limits of standard works which have unshakenly stood the test of time and constant repetition because of certain qualities of universal appeal. Ingraham had the gift of melody. Argument over what constitutes real music and carping over his possible lack of musicianly science are futile. The gift was there and was expressed in a few simple melodies of the kind that there is no resisting.
His last song, so called, was of this order, and by virtue of a happy chain of circumstances the melody is inseparable from the words, so that each seems one with the other, not to recur to mind as a thing apart. "All that I ask of you is love" haunts the mind—the human mind of infinite desire for the ideal, but of limited capacity when possessing it—even in the scant possibility of achieving it. The strain sounds the very keynote of longing. You find one expressing the other; the music seems the only possible vehicle for the thought. Strain, longing—melody, lyric. One and inseparable, the sentiment and its musical mate, thus wedded, were joined through no cool, calculating, business intent of composer and author, but through the inscrutable workings of the harmony of things for which the universe was meant, but which is too often jangled out of tune. For all of us, Herbert lives on in his piano rags and touching ballads which are still performed over a century later.
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Among the legendary performers of New Orleans or Chicago ragtime, the name of Tony Jackson usually rises to the top when the discussion turns to piano players - even above his highly self-esteemed colleague Ferdinand "Jelly Roll" Morton. Morton himself claimed that he learned much about performance from Jackson, and held him always in the highest regard, even almost two decades after Jackson's premature death. But as with many legends, there are some mysteries left behind, and many untold stories as well. Some of the mysteries or misconceptions will be challenged here, but even at that, some of the more salacious or curious stories will have to remain untold.
The first mystery goes to a topic that was a wider variable among ragtime musicians who were primarily performers that it was among those who were primarily composers. That is the issue of age accuracy at any given point in their life. A number of noted pianists tended to stretch reports of their longevity, or aged in reverse from year to year at times. In the case of the Jackson family, the entire lot appears to have inherited the rare gene that allowed them to grow older at a much slower rate than most ordinary people. Therefore the dates reported here are mostly derived from the earliest possible Census records in each case, providing a higher level of probable accuracy than the later ones. Antony (or Antonio) Jackson Sr. was born in South Carolina in March of 1843 into slavery. He was a fisherman for many years, but after the Civil War moved to Louisiana where he was listed as a laborer, potentially still fishing for a living. It was there he met and married Rachel (Dennis) Jackson, sometimes thought to have been born in Virginia. However, her records back to 1860 indicate her to be a Louisiana native born around 1849. The pair are listed as Toney and Rachael in the 1870 Census, their race shown as mulatto. Subsequent Census records showed the family as black. Starting around 1870 the couple routinely added to the family. First along was Andrew in June of 1870, then Sarah around 1872, Maria (or Mariah) around 1874, Ida in June 1876, and Louvina in October 1878. As of 1880, Toney (as he appeared through the 1910 Census) had not yet been born, discounting the misquoted 1876 date that his sister Ida stated in an interview, which was actually the year of her own birth. (Note that in 1910 Ida was already stated as six years younger as was Louvina, and that Marie states that she only aged one year between 1910 and 1920, showing as 35 and 36 respectively. Ida had subtracted a full decade from her actual age in 1920.)
Toney and Prince Albert were evidently the last children born to Antonio and Rachel. It is unclear if he was born as Antony or Antonio, but he and his family spelled the name as Toney through most or all of his stay in New Orleans up through 1912, and even some advertisements in New Orleans used the same spelling. It appears he started using the more traditional Tony once he moved to Chicago around 1914. This biography will use Tony from this point for better continuity. Jackson was born in uptown New Orleans, a town known to be the home of some of the most famous brothels and least effective law enforcement in the entire South. Living originally on First Street between Annunciation and Rousseau, then Amelia Street near Tchopitoulas, and by 1900 on Magazine Street near the edge of the Treme and the French Quarter, the family was located in the area where least some of the prostitution was centered in the 1880s and 1890s. Tony and his sibling were certainly aware of it, as many children were introduced to brothels and bars at a young age through earning money doing deliveries of documents or contraband. The problem was so rampant and seemingly unenforceable that in 1897 New Orleans Alderman Sidney Story, who was opposed to the vice, but who recognized that it had to be controlled somehow, came up with an ordinance that set aside a district outside of which prostitution and vagrancy, or the residency of "abandoned or sinful women" was made illegal. Given that it did not specifically legalize prostitution or drug use, etc., inside the noted boundaries of the district, it actually was upheld as Constitutional when challenged, thus creating the only area in the United States were such behaviors were more or less allowed. Much to the chagrin of the otherwise staid and churchgoing Mr. Story, those outside of New Orleans named "The District" Storyville after his legislation. Jackson was there for much of the existence of the District (1898 to 1917), which after it was shut down left no clear home for "legal" prostitution until Nevada voted to allow it decades later. Tony was said to have been a lonely child, but also one with a great desire to make music. His sisters kept a close watch on him and tried to keep him from going into the rougher areas of their neighborhood. As it was, he was rarely allowed outside of his small yard. However, he evidently had some exposure to pianos or some keyboard instrument, and tunable instruments like banjos as well. Reportedly at the age of seven (although this may be at slight variance to fact), he managed to piece together the guts of a piano or similar keyboard instrument with some sort of tunable string system, creating a giant harpsichord of sorts. On this he gave concerts of the music he knew, which was church music and hymns for the most part. His first full performance was allegedly of How Sweet To Have a Home in Heaven. The lad's contraption was obviously not good enough to render any serious music education, so within a short time an arrangement was worked out with a neighbor exchanging dishwashing duties for time on the neighbor's old reed organ. Even this had limitations, but Tony had little choice at that time. By age thirteen he was finally allowed regular contact with an actual piano. Through the efforts of the corner barber and orchestra leader Adam Olivier, Jackson was allowed to use the piano in the saloon next door to the barber shop in the mornings before daily business commenced. He obviously had been well-prepared after six or so years of warm-up to dig right in and learn all he could about upright pianos. Before long he was asked to play in the saloon at various times, and by age fifteen he was reportedly considered to be among the best pianists in that part of New Orleans. Among his first semi-regular gigs was playing with Olivier's band, which included Bunk Johnson at that time. The next obvious step was to move north into the Treme and the District, playing at saloons and brothels. This transition was evidently easy, and his role there uncontested, as many testimonials after the fact will assert. By the time of the 1900 Census at age eighteen, Tony Jackson ruled the roost in Storyville,
Tony Jackson played at Gypsy Schaeffer's, one of the most notoriety women I have ever seen in a high-class way. She was the notoriety kind that everybody liked. She didn't mind spending her money, and her main drink was champagne, and, if you couldn't buy it, she'd buy it for you in abundance. Walk into Gypsy Schaeffer's and, right away, the bell would ring upstairs and all the girls would walk into the parlor, dressed in their fine evening gowns and ask the customer if he would care to drink wine. They would call for the "professor" and while champagne was being served all around, Tony would play a couple of numbers.
If a naked dance was desired, Tony would dig up one of his fast speed tunes and one of the girls would dance on a little narrow stage, completely nude. Yes, they danced absolutely stripped, but in New Orleans the naked dance was a real art. Following this narrative Morton played his own recollection of Jackson's Naked Dance which has since become a favorite of many ragtime and stride pianists. How authentic the Morton recording is in relation to Jackson's original is anybody's guess. At the very least he captured the essence of Tony's flashy style.
The pianists of Storyville knew that they could often convince the "clients" of a parlor that their playing had something to do with the client's success. They also knew that those fresh off the train at the Basin Street station who had been lured in by schillers handing out cards on the street would also want to show off their generous nature in order to impress the girls, so they would often tip the pianists excessively. Making $100 or more in a night was hardly unheard of in any of the brothels. What was surprisingly hard to find, however, was a white pianist. One named "Kid Ross" was the exception, not the rule, as Jackson, Morton, and many of their Creole or Negro colleagues were most highly regarded in the district. While they weren't playing the brothels, or taking advantage of the free services offered to them there, performers like Jackson also played in some the saloons along Bienville or St. Louis streets. Frank Early's My Place saloon at the corner of Franklin and Bienville was where Jackson often held court, singing songs like "I've got Elgin movements in my hips with twenty year's guarantee." As he lived above the saloon for a while, it was supposedly here that he wrote the piece Pretty Baby (a notion that remains unconfirmed), which would not gain much notoriety until he moved to Chicago years later. Jackson was said to have fitted dozens of different lyrics to the tune, most of them bawdy, and usually tailored to the joint he was in and the present company. Morton, again through Lomax, recalled those times as well as if setting a scene in a dime novel: Those days I hung out at Eloise Blankenstein and Louis Aberdeen's place [actually Abadie's Café which was often mispronounced as Aberdeen's] - the rendezvous for all the big sports like Pensacola Kid, who later came to be the champion pool shooter of the world. Bob Rowe, the man who didn't know how many suits he had, and his wife, Reday Money, were regulars, also the Suicide Queen, who used to take poison all the time. Tony Jackson also hung out there and was the cause of me not playing much piano.
The favorite of most pianists, gamblers and millionaires was The Frenchman's Saloon at the corner of Bienville and Villere streets. Morton recalled that this was the place to hang out at 4:00 AM after most of the night's activity was over, and that there was virtually no discrimination there. Indeed, until legislation was passed in the 1890s distinguishing Creoles from Creoles of Color, they were often regarded as equals. While now considered legally to be Negros, even with 1/8 black blood, in Storyville they were considered to be just people, especially the ones who provided entertainment. Jackson was more black than Morton, but he was usually treated with the same respect. Even Morton, who was very reluctant to say too much about the talents of many other musicians, was very forthcoming with his obvious praise and respect for Jackson, even if a bit exaggerated over time:
All these men [the pianists who frequented late nights at the Frenchman's Café] were hard to beat, but when Tony Jackson walked in, any one of them would get up from the piano stool. If he didn't, somebody was liable to say, "Get up from that piano. You hurting its feelings. Let Tony play." Tony was real dark, and not a bit good-looking, but he had a beautiful disposition. He was the outstanding favorite of New Orleans, and I have never known any pianists to come from any section of the world that could leave New Orleans victorious...There was no tune that come up from any opera or any show of any kind or anything that was wrote on paper that Tony couldn't play. He had such a beautiful voice and a marvelous range. His voice on an opera tune was exactly as an opera singer. His range on a blues would be just exactly like a blues singer... Tony happened to be one of those gentlemens that a lot of people call them a lady or sissy... and that was the cause of him going to Chicago about 1906 [actually 1912]. He liked the freedom there... Tony was the favorite of all who knew him, but the poor fellow drank himself to death. As Morton succinctly pointed out, Jackson was indeed known to be homosexual. He also suffered from epilepsy. A hard life mixed in with those other factors may have also spurred on alcoholic tendencies acquired while in his teens. They did not, however, affect his overall popularity, and certainly the madames and their girls felt quite comfortable with Tony. However, there were some, even in Storyville, who were less than tolerant or understanding about what they considered to be an aberrant behavior or lifestyle, so he had to keep some facets of his life under wraps while living in the South.
There were a number of other similar remembrances of Tony's talent recounted by musicians to author Nat Shapiro for his book Hear Me Talkin' To Ya published in 1966. Among them, the great composer Clarence Williams who said "at that time everybody followed the great Tony Jackson. We all copied him. He was so original and a great instrumentalist. I know I copied Tony... About Tony, you know he was an effeminate man - you know... He was of a brown complexion, with very thick lips." Another admirer was trumpeter Bunk Johnson who said that "Tony was dicty," a term often applied to well-dressed gentlemen of color. Clarinetist George Baguet further recalled: "He'd start playin' a Cakewalk, then he'd kick over the piano stool and dance a Cakewalk - and never stop playin' the piano - and playin', man! Nobody played like him!" Singers loved him as well. In Hear Me Talkin' To Ya blues pioneer Alberta Hunter had only fond memories of him: Everybody would go to hear Tony Jackson after hours. Tony was just marvelous - a fine musician, spectacular, but still soft. He could write a song in two minutes and was one of the greatest accompanist I've every listened to... He had mixed hair and always had a drink on the piano - always!... Yes, Tony Jackson was a prince of a fellow, and he would always pack them in. There would be so many people around the piano trying to learn his style that sometimes he could hardly move his hands - and he never played any song the same way twice.
Jackson's philosophy was fairly simple. In order to be successful a pianist should be able to try and please every customer. This means learning every style and every melody, including the latest popular tunes, opera airs, coon songs, rags, and all the blues imaginable. His ability to sing as well put him over the top in this regard. As quoted or paraphrased in Storyville by Al Rose, he believed, "What's the man gonna think he comes in here slaps a twenty on the box and says 'Poets and Peasants Overture' I got to tell him I can't play it? Hell, I learn all them things, mister. All of 'em!"Writer and amateur pianist Roy Carew, who was a year younger than Jackson, was transported from his native Michigan to Gulfport, Mississippi in 1904, and ended up pursuing a job as a bookkeeper in nearby New Orleans. It did not take him long to discover the enchanting sounds of Jackson, and as a result became a life-long admirer and sometimes documentarian of not only Jackson but "Jelly Roll" Morton. In 1943 he recalled his time in New Orleans from nearly four decades earlier in an article published in the Record Changer magazine in February 1943: In the early days of the present century, there stood, at the downtown corner of Villere and Iberville Streets, in that part of New Orleans known as Storyville, a frame dwelling of the type descriptively called "Camel-Back." This name was applied to houses which had a single story in front but were two stories in back. The house rested on a brick foundation a few feet high, and four or five wooden steps led up to the front door which faced on Iberville Street. On the glass portion of the door was painted the inscription, "Gonzales, FEMALE CORNETIST." There was no yard in front, nor at the side, and the brick banquettes [porches or raised sidewalks] extended right up the side of the house, but a few passengers got on or off in that neighborhood; the dance halls and flashy places were two or three block toward the river, nearer Basin Street.
One evening during the winter of 1904-1905, I was strolling aimlessly about downtown New Orleans, and in the course of time I found myself approaching the corner I have described. As I neared the front of the [Antonia] Gonzales establishment. I could hear the sound of piano playing with someone singing, which my ears told me was coming from the Villere side of the house. Always found of popular music; I immediately walked to the side of the house and got as close to the music as possible with the banquette going right up to the side of the house. I found myself standing under one of the windows of what probably was Madam Gonzales’ parlor, listening to the "professor" playing and singing. That night was thirty-eight years past now, but it is almost as clear in my memory as if it were last night. It was the most remarkable playing and singing I had ever heard the songs were just some of the popular songs of that day and time, but the beat of the bass and the embellished treble of the piano told me that here was something new to me in playing. And the singing was just as distinctive. It was a man’s voice that had at times a sort of wild earnestness to it. High notes, low notes, fast or slow, the singer executed them all perfectly, blending them into the perfect performance with the remarkable piano style. As I stood there, I noticed another listener standing on the edge of the sidewalk a little ways away. I did not know who he was, but afterwards found out that he was another local piano player, Kid Ross. I think. I never got to know the man, but I will never forget our short conversation. "Who in the worlds is that?" I asked, indicating the unseen player as I steeped over to him. "Ton Jackson," he replied. "He knows a thousand songs."
After having been confined to his back yard in his early years, then to New Orleans and District through his teens, it is no wonder that Tony developed some wanderlust. So he went was offered an opportunity to hit the road in 1904 he readily accepted. In the summer of 1904, he made what was probably the only tour of the vaudeville theatres in his career. Toney was engaged as a featured entertainer with the Whitman Sisters’ New Orleans Troubadours, in a troupe that included fellow Storyville pianist Albert Carroll, was acting as the musical director. It didn't take long for Jackson to tire of the constant travel required in vaudeville, and having become a bit disgruntled he left the troupe when they reached Louisville, Kentucky. It was there that Jackson met local performer Glover Compton and the acknowledged top player in Louisville, "Piano" Price Davis. Davis was already earning a reputation as a gambler and an unreliable performer in spite of his talent, so Compton was rising in stature while taking over many of Davis' gigs when he was a no-show. While much of this part of the story is based on Compton's memories as related to writer Rudi Blesh in 1949, most of it has turned out to be fairly accurate, so it is plausible. Jackson was evidently a bit tired of being on the road and was hankering to get back to New Orleans. Compton and Jackson soon became friends, performing for a time at the Cosmopolitan Club. They also wrote a song together, which remains unpublished, but Compton recorded it in his later years. That piece, The Clock of Time, was reportedly repurposed in 1922 by composer J. Berni Barbour as the salacious My Daddy Rocks Me (With One Steady Roll), the song which ultimately provided the name for the genre of Rock and Roll. The question would remain as to how Barbour got hold of that piece, which given Compton's scant compositional history was most likely driven by Jackson. A Kentucky native, Barbour was in Chicago by the late 1890s for schooling, and in 1903 co-founded with Nathaniel Clark Smith what is considered to be the first Black-owned and operated music publisher in America. He was certainly in Chicago when Compton ventured up there in 1906, followed shortly by Jackson over the next couple of years. So there were many opportunities for Barbour to have heard the piece, and perhaps even purchased it from Jackson. In any case, it provides another relatively direct tie between ragtime and its distant offspring rock and roll. After earning enough for his return trip, Jackson retreated back to New Orleans for a while. He once again reigned over Storyville and was sought out by virtually every musician who came into town. It is very plausible that those from St. Louis, New York or Chicago continually suggested how well he would do in any of those cities, but Tony was comfortable being the musical ruler of his musical kingdom, and resisted for some time. His favorite haunt during these years was Frank Early's Café. The exact time line is uncertain, but Jackson evidently divided his time between Chicago and New Orleans from around 1905 to 1909. In 1905, Tony reportedly made his first trip to Chicago with fellow pianist Bob Caldwell, whose playing paled in comparison to Jackson's. He made yet another trip to Chicago during the winter of 1907-1908, playing at [Bob] Russell and [Sidney] Dago’s Café on the Southside. Compton remembers seeing him in town a couple of times during his sporadic travels between Louisville and Chicago, but with no definitive dates. Roy Carew, on the other hand, distinctly remembers visiting Jackson in Chicago while he was on his way to family visit to Michigan in early 1909. By the time of the 1910 Census Tony was back in New Orleans living with his parents and sisters at 3928 Laurel, listed as a musician. He was also playing at spots outside of the District, and expanding his fan base. Exactly when he permanently moved to Chicago for certain is unclear. There are many reports that it was around 1912. If he did move then, Tony returned to New Orleans in 1913 upon the death of his mother. His absence in Chicago directories, presence in New Orleans papers, and a 1914 song publication suggests a more probable year of a northward migration as late 1913 or 1914 for the legendary pianist. Once in Chicago Jackson realized some freedoms that he did not have in the South. While it is not known if medical care there was much better in terms of treatment for his epilepsy, it was easier for him to be openly gay among his circle of musical friends without ridicule or scorn. Tony worked in a variety of establishments, including some associated with brothels. However, he was also more accessible in a sense for the general public to come and hear him perform in more traditional venues, which they did. Before long Tony hooked up once again with Glover Compton. They worked as a dual piano act from time to time over the next several years. According to Glover, he and Jackson exchanged many ideas as well, expanding the scope of how each of them played, although this point may be merely academic. Another occasional playing partner and friend was composer Shelton Brooks who was becoming known as a notable composer as well.Jackson's first gigs in Chicago were most frequently on State Street at Teenan Jones’ Elite No. 1 and Elite No. 2. His sister, Ida, and brother-in-law and second oldest sister, David and Maria Sutton, moved up to Chicago from New Orleans around 1915, and they moved in with Tony in his apartment at 4111 South Wabash Avenue where all of them lived for the brief remainder of his life. He also returned from time to time to Russell and Dago's place, as advertised on the card reproduced here. Around 1916 Jackson was heard playing in the Pekin Café, which had long been associated with Chicago composer and performer Joe Jordan, who he also became friends with. He spent much of his last few years there and at the DeLuxe as an occasional resident pianist. Original composition was an area in which Jackson was not lacking, but in which he did not have the same opportunity to exploit in print in New Orleans as he now did in Chicago. Compton recalled one 1915 number titled You're Such a Pretty Thing written for Glover's wife, Nettie Lewis. While it was not published it did become known by a few in Chicago. Compton recorded it during an interview in Chicago in 1956. But there was that one song of Tony's that kept making the rounds, and for which he was becoming increasingly famous. How it immortalized him is yet another fortuitous if contentious part of his story. As of 1915, composer Egbert Van Alstyne and Gustave Kahn were writing partners, and Van Alstyne was well known for a number of hits dating back to the turn of the century. Egbert was promoted to the position of Chicago manager of the publishing giant, Jerome H. Remick Company. Among the team's duties for Remick was to scout out new songwriting talent, or at least procure good tunes. The tune they discovered Jackson performing became one of the most unnecessarily controversial subjects of Van Alstyne's life, largely because of misunderstandings on multiple levels, most of which have now been cleared up thanks to the efforts of diligent Van Alstyne historian, Tracy Doyle. As it turns out, the two heard Tony Jackson performing his ditty Pretty Baby during one of their evening scouting missions in 1916, most likely to the Pekin or the DeLuxe. The melody was very charming and instantly attractive to Bert and Gus. However, since the current incarnation of the lyrics were written for Jackson's boyfriend, it obviously needed some major modifications to the text in order to be palatable for the Remick catalog. According to Morton in this LoC recordings, the supposed lyrics for the chorus ending went:You can talk about your jelly rolls, but none of them compare, With my baby, pretty baby of mine, pretty baby of mine. The Jelly Roll reference, which Morton was not shy about using in his own name, generally referred to male genitalia. So once a deal was struck, Kahn necessarily set to work on cleaning up the piece a bit, and Van Alstyne added a verse that was adapted from a previous song he had composed that had fallen flat. As a result, the original edition offended Jackson supporters since it gave both Kahn and Van Alstyne co-composer credit, which was just the same quite appropriate, given their considerable input into the song. This regrettable miscasting of the situation actually made some musicians hostile to Van Alstyne for most of the rest of his life, something he found to be hurtful. Never mind that subsequent stage performances of the piece made it a big hit for all of the composers, and for Ziegfeld Follies star Fanny Brice, or that Jackson's name appeared above Van Alstyne's on the cover. And while many say that both the composer and his lyrics were compromised, it would be clear now that some of the original lines would have been unsuitable for mass publication. It is clear, however, that Jackson may not have got his share of royalties, having been paid $250 outright for the rights to the tune. In any case, Bert's daughter stated that this misunderstanding haunted him until his death in 1951. This song led to nine others that would be published or recorded by other artists over the next five or more years. Among the standouts are Miss Samantha's Wedding Day, Waiting at the Old Church Door, and Some Sweet Day composed with Abe Olman and Ed Rose. Additional songs have been mentioned in various sources, but no manuscripts have surfaced for them. Jackson never made much from his composition sales, but he continued to gain increased notoriety in Chicago and beyond. There was potential for even more, but for the time being he was reportedly satisfied with being a lounge pianist - the best in Chicago. On this point Morton was quite clear in his interviews with Lomax. He claimed to have finally won a playing contest over Jackson, but the exact year or location is unclear, with "Jelly Roll" seeming to imply it was in Chicago. Morton was not, however, convinced he should have won. "I won a contest over Tony Jackson. That threw me in first line. I never believed that the contest was given to the right party, even though I was the winner. I always thought Tony Jackson should have had, I’m saying, the emblem as, as, the winner." As of the fall of 1918 Tony was living with his sister, Maria, and her husband, now at 4045 S. State Street, first flat in the rear. On his draft record filled out on September 12, he listed himself working as a pianist at the Pekin Theatre at 2700 State Street, and noted that he had weak eyes.Ada "Bricktop" Smith had been part of the Panama Trio in 1916, along with singers Cora Green and Florence Mills. The group broke up in 1917, but was re-formed in 1918 with Carolyn Williams in place of Bricktop. Smith would later reign over the black American nightclub scene in Paris in the 1920s. For one special engagement in 1918 the trio hired Tony to help them launch a tour of Canada and the West. So for a short while he was a member of the Panama Four. Tony declined to go on tour with them, however, perhaps remembering life on the road during his vaudeville days in 1904. Staying behind in Chicago he became acquainted with Joseph "King" Oliver and his band, but whether he sat in with that group is difficult to ascertain. In his one big brush with the law, Tony was arrested in August 1919 in connection with recent murders in the South Side, but was soon found to be innocent with a proper alibi, and quickly released. As of the January 1920 Census Tony was shown as the head of his household, and was listed as a musician working in (rough translation from the handwriting) a cabaret. Living with him was his sister Ida working as a house cleaner, sister Maria and her husband David Sutton working in the stock yards, and the Sutton's three children, Eloise, William and Rachel. Old habits die hard, and one that he cultivated in his teens caused him to die hard as well. Jackson, by the sum of many accounts, was an unapologetic alcoholic. He carried this trait with him from New Orleans to Chicago, and playing six to eight hours each night meant drinking eight to twelve hours each night, simply due to the nature of the work environment. The onset of prohibition in 1920 likely did little to slake his thirst for booze, and if it was available anywhere during the 1920s it was in Chicago. The quality and controlled potency of some of the alcohol during the beginning of prohibition after the stockpiles were used up has been called into question. Morton insisted that Jackson did not use "any dope" or narcotics of any kind. No matter the situation, the damage to Jackson's liver had been done years before. There was also the onset of other maladies, of which syphilis has been suggested, but many of these symptoms may have been exacerbated his epileptic issues. The onset of physical problems started to affect his voice, and then his finger dexterity, resulting in a marked decrease in his performance skills by early 1921. Jackson was terribly afflicted by March, suffering from extreme cirrhosis of the liver which had been progressing for years. He finally succumbed to these in April, not yet 39 years old. A notice of his funeral was found in the Black-published Chicago Defender of April 30th: Funeral services for Tony Jackson, popular songwriter and pianist, who died last week, were held in the chapel of the Jackson Undertaking Parlors, 29th and State streets, on Saturday. Funeral services were conducted by Rev. H. E. Stewart, pastor of Quinn Chapel Church. Miss Lizzie Hart Dorsey sang “The Rosary.” Prominent among those present at the services were Lovey Joe (Joe Jordan), Lilly Smith, Teenan Jones, Clarence Williams, Glover Crump [probably Compton], Tom Lemonier and the members of the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra. Interment was made in Oakwoods Cemetery.
Nearly a century later, Pretty Baby remains as Tony Jackson's most popular and sung tune - that we know of at least. No matter the origin of the piece, good music is good music, and virtually nobody ever said anything about the inimitable Tony Jackson that did not also utter those words - "good music."
Before commencing with other research on Jackson, the life of which snippets or variably sized synopses appear in a number of sources concerning Morton, the author gathered as much as possible from public and government records, information gathered from papers and libraries during a post-Katrina trip to New Orleans, similar information gathered from a Chicago trip, and Carew's fine articles in The Record Changer. After the outline was completed the gaps were filled in from a few sources, including Morton's sometimes questionable but still valuable remembrances (1938), Al Rose's fine book Storyville, New Orleans (1973), Nat Shapiro's engaging book Hear Me Talkin' To Ya (1966), and the handwritten notes and text by Rudi Blesh for and in They All Played Ragtime (1950-1971), which included long interviews with Glover Compton. |
![]() Isadore Harold Jentes (some sources cite Isobel or Isidore) was born to a German father and American mother, Henry and Rebecca Jentes, in Manhattan. He was a life-long New York city resident. Isadore was the oldest of four boys in the family, including Jerome A., Alfred Russel and Herbert J. Jentes. His father, Henry Jentes was a furrier by trade. By the early 1900s, Isadore had dropped his first name and adopted Harry from his middle name. In 1909 he is listed on a passenger manifest for the Prinz August Wilhelm to Cologne (Colon), Germany. Whether this was to visit his father's homeland or receive further musical training is unclear. He may have been out of the country for a while since no definitive record is found for him in the 1910 Census.
By the time Harry returned to the US he had become a proficient enough performer in his twenties to work in vaudeville and do some arranging. His first rag was Rhapsody Rag, a worthy effort that is still heard today on occasion. Starting in 1912 Harry teamed up with a number of lyricists and turned out some fine songs as well. One of those, I'll Be Welcome in My Home Town, became a big hit for lyricist William Tracey who also published the piece. It was reported that publisher Leo Feist paid around $250,000 to acquire the song that year (this price likely included some other properties), but Harry did not benefit quite so much from this transaction as he might have hoped. Still, he was looking ahead stylistically as well, writing material that was out of the ordinary for popular ragtime. Among those pieces was his California Sunshine of 1913, forecasting elements of jazz in its unusual progressions and riffs. His eclectic Soup and Fish Rag was also quite unique, and a challenge to perform. Jentes was also an early piano roll performer and one of the earliest ragtime recording artists on records, covering a great many tunes besides his own. Harry's works showed a leaning towards traditional jazz and beyond early on, incorporating advanced chords and rhythms into his rag and song performances, and when possible, in their published renditions. One of the earliest concerns he played for was the United States Music Company based in Chicago. When one analyzes his recorded performances in comparison with the printed score, it underscores his improvisational abilities, as well as those to create harmonies and progressions that composers like George Gershwin or Cole Porter would later include in their own works. Near the end of 1913 he secured a position on the staff of Broadway Music run by composer Will Von Tilzer, working as a composer and song plugger.Harry married his wife Mae around 1915, and also joined ASCAP which had been founded by many of his peers in 1914. One of his more significant hits came in 1915, Put Me to Sleep with an Old-Fashioned Melody (Wake Me Up with a Rag). That song made him even more in demand as a composer. The following year would see the innovative Bantam Step, an adaptable rag that could be played in a variety of ways, as he later demonstrated on a piano roll. Harry appears to have also become involved with the Werblow-Fisher Corporation, a publisher jobber and syndicate that placed sheet music in ten cent stores such Woolworths, Kress and Kresge, and even some department stores. He was mentioned in an advertisment in advance of their IPO (Initial Public Offering) in 1915 as they were looking for investors. His talent was enough to land him a position with Leo Feist, as announced in the December 9, 1916 Music Trade Review: "Harry Jentes, who has for the last two years been on the writing staff of the Broadway Music Corp., was recently added to the writing and professional staff of Leo Feist, Inc. Mr. Jentes has written two of the best novelty songs published this season. His first production for Leo Feist, Inc., was the fall novelty hit, 'He May Be Old, But He's Got Young Ideas,' which has been quickly followed with his latest Hebrew song, 'When Sara Saw Theda Bara,' a song which is predicted will be the season's sensation in its class. Mr. Jentes is best known by his 'Put Me to Sleep With an Old Fashioned Melody,' and the 'Fountain of Youth' song, and it is stated that he is working on ideas for several songs calculated to further his reputation."
In 1922 Harry became part of case law in a decision based on a lawsuit he had brought, as detailed in The Music Trade Review of April 1, 1922: "A recent decision by Judge Julian W. Mack in the United States District Court in the Southern District of New York is of much importance to songwriters and music publishers. The action was that of Harry Jentes against the music publishing firms of Jerome H. Remick & Co. and Irving Berlin, Inc., Jentes contending that he had placed a song called 'All By Myself' with Jerome H. Remick & Co., signing the usual contract and release. He further claimed that at a later date Irving Berlin, Inc., published a song called 'All by Myself' which he alleges was an infringement of his song placed with the Remick house. The court held that a songwriter, after having assigned a copyright of a number to a publisher, does not retain an equitable right to institute a suit for infringement. It therefore failed to see how Jentes was aggrieved insofar as he had assigned a song to Remick & Co., and if any suit was to be brought against Irving Berlin, Inc., Remick was the one to sue. The Remick Co. failing to bring such suit closes the case." Just the same, from around that time on Berlin would frequently use his name in the title to avoid further problems, such as Irving Berlin's Blue Skies.Jentes was one of the earlier performers to take advantage of the new medium of radio, and radio certainly liked him. His unique piano style was heard often on AT&T owned WEAF from New York starting in 1923, and soon after on WJZ and WOR. His fingers flew across the airwaves throughout the mid 1920s, and some of the stations he was on reached halfway across the country. As novelty piano took hold in the 1920s, Harry managed a few hits, many of which he played on the air. They were largely more popular on rolls or records than in print, given their inhrent difficulty. Among them, The Cat's Pajamas and Juggling the Ivories were innovative, and stood up fairly well to the output of novelty composers like Roy Bargy and Zez Confrey. Many of these compositions ended up in folio of novelty pieces published in 1924. Harry then contributed some music to a 1925 production of Earl Carroll's Vanities on Broadway, and possibly had something to do with the staging or script as well. But his fortunes diminished as the Great Depression took hold. In the 1930 Census Harry and Mae were still living in Manhattan, but now he was listed simply as a music clerk in a publishing house. There was no indication that the couple ever had children. A handful of pieces were composed by Jentes in the 1930s, but nothing significant. The 1940 Census shows that he and Mae had moved a few blocks to a Fort Washington Ave. apartment, and he was once again a composer of songs. His 1942 draft record shows no employer, and it was likely that he was either retired or self-employed. The last output from Harry was a 1946 tune co-written with Duke Leonard titled Lazy Mary. Little is known of his life beyond this point through his later years. Harry Jentes died of complications from pneumonia in 1958 at age 70. He was survived by his brothers and his wife. | |||||||
Nathan Johnson was born in Boston, Massachusetts to Swedish parents Bernard Francis Johnson and Matilda (Kulberg) Johnson. His parents had both immigrated to the United States in the 1870s. The transcription of the birth record shows a year of 1883, but all subsequent records, including Nathan's draft card, seem to indicate an 1882 birth year. Little is known of his education, but much of it was likely in the school system, and perhaps he was either self-taught on piano or may have received lessons at some point. His father, listed in 1883 as a sextant, was working as a janitor within the next few years, so income for the family was low. To add to their difficulties, Matilda died in 1889. While Bernard appears in the 1900 Census in Everett, a northern suburb of Boston, efforts to find Nathan that year turned up nothing definitive, as he had likely struck out on his own after his mother's death.In 1901 Bernard had remarried to Elsie B. Johnson, who like her predecessor was also a Swedish immigrant. Nathan was found living in nearby Beverly, Massachusetts that same year, still there in 1904. He eventually moved back in with his father and was living with the couple around 1910, was already working in a musical career, listed as a pianist for a theatrical company. It is known from later articles that he toured for a few years with various vaudeville companies. Starting in 1911 he had some of his music published, starting with Nat Johnson's Rag. The following year produced the dynamic Frisco Frazzle, and a year later he wrote what was essentially a syncopated advertisement for the famous Gold Dust brand of laundry soap which featured the Gold Dust Twins (two little black boys) on the box. They also appeared on the sheet music cover, making this one of the more unusual commercial jingles in American history. In his travels Nat went through and likely stayed in Chicago now and then. The fact that his pieces were primarily published by the Forster firm, which was based in Chicago, provides some information to that effect. However, one of his pieces published in 1913, O.P.H.S. Rag, was composed for with lyricist Will Mack, reportedly for or about Oak Park High School in Chicago. The school had been established in 1871 just after the great Chicago fire, and was relocated in 1907 to a better location. Andrew Barrett indicates that there was at least some possible motive, based on a competition called The National High School Football National Championship. It was not a real game, but a poll among sportswriters and other journalists. The song takes this competition with Everett High School in Johnson's native Massachusetts, and lyrically makes it into a real game. This self-published rag had very limited circulation. Calico Rag from 1914 is perhaps the best known Nat Johnson piece. Made up largely of arpeggios, it still presents very well. There were three, or perhaps even four remaining pieces that were committed to piano rolls in the mid 1910s. One of them Helendoro: The Fox Trot Rag, is a fox trot that may have had an accompanying waltz associated with it. They are two separate works with some possible thematic tie-ins, but none that are overtly evident. Who or what Helendoro is remains a mystery. While Johnson likely wrote these pieces in addition to Georgia Sweets and Dorothy Rag, there is speculation on whether he actually played them, perhaps during one of his Chicago visits.
Johnson was next found in Prescott according to his 1918 draft record, listing himself as a musician playing for the grand 900 seat Elks Theater of Yavapai County, also in Prescott. It was one of the technological showplaces of the southwest, and run by the Prescott Benevolent Protected Order of Elks (BPOE). The 1920 Census shows Nat in Silver City in the neighboring state of New Mexico. Two pieces of music published there, including lyrics by Rene Taylor, also confirm his presence. He also had been involved in the production of some musical comedies in Silver City, including one titled Over the Top which reportedly incorporated some of his own compositions. Johnson had contracted pulmonary tuberculosis somewhere along the way, and by mid 1920 he was staying at the Cottage Sanatorium in Silver City. Also with him was Miss Rene Taylor, with whom Nat wrote at least two songs. According to a letter discovered by researcher Mike Montgomery, in an effort to defer expenses at the sanatorium, Johnson wrote to the Edison Phonograph Company offering up his new song, If You'll Come Back, to them for recording. Nothing came from that effort, and the TB took his life within eighteen months. An obituary uncovered by Barrett lauded his performance skills, stating that "He seemed to be able to do anything with a piano but make it talk English." Nat Johnson currently occupies an unmarked grave in the Masonic Cemetery in Silver City. Mr. Barrett is working to rectify that by getting Nat proper recognition at his actual grave site. Thanks go to Southern California ragtime/novelty performer Andrew Barrett who researched some of the details on Johnson, including his birth and death records, and the piano roll information. His input was invaluable for this account of Johson's life. He was helped by Susan Berry of the Silver City Museum in Silver City, New Mexico. Some additional bits of information came from researcher and author Trebor Tichenor. The remaining core of information was from the author's own research in music archives, newspapers and public records. | |||||||
One of the lesser-regarded composers of the ragtime era by some historians, Joe Jordan may not have had the later prominence of Scott Joplin or Eubie Blake, but he still had the influence of them, and during his lifetime was certainly more successful in many regards than Joplin. In fact, some have equated Jordan's musical life as the one that Joplin should have had but was not able to achieve. While some of his efforts were actually made famous by other performers, he still needs to be regarded as both musician and entrepreneur, having lived a long and adventurous life full of notable milestones.
Born in Cincinnati, Ohio in 1882 to Zachariah Taylor Jordan and Josephine Jordan, Joseph was somewhat of a prodigy. He had one older sister, Clementine (6/1875). Zachariah (listed as Taylor in the 1880 Census) had been working as a cook for some time when his son was born. Joseph was surrounded by music at an early age as Cincinnati was full of bands, orchestras and choirs sponsored by all manners of organizations. In spite of considerable efforts by an early teacher, Joe seemed unable to pick up the ability to read music, learning primarily by rote but doing so with great facility. Around the mid-1890s the family moved to St. Louis where Joseph wandered around the town, perhaps listening to the earliest performances of ragtime performed by Tom Turpin or his contemporary Louis Chauvin.In his teens he found his way to Jefferson City, the capitol of Missouri, to study music at the Lincoln Institute (current day Lincoln University). His minimal skills included some theory, harmony, composition, and possibly notation; but shining most in performance on both piano and violin. It appears that Joe may have also taken some time in 1899 to travel with a small band. It is more than likely the same Joe Jordan that is mentioned in a September 30, 1899 article in The Freeman: Notes from A.G. Allen's New Orleans Minstrels: "We are still en route South and gathering in all the money. The Palmers, Ruby and Dan, have added new songs to their already hot act, the 'Black Eighth Regiment,' written by Mr. Palmer for his act is a hit nightly. Joe Jordan, leader of our orchestra is recovering from an attack of malaria fever. Moses Terry, our chef, sends regards to James Crosby. Grane, Hopkins, Isler, sends regards to all Cyclones and friends. The ghost still walks every Monday after dinner.
Joe's home in 1900, after he had completed his education, was supposedly St. Louis. The 1900 Census taken on June 5 shows him with his family in St. Louis. Zachariah was running his own restaurant at that time. Joe was listed as a musician with a birth year of 1880. That he does not show up in the 1880 Census with the family negates that as a potential possibility. Surprisingly, in the same Census taken three days later in Chicago on June 8th where he lists himself as a musician, this time questionably claiming to be 19. He was either there to perform or for a visit, as his home base was still St. Louis.
From 1900 to 1904, Joe spent a lot of time in St. Louis, now learning even more from the Turpin, a considerable force of nature, and performing regularly with Chauvin and Sam Patterson, and possibly Charles Thompson at times. Jordan, Chauvin, Patterson and Turpin formed a quartet that played everything from the St. Louis clubs to church socials, and anywhere that two to four pianos could be found. He also played violin and sometimes percussion with the ten-piece Taborin Band. Jordan was tall at nearly 6' and handsome, so he certainly had little trouble finding places to perform, from the brothels to the popular black entertainment venues. In 1902 the youth is supposed to have made his first trip to New York City where he met and collaborated with "coon song" composer Ernest Hogan, who sometimes billed himself as the "unbleached American." The story is that Joe allegedly contributed to the score of Hogan's newest stage play, Rufus Rastus. It was Hogan's attempt to boost his name further following his success in Will Marion Cook's Clorindy a few years earlier. However, Joe's reported role in this in 1902 is doubtful, as the play did not open on the road until 1906. It is more likely that the single song of his in the production, Oh Say, Wouldn't It Be A Dream composed to lyrics by Earle C. Jones, was interpolated into the traveling version of the production during rehearsals in late 1905. Rufus Rastus lasted only eight performances on Broadway.Once back in St. Louis Jordan, Patterson and Chauvin wrote an ambitious musical titled Dandy Coon in 1903, and they attempted to stage it in St. Louis and take it on the road. Featuring a cast of thirty and a "beautiful octoroon chorus," the show folded on the road in Des Moines, Iowa after just a few performances. Only scant remnants of the production remain. At this point Jordan departed for Chicago to seek out work. Joe's efforts were validated when he got a job at the Pekin Beer Garden in Chicago at the corner of 27th and State Street. In mid 1904 Jordan briefly left that post to return to St. Louis where he reportedly played at the Louis and Clark Exposition on the pike at the Faust Restaurant. By late in the year Jordan was back in Chicago, where he would be theoretically based for at least the next three decades. His prowess at orchestral arrangements and music direction quickly found him hired by Robert T. Motts who owned the beer garden which had morphed into the influential and highly regarded Pekin Theater, one of the earliest African-American owned enterprises of its type in the United States. The Pekin Rag was written for the venue. During his tenure there, Jordan performed and composed many works for the productions staged by the Pekin Theater Stock Company, and gained the attention of black performers and writers in New York as well. While still primarily based in Chicago, Joe made frequent trips to New York and collaborated with many of the notable writers there, including Will Cook who had followed Clorindy with the first truly successful black musical on early Broadway, In Dahomey. In 1905 Hogan asked him back there for another bold collaboration with rising star James Reese Europe, resulting in The Memphis Students, a group comprised of seventeen singers, dancers and musicians. This troupe was successful in both the United States and on a subsequent European tour (Jordan did not participate) Ford Dabney also became involved with the group, and their success eventually led to great opportunity for black musicians in New York City, encouraging many of them to form the famous Clef Club in 1910. Back in Chicago by 1906, Jordan now graduated to the post of Musical Director for the Pekin. He briefly returned to New York again in 1907 to collaborate on his first major Broadway work with composer James T. Brymn and lyricists Aubrey Lyles and Flournoy Miller. Their production of The Husband which opened in August 1907 ran for only 8 performances, not the last time that Jordan would see such a disappointing end to his efforts. Back in Chicago Joe went headlong into his work at the Pekin. While he turned out a number of good rag compositions during the next few years, such as his J.J.J. Rag and his famous That Teasin' Rag which would also be made into a song, Jordan also contributed waltzes, comic songs, and notable stage pieces into the musical world. One of these would secure his fame as well as its performer's launch.Disregarding the myth perpetuated in the stage play/movie Funny Girl, comedienne Fannie Brice did not audition with Second Hand Rose (eleven years before it was composed!) and did not debut as a pregnant chorus girl. It was Jordan's newest song composed with Cook, Lovie Joe, that gave Fannie her first great success on the stage of the New Amsterdam Theater for the 1910 Ziegfeld Follies. Jelly Roll Morton claims that the title refers to a great lover (perhaps even implicating himself). Other sources claim he was a real person who owned a New York saloon in the years before the song debuted. Brice evidently worked very hard on rehearsals of the piece, but Florenz Ziegfeld's stage manager, Abe Erlanger, thought it to be a trifle, and Brice's blackface interpretation as even worse. She angrily retorted that she knew much more about negro dialects than he did as she lived on 128th Street which bordered Harlem. Both she and the song were quickly dropped from the Follies, but Ziegfeld insisted they both return over Erlanger's objections. It was launched on the road in Atlantic City with Brice in blackface, but wearing a very tight dress over her large figure instead of the one Ziegfeld had consigned for her. After a performance comprised of uncomfortable wiggling but stupendous singing, she pulled up the skirt, knocked her knees together, then ran off stage with a look of horror. The result was tumultuous applause and eight curtain calls. Jordan was outside the theater as blacks were not allowed in, but was so moved that he reportedly wept at the piece's reception. Once backstage, Erlanger conceded the moment by showing her his straw hat with a hole in it that he had broken while applauding her. Brice kept that hat as a poignant souvenir for the rest of her life. Jordan obtained a passport in Hamburg in October 1910, having left on a tour in mid September. He is listed as a music composer and still a Chicago resident. Curiously the notation "Traveling in Russia" was also on the passport, but if he actually went there on this particular trip is hard to confirm. He spent many months abroad in Germany performing with King and Bailey's musical Chocolate Drops, and later in many of the music halls around the United Kingdom. By mid 1911 he was back in Chicago, staying at his post as the Pekin's musical director for at least two years with one more brief trip to England in the interim. In June 1912, with business associate Tom Clark, Jordan opened The Mecca Buffet at 3334 State Street in Chicago.
It was reported that at some point in 1913 during a New York visit that Jordan played with both Charley Thompson and Eubie Blake for the first time, but not for the last. After involvement with other touring productions in 1914, his passport was renewed in 1915 for a trip to England and France, and perhaps Russia. Records indicate that this tour lasted form April of 1915 to May of 1916. Once back from Europe, Joe parlayed his financial gain - some reports claim that he may have been approaching millionaire status - into an interesting enterprise - Real Estate. So it was in 1917 that he opened the three-story J. Jordan Building, an office building constructed with an investment of $220,000, at the corner of State Street and 36th in Chicago. It was in a predominantly black area of the city, but one that had some level of affluence just the same. The main entrance was topped by a name plaque with an elaborate lyre as an homage to the music which allowed him this indulgence. Black citizens were inspired by the effort, and many started in on enterprises of their own boosted by Jordan's success. Primarily an office building, Jordan never lived or worked there, and he didn't even own it for very long. Jordan's 1918 draft card shows him not as a musician, but in the business of Real Estate and Safe Deposit. In an August 1, 1954, article in the Chicago Daily Tribune concerning the demolition of many south side buildings in the area of State and 35th, Abram Wilson who was known as Red Dick recalled the area at its peak, and Jordan's business in particular. "Not one place ever was closed. 'Nobody had a key in those days,' says Red Dick. But Negroes did discover that locks had to be placed on their valuables. And Joe Jordan, a well known band leader married to a Parisian woman, erected an office building and made a tidy profit renting safe deposit boxes." It also references his aforementioned wife named Nellie, who was a white French citizen. It is difficult to locate her in subsequent listings, but that is a part of Joe's continuing story as well. It seems that Nellie somehow got Joe involved in an international smuggling scandal. An article in the Chicago Tribune of March 31, 1917, sheds a great deal of light on this first marriage and some of Jordan's travels at that time: Jordan, whom "black belt" authorities say is worth $250,000, said last night that the jewels were declared to customs inspectors in New York and that his wife was allowed to bring them in without duty as a British subject. "I married Mrs. Jordan, whom I met in London in theatrical work, eighteen months ago [October 1915]," said Jordan. "We came to New York and the jewels were declared. Recently I had a chance to make a god real estate deal, and my wife consented to allow me to sell a $10,000 necklace. I took it to a loop jewelry firm and they notified the customs agents. They thought they had discovered an international smuggling plot and hurried to my safety vault. The cashier of the bank, John Hardle, called me up, and I came over and unlocked the vault. They took me to the federal building, questioned me, and let me go." Mrs. Jordan's father, an East Indian merchant, now in New York, is a millionaire, according to those well acquainted with the Jordans. It is also said that Joe Jordan, the merchant's son-in-law, received $50,000 when he married the merchant's daughter. Jordan is now building a three story office building at Thirty-fifth and State streets. ...His father is the proprietor of a poolroom at 3232 South State street. Note that in a follow-up article in late May that it was reported that all of the jewels were returned to Nellie without any apologies for the action.It was hard to keep Joe grounded in the business world for very long. In 1918 Jordan was lured back to New York by Cook to be not only the director of the New York Syncopated Orchestra but its financial manager as well. Spending time in both Chicago and New York for the next few years (1919 and 1920 passport issues show him still as a Chicago resident), Joe eventually moved to New York, selling his building to Louis B. Schmidt. (It would finally be torn down in 1986 in spite of valiant efforts to preserve it.) This allowed him more opportunities not just for stage performance, but to work on records as well. This put him near center stage at the beginning of the jazz era. In fact, he was actually heard ON the stage, just not as he had planned. In 1917 the Original Dixieland Jass Band (later Jazz Band) fronted by trumpeter Nick LaRocca, clarinetist Larry Shields and pianist Henry Ragas started recording in New York. One of their first big hits was the Original Dixieland Jazz Band One Step which went by variously modified titles. "Original" was not entirely true, as the trio of the piece was also the verbatim trio of Jordan's That Teasin' Rag. Jordan heard this in 1918 and brought suit against LaRocca and the band, quickly winning a judgment that resulted in the records being recalled and subsequently labeled The Original Dixieland One Step: Introducing "That Teasin' Rag". The introducing part is obviously far from true, but it would make for a similar gag in 1937 when Benny Goodman released Sing Sing Sing (With a Swing): Introducing "Christopher Columbus". In any case, Jordan also received some financial compensation as well as composer credit, a deal which benefited him for many years. At some point prior to 1920 Joe and Nellie were divorced, but the terms of any settlement were kept out of the press. Around 1920 he met his future and final wife, Illinois native Irene Hudlin. With Joe being on the move so much it is difficult to find him in the 1920 Census records, but other records such as his frequent passport renewals and newspaper mentions did help when tracing Jordan's private activities and whereabouts. Joe and Irene were married in 1922 and Lowell Henry Jordan was born the following year in Chicago and Marie Jordan would follow in 1924. However, the Jordans would soon be settled in Harlem, New York City, at one point living at 47 W. 127th Street.
The composer finally was heard on disc, as he recorded four sides in 1926 with a newly formed group called The Ten Sharps and Flats. Two were on the prestigious Columbia Records label, among the earliest electronic recordings by a black group, and two others were released under the lesser known Banner Records imprint. Joe released additional sides under other names as well. The group performed well into 1927, and were featured in the traveling company of the show Rarin' to Go playing interstitial jazz tunes and the intermission. In 1928 pioneering stride pianist and composer James P. Johnson composed his answer to Sissle and Blake's show Shuffle Along, calling it Keep Shufflin'. He hired Jordan as conductor and perhaps arranger, leading a group that included Johnson, his protégé Fats Waller, Jabbo Smith and other prominent jazz musicians. After a successful run, Jordan took some of the band on tour as a new formation of The Ten Sharps and Flats. Back in New York just ahead of the start of the Great Depression, steady stage work was getting harder to find. However, Joe still had kept some of his investments outside the stock market so he would not lose it all when the financial structure finally collapsed. Some of that capital was invested into a new show called Deep Harlem which opened in January 1929 at the Biltmore Theater. With a book by Salem Whitney and Homer Tutt, and lyrics by Tutt and veteran Henry Creamer, there was a lot of hope for this all black production. However it was pulled after only eight performances. During the year and into the early 1930s Jordan and his band were heard over the airwaves in New York from time to time, plus many appearances with him as an accompanist to an instrumentalist or singer. In the 1930 Census the family is found living in Manhattan on West 112th Street, with Joe listed as a band musician. They also had one boarder living with them, a Manhattan elevator operator. Evidently eager to still have a go at Broadway he engaged in a new show, Brown Buddies, a "Musical Comedy in Sepia." The core of the music was composed with Millard Thomas, but it also featured tunes by his colleagues Shelton Brooks, Ned Reed, Porter Grainger, J.C. Johnson, J. Rosamund Johnson, George A. Little, Arthur Sizemore and Edward G. Nelson. Opening at the Liberty Theatre in October it ran a fairly solid 111 performances into January 1931. The show didn't hurt for star power either, with dancer Bill "Bojangles" Robinson and singers Ada Brown and Adelaide Hall commanding the stage. In the summer of 1931 Joe was asked to help orchestrate some of the numbers for the somewhat depleted Ziegfeld Follies of that year. Things were tough for musicians and the American people in general over the next couple of years, but with the election of Franklin Delano Roosevelt in late 1932, opportunities for enterprising Americans were clearly around the corner, and Joe was most certainly one of them. Starting in 1933 Jordan led the WPA-sponsored Federal Theater Project's Negro Unit Orchestra throughout the 1930s. In 1935 he assisted with orchestrations for the Broadway revue Smile at Me which lasted nearly a month at the Fulton Theatre. For one production in 1936 which included James P. Johnson, Asadata Dafora and Porter Grainger, the Negro Unit Orchestra provided music for a production of William Shakespeare's Macbeth as staged by a young Orson Welles.
A great triumph came in 1939 when Jordan at last performed in Carnegie Hall, leading a 75 piece symphony orchestra and 350 voice choir for the ASCAP Silver Jubilee Festival. He had finally joined ASCAP just in advance of the event. The group opened the week of celebration with Left Every Voice and Sing by Rosamond and H. Weldon Johnson. In November 1939 it was announced that Joe had been hired by the (W.C.) Handy Brothers' Music Company to work in the arranging department, and as a liaison with broadcasting and recording concerns. After the Jubilee groups disbanded, Jordan once again found relevance and fulfilling work with many black Army bands and USO groups during World War II. He also did some benefits for the Red Cross. His 1942 Draft record shows him living at 188 W. 135th Street in Harlem, and employed by the Rubsam and Horrmann Brewery Company in Stapleton, Staten Island. Whether this was just a stop-gap job or if he was working as an investor or similar capacity is not clear. Part of the war was spent by Captain Joe Jordan posted at Fort Huachuca in Arizona to oversee the morale boosting needs of the Army's black soldiers. While there he organized bands and orchestra, wrote and arranged shows, staged dances, and formed a vocal group called the Deep River Boys. At one point racial tensions were running high on the base, and Jordan diffused them by distraction, starting a new show that involved everybody and kept them quite busy. He was forced to retire from his post in 1944 due to a proclamation from President Franklin Delano Roosevelt requiring personnel to step down at age 60, and he was 62 at the time. Still, he stayed on for another year in Arizona, and some copyrights and copyright renewals appear from that location in the 1945 Library of Congress records, including one written for the fort. After the war was over Joe was still musically viable, but in the changing musical world of New York City, less relevant in many respects. So it was that in the late 1940s Jordan sought out change again, migrating to Tacoma Washington where he would spend the rest of his life. In 1955 he surfaced as a lounge attendant for the state senate in Olympia. A picture of him playing during a break was accompanied by a statement that, "Once bitter about the 'color barrier,' Joe now feels prejudice is waning because of 'something changing in people's hearts.' This was right on the cusp of the Civil Rights movement in the Southeast United States, so he was definitely in touch with the pending change. Joe soon became involved with real estate once again in the late 1950s, and with great success, but he also continued to compose and publish songs. Among his final compositions was one crafted, perhaps commissioned, for the 100th anniversary of the founding of Tacoma. Historian Johnny Maddox also befriended Jordan during this period, and eventually came into a large number of his musical scores and private acetate recordings. The number of pieces he wrote varies, depending on source, from over 600 to perhaps 2000, most of them unpublished yet many of them still copyrighted with the Library of Congress. Another emerging ragtime figure to seek out Jordan was Robert Darch, who after working diligently to mine Jordan for information on his life story made a bold effort to secure his place in ragtime history via a recording. In 1962, Bob arranged a Florida recording session for Joe along with his two long-ago friends from New York and St. Louis, Charley Thompson and Eubie Blake. The resulting session, one of the first of its kind in glorious stereo, was issued as a special broadcast set and edited down to the Golden Reunion in Ragtime record on the Stereoddities label. It was reportedly one of the most joyous occasions of his later life, as well as Thompson's, and some of his great history is revealed through anecdotes along with solo and group performances.Jordan also found renewed fame with later editions of the pioneering book They All Played Ragtime by jazz historian Rudi Blesh and his friend Harriet Janis. In spite of all this, Joe stuck mostly to real estate and political involvement in Tacoma, performing only from time to time. Graduating from the position of senate lounge attendant, Jordan became the first black to serve in the Washington State Attorney General's office. His wife Irene passed on in the mid 1960s. Since the early 1960s Joe had known Tacoma pianist Lois Delano with whom he had done some mentoring and writing. She, in turn, recorded an album of Joe Jordan's pieces, The Music of Joe Jordan (Arpeggio Records No. 1205), two years ahead of Joshua Rifkin's famous record of Joplin piano rags. According to the press concerning the album, "Miss Delano studied for several years with Jordan who was 86 when this recording was made in 1968. She draws on his work from 1902 to 1920, concentrating on his rags, but including some songs and instrumental compositions. Jordan had a pleasant melodic flair and Miss Delano gives his pieces a lively treatment. On most of the selections she uses a strong, positive attack that eventually produces a sense of sameness, but she gives an appropriately sensitive interpretation to the gently glimmering 'Whippoorwill Rag.'" Few copies of this rare disc are in circulation today, but it has been featured on St. Louis station KDHX. There are three late events in his life that featured his playing. One was a 1970 concert with composer Shelton Brooks at the Wilshire Ebell Theater in Southern California arranged by historian Richard Zimmerman. Next was a Jazz and Ragtime Festival at the Nicholson Pavillion in Ellensburg, Washington on November 7, 1970, featuring Jordan, Eubie Blake, Bob Darch, guitarist John Lee Hooker, and the Ramsey Lewis Trio. Jordan's final performance was in Omaha, Nebraska on May 3, 1971 at Bill Bailey's Bar hosted by John and Janice Cleary. Joe Jordan finally left us on September 11, 1971, survived by his son, daughter and five grandchildren. He left behind a great legacy of important musical contributions and positive racial advances in his wake. While Jordan is still not in the same category as Scott Joplin in terms of piano rags, he certainly achieved considerably more over a much broader range of disciplines, and should continue to be recognized for those achievements as a musician and a person, not just as a black citizen. And that remains as one of his finest crowning achievements. Recognition should be given to young ragtime performer and historian Adam Swanson, who as a teenager had already compiled impressive amounts of musical data on many composers, and some of the most comprehensive song lists available for those composers, Jordan being but one of them. He was also assisted by the legendary Johnny Maddox who knew Jordan well. Thanks to both for their contributions to this biography. Other considerable research on Jordan's life which added to this entry was done by Rick Benjamin of the Paragon Ragtime Orchestra, who have collectively produced a great CD of Jordan's work. | |||||||||||||
Mel B. Kaufman (sometimes Kaufmann on sheet music covers) had one of the more unusual sidelines, or actually primary job, for a musician of his time - that of undergarment salesman. Born in New Jersey to a Canadian father, cigar wholesaler Jacob M. Kaufman, and a Louisiana born mother, Ida (Bernd) Kaufman, Thanks to Andrew Greene of the Peacherine Ragtime Orchestra for locating and confirming dates of a few of the pieces listed here.
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Frank C. Keithley represents one of those frustrating cases in ragtime where somebody with a clear inherent musical talent suddenly disappears from view, whether from a change of fortune or attitude. He left behind only a few rags and a few clues. Frank was born in the frontier town of Madison, Iowa to farmer James Montgomery Keithley and his wife Florence A. (French) Keithley. He was the oldest of three boys including brothers Fred F. Keithley (1879) and James G. Keithley (1882). No direct relationship was found with the well known Kentucky composer E. Clinton Keithley. Information on Keithley was derived from public records, periodicals, newspapers and other scattered sources, as very little was available in traditional texts. As always, if anybody has additional useful information on Keithley, please let us know so it can credited and be included. |
Edward Harry Kelly was born right into the ragtime environment, literally, above the family-owned saloon in the Mechanic's Hotel at 1300 West 9th Street near Union Depot in Kansas City, Missouri in 1879 to Irish immigrants Edward and Frances Kelly. In the 1880 Census, the senior Kelly is listed as a hotel keeper, having bought the Mechanic's Hotel several years prior. His brother James and sister Mary also lived with them and worked as hotel staff. Harry (who curiously is shown as E. Henry in the 1880 Census) was the oldest in the family of two boys and two girls, including Mae E. (9/1880), Frances C. (4/1884) and Joseph A. (11/1889). Two other siblings had died in infancy. Edward was given the requisite piano lessons Some of the elements of Harry Kelly's life were obtained from the Kansas City Public Library which has some of his papers and other history, and the Kansas City Historical Society. The remaining information was researched by the author from public records, period texts and sheet music. | ||||||
Edwin F. Kendall represents another case of a working musician/composer who had some moderate success, yet very little is known about him. There are still questions on his history and perhaps some more information to be discovered. This is what the author has uncovered as of 2009. Kendall was born in or near New York City to Martin and Rose Kendall, both immigrants from England. The most probable birth period for him is the first quarter of 1870 as he shows as 10 years old in June of 1880, 40 in April of 1910 and 49 in January of 1920. (Curiously, no date was listed in the usually accurate 1900 Census.) In the 1880 Census Edwin is shown as attending school, but also working in some capacity, although the occupation written down is difficult to discern. Thanks go to roll collector and historian Robert Perry for information on Kendall's Connorized rolls. | ||||||||||
There are instances where a ragtime composer is known largely for one piece, even if they composed a few others. In these cases, particularly when they lived apart from publishing centers or places where demographic records were not always properly kept, it becomes a frustrating journey to locate information of any substance on that composer, especially when they warrant a better accounting of their life. Still, it is sometimes worth the frustrating journey just to flesh them out. In this case, through the efforts of this author and the subject's great grandson Vann Chapman, at least some semblance of a biography has been assembled that gives a view into the life of such a composer.Lloyd Kidwell was born to Albert Kidwell and Matilda "Tillie" A. Kidwell in Covington, Kentucky, just across the Ohio River from Cincinnati, Ohio. Albert was listed as a motorman in city directories, with the family living downtown first at 721 Main, then 607 Main by the mid 1890s. By the time of the 1900 Census, Lloyd had a younger brother and sister, Raymond (7/1891) and Doris (8/1898). Albert was by then working as a motorman, perhaps an engineer, for what appears to be the SF RR (not likely the Santa Fe, however). The level of musical training that Lloyd received is not known. Some may have been from the public schools, but whether there was any training in harmony or theory is uncertain. Ultimately it was known that he played piano, accordion and trumpet. On August 6, 1908 Lloyd, then 19, was married to Charlotte "Lottie" Jacobs, daughter of James M. and Lizzie Jacobs, who was only 16. Their marriage is not listed in Kentucky, where consent for marriage of a minor was required, so there is a possibility of an elopement in Ohio, which would explain the lack of records, although this cannot be confirmed. Lloyd was working as a pianist by this time, likely for vaudeville theaters in Covington and Cincinnati. In the 1910 Census the couple is listed in Covington at 54 Russel Avenue with Lloyd as a theater musician.In 1906 Lloyd had teamed up with fellow teenager Roy Steventon to compose The Powder Rag which they self-published in Cincinnati. However, in 1908 Charles L. Johnson released his own Powder Rag which given Johnson's stature saw much wider circulation than that of the youths. Finally, in 1911 they retooled and retitled the piece as Red Onion Rag. This is the first known piece of this title, with ironically another Red Onion Rag released the following year by composer Abe Olman. There is no known connection with the famous Red Onion Saloon in Skagway, Alaska, and it was more likely a nod to the current vogue of food-named pieces. Published in Cincinnati by Associated Music Publishers, this edition of the piece saw fairly good circulation for a number of years, and found its way to a few piano roll renditions, but was often confused with the more popular Olman work. Another piece from around that time, This Old Town, was his first with lyricist Haven Gillespie, but a surviving copy of this was difficult to locate. Gillespie would eventually co-write many songs with others, including Santa Claus is Coming to Town with J. Fred Coots in 1934. The Kidwell's daughter Dorothy was born in 1911. Lloyd would release a couple more pieces over the next two years, including his only other syncopated instrumental, Hustling Rag composed with Steventon, which was also recorded on a piano roll. In 1914 he wrote three songs with Gillespie, then his published output suddenly ceased. This may have been due to the amount of work he was engaged in as a musician, as he started traveling the country with vaudeville troupes in 1916 or 1917. One of those was reportedly the curiously named Pansy Entertainers, which included some black-face routines, and in which Lloyd played the trumpet. Virtually nothing exists on them today. On his 1917 draft record, he and the family were living at 828 Stolman in Covington. Lloyd was described as medium height and stout with bad eyes and a weak heart, exempting him from service. He was working for a Cincinnati opera house, most likely a vaudeville theater. The Kidwells welcomed son Lloyd Wesley into the world in 1918. As of the 1920 Census they were living at 16 W. 12th Street, and Lloyd was still listed as a theater musician.
Another composition of Lloyd's, the aforementioned Japanese Lullaby, appeared in 1923, although it was not located in published form. That same year, he opened a store at what was also apparently his home address, 1912 Madison Avenue, in Covington. As noted in the trade magazine Presto on October 27, 1923: "Lloyd Kidwell, pianist and composer, recently opened a sheet music store on Madison Avenue, Covington, Ky. Mr. Kidwell is well-known to the public, as he has toured the country in vaudeville. As a composer, he has scored a big success with his new song, 'Japanese Lullaby.' " The song was also recorded on a Gennett disc by Justin Huber's Hotel Gibson Dance Orchestra, for which Lloyd was the pianist, on March 26, 1923.
During his tenure with the music store Kidwell wrote a number of other compositions which remained unpublished and uncopyrighted to his death. Four of them were committed to demo recordings done by Fidelity Records in Cincinnati, likely in 1923, and sung by Colorado born amateur singer John Grefer. Given the locale and that all four pieces were Kidwell's, he was likely the accompanist as well. Fidelity was possible a Wurlitzer enterprise, as they were located in the Wurlitzer building at 121 E. Fourth Street. Following the mid 1920s some of the trail on Kidwell grows cold, but there are a few snapshots of his later life. The music store does not appear in city directories following 1923, so it was likely a short-lived enterprise. One final published composition, a light novelty titled Tickle 'Em, appeared in 1928 in Cincinnati from the Leffingwell Music Studio. Lloyd continued to play with various orchestras and traveling groups throughout the 1920s into the 1930s. In the early 1930s Lloyd had relocated for a time to the long-established Arlington Hotel in Hot Springs, Arkansas, reportedly a favorite destination of gangster Al Capone. While there Kidwell played with Paolo Grosso and His Orchestra,
Possibly due to travel, Lloyd cannot be located in Covington directories of the 1930s, nor does he register in the 1930 Census. The Kidwell's daughter Dorothy moved to the area of Manchester, Georgia, possibly in the late 1920s, and was married to Everett Montgomery soon after. Wesley was found to be on his own at age 19, residing with various people in Covington from 1937 to 1942, and living in the Suburban Federal Savings and Loan Building during the war. He later moved to Orlando Florida. Charlotte died, most likely in the 1930s but the year is uncertain, during a visit to her daughter in Georgia, leaving Lloyd a widow. He eventually was remarried to Nora Kidwell. In the late 1930s Kidwell settled back down in Covington for a while. According to his obituary he became involved in civic affairs, and directed the first "playground orchestra" comprised of Covington youth. He was the chairman of the organization and steering committees of the Order of Covington Eagles, a local civic group, and became district director of the order as well. Lloyd ran unsuccessfully for city commissioner in 1943. The next that is heard of him is his death at his daughter's home in Manchester, Georgia, which as implied by his obituary is where he spent his final few years. It appears that Nora survived him by over two decades, dying in Cincinnati in February 1978. To this day the Red Onion Saloon in the gold rush town of Skagway, Alaska, enjoys ragtime performances of either version of their namesake rag, of which Lloyd's composition the author had the privilege of performing there in September 2009 just prior to compiling this biography. Many of the elements of Lloyd Kidwell's life and the photographs were provided by great grandson Vann Chapman through family artifacts and remembrances. Also to collector Jeremy Stevenson who located Tickle 'Em, and Andrew Barrett who identified Lloyds rolls with the assistance of Mike Montgomery. The remainder was researched and/or confirmed by the author through public records, periodicals, publisher records and similar sources. | |||||||||||||||||
Frank Henri Klickmann spent much of the early part of his life where he originated, in Chicago, Illinois. Born to a German immigrant Rudolph Klickmann (frequently misspelled as Klickman) and his Illinois native wife Carolina (Laufer) Klickmann, he was the second of five children, including Emily (12/1881), Ida (6/1887), Robert (12/1890) and Florence (7/1899). Music was an important part of their family. His older sister Emily was listed as a Music Teacher at age 19, when Frank was still an errand boy at 15, yet he was playing and studying music at that time. The McKinley Music Co., of Chicago, Ill., has taken quick advantage of the present international situation by publishing a new song by Caspar Nathan, music by Henri Klickman, entitled "Uncle Sam Won't Go to War." The new song has made quite an impression on the profession, many prominent singers having made arrangements to use it. The chorus, reproduced herewith, illustrates the real character of the piece:
Uncle Sam won't go to war, That's not what the U. S. got united for; Let all Europe fight, if they must, But the Yankee motto is "In God we trust." When war clouds roll by once more, Things will he the same as before; Our country's always free, No matter what may be - Uncle Sam won't go to war. It did not matter that the thrust of the song would prove to be incorrect in two years, as many in the country held that same anti-war stance even as "The Great War" was being won with American help. Klicmann's notable ragtime output in the mid 1910s included his High Yellow Cakewalk during a brief revival of that dance in 1915, and Smiles and Chuckles, a good seller in 1917.
The difficulties of working on the road, or even at home, and continuing to supply material for Biese's orchestra finally overcame Henri. In May 1917 it was announced in the trades that: "F. Henri Klickmann, the composer-arranger, has severed connections wit the Paul Biese orchestra in order to devote all of his time to arranging. He is making his headquarters with the McKinley Music Commpany." Henri had already worked for them for many years, but was now able to commit to a more stable contracting situation. An article in The Music Trade Review of November 30, 1918, outlined an example of how a hit song, this one involving Klickmann, was made, and it was not too far off the mark from a historical perspective of Tin Pan Alley production: It is decidedly interesting once in a while to discover just how and why a good thing is done. The revealing of the genesis of a good idea is always worth while. Out of the mire and mush of the popular music it is refreshing now and then to find a fine gem like "Keep Your Face to the Sunshine and Behind You the Shadows Will Fall," which issued from the press of the McKinley Music Co. a few months ago. President Wm. McKinley the other day told its story to The Review, and as the song is meeting with the success it deserves the tale is worth the retelling.
Mr. McKinley is a most careful reader of the music papers, both trade and-professional, and in one of them he found a summary of an address by Macklyn Arbuckle, the well-known actor, in which he dilated upon the duty of cheerfulness and helpfulness on the part of actors and other people in war times and in other times. In the course of it he said: *'I have a motto in life. I have always tried to live up to it. 'Keep your face to the sunshine, and the shadows will fall behind you.' " "That's good," quoth Mr. McKinley, who is known as somewhat of a sun-spreader himself. The next moment he thought, "That would be a fine idea for a song." Then he called for a conference which was speedily answered by Paul Armstrong, who writes lyrics, Henri Klickman, who writes music, Mr. Sawyer, who arranges, and E. T. Root. This group has been in at the birth of many a good McKinley song. They liked the idea and it kindled the fires of inspiration. The lyric writer first lyricized the title and then got busy on the words of the song. The composer struck a few chords and soon the melody evolved. In a week or two the song went forth on its mission of peppizing sunniness. That's the way things are done down at the McKinley plant. Frank's 1918 draft record shows McKinely Music as his employer in the capacity of a composer and arranger of music. The Klickmanns were living at 1501 E. 55th Street near downtown. His big hits of 1918 included Sweet Hawaiian Moonlight in both instrumental and song form, and the topical Let the Chimes of Normandy Be Our Wedding Bells. Some of Frank's arrangements also made it to New York publishers of the time, including the prestigious Waterson, Berlin & Snyder. As of the 1920 Census Frank and Jeannette were shown living in downtown Chicago at 1443 Rosemont Avenue, with Frank (as Henri) listed as a composer of music. He also wrote a ffun variation on his earlier hit, producing I've Got the Sweet Hawaiian Moonlight Blues.One of his more unsung but musically influential arranging jobs was putting many of Zez Confrey's into a more readable form for accompanied instruments for Jack Mills in the early 1920s, in addition to arranging works for other Mills composers. His most frequent lyricist by this time was the prolific Harold G. Frost (1893-1959) more widely known as Jack Frost. They turned out a considerable number of well-crafted tunes in the late 1910s and early 1920s. Among the groups he arranged for frequently were the Six Brown Brothers, for which a number of saxophone-themed songs were composed as well. He also did a lot of work for stage star Eddie Cantor. Some of Frank's more interesting output involved a blending of classical and impressionist music forms with more popular genres. Klickmann also joined ASCAP in 1921, seven years after it was founded. Sometime between 1922 and 1923 Frank and Jeannette left the Midwest for the more musically lucrative Manhattan where he spent his remaining years. He had already been contracting his services to New York publishers, so the relocation made good sense. One of his more interesting contributions of this era came out right after the Scopes (Monkey) Trial and the death of William Jennings Bryan when he wrote the music for a tune titled Bryan Believe in Heaven (That's Why He's in Heaven Tonight), one of the few topical pieces he was involved in outside of those written during World War One. Klickmann also did a large number of ukulele arrangements for popular music, and some folio work for accordions as well. Waters of the Perkiomen was originally composed for accordion. In December 1923 Jack Mills hired Klickmann to the staff full time, as noted in The Music Trade Review of January 12: "Jack Mills, Inc., the well-known popular music publishing house... recently announced that it had acquired the exclusive service, for a long term, of F. Henri Klickmann, a particularly well-known music arranger and composer. Mr. Klickmann is a student of the piano and violin, and his arrangements, both as to harmony and composition, show his early studies under some internationally known teachers. His most noteworthy accomplishments have been attained in Chicago, the city of his birth, but his fame, particularly in musical circles, is widely spread throughout the country. Among the well-known orchestral arrangements he has made have been 'The Vamp,' 'Walkin' the Dog,' 'Darktown Strutter's Ball,' 'Kitten on the Keys,' 'Some of These Days,' 'Don't You Remember the Time' and 'Sweet Hawaiian Moonlight.' Mr. Klickmann comes to the rapidly expanding Mills organization well equipped to supervise an arranging department that has already won an important place in the music publishing field." Jack Mills saw the benefit of not only publishing song folios and instruction books, but focusing on non-piano instruments as well. As the ukulele craze was reaching a zenith in 1924, Frank edited a book of popular pieces by Victor recording star and ukulele player Wendell Hall, with a little assistance from another busy uke arranger, May Singhi Breen. One of the earliest books on Jazz performance was written by Klickmann in 1926 and published by Mills. He also had a hand in many of the novelty numbers put out by the firm, as well as the orchestrations of them distributed to jazz bands around the country. A very popular book for orchestras was his 1926 Dance Encores with arrangements of many popular old waltzes, one steps, two steps and fox trots scored for ensembles of varying sizes. He also worked on a piece with the popular cartoonist Rube Goldberg, based on one of his characters, Boob McNutt. While not the runaway hit that Barney Google from the same era had been, it still did well by the composers and Mills. In the 1930 Census Jeannette and Frank, again as Henri, were lodging at 550 West 158th Street near Harlem, and he is listed as a musician with a music publishing company.The demand for the services of musicians slacked only slightly in the 1930s, and less so in Manhattan. Just the same, Frank was not composing very much any more, but continued to work for Mills on staff, then later free-lancing for anybody who could use his talent. Frank's 1942 draft record shows him as self-employed and working for "various music publishers." The couple had moved south a little to 561 W. 141st Street where he would spend the rest of his life. He was known to have edited a drumming folio by the young Buddy Rich in 1942 and The Modern Trombonist by Tommy Dorsey around the same time. In the 1940s and 1950s Klickmann spent some time co-leading one popular swing/jazz group with trombonist Fred Norman for both live appearances and some recording sessions, including backing female singers Irene Redfield and Millie Bosman. He was also a member of the governing board of the Amercian Accordionists Association. Frank retired for the most part in the mid 1950s, living in Manhattan until his death. He passed on at Knickerbocker Hospital in New York in 1966 at age 81. Coincidentally, his sister Ida passed that same week in Chicago. While certainly important as a composer contributing to the ragtime era and beyond, his arranging on standards as diverse as Ragtime Cowboy Joe, Under the Double Eagle and Song of India helped define popular or "pop" music before there was a term for it. He had a talent for making a piece sound rich and complex while keeping it very playable for the average pianist consumer. His popularization also extended beyond that with good orchestrations, adaptations, and even often-misunderstood instruments such as the accordion. His early work with non-jazz saxophone arrangements when the instrument was still fairly new was important in promoting more widespread utilization of the instrument. So while Klickmann wrote some good rags and ragtime songs, he can be remembered for so many more areas of music to which he contributed. | ||||||
Not much has been written about William H. Krell beyond his significant role as the first white composer to have a piece published with the word "rag" in the title. That he did is happenstance, but it did not make him so famous until nearly two decades after his death. Differences between William H. Krell... proprietor of the Krell Orchestra, and Harry Diamond, the "boy wonder" violinist, culminated in open discord in the rooms of the Chicago Musical Society at 83 Madison street yesterday afternoon. Krell struck Diamond, knocking him across a room, because, he declared, Diamond has called him a "short skate."
The quarrel started over competition in business. Krell played during the summer at the Heidelberg Gardens on Fifty-first street, but since the close of the garden he has been seeking engagements for this orchestra at private entertainments. Diamond also endeavored to procure engagements for an orchestra which he is organizing. He formerly had worked for Krell, his discharge leading to a feud between the two musicians. Diamond then began competing with his former employer. Although he is 20 years old, he is known in musical circles as the "boy wonder." Krell says when he met Diamond in the Chicago Musical Society rooms the latter was making remarks concerning the business methods of the Krell Orchestra. Krell's interference led to the quarrel. Diamond, who was badly injured, threatened to get out a warrant for the arrest of Krell. "Diamond has persisted in attacking me, " said Mr. Krell. "He has been envious of my business and has attempted to injure it. I tolerated a great deal from him, but when he called me a 'short skate' I felt fully justified in striking him. I don't think he would dare to have me arrested." Diamond could not be found last night." William is shown as living and working in Chicago from the mid 1890s through at least the mid 1910s, listed in both the 1900 and 1910 Census records as a musician. Some city directories show him as either a musician or conductor. In the 1900 Census his half-brother Albert was shown as living with or visiting the couple at that time. By 1910, Harvey had likely died as Jeannette was shown to have had one child but none surviving, and he cannot be found in any subsequent records. Notices of regular engagements of Krell's Band and Krell's Orchestra were seen in Chicago newspapers as late as 1914. The band notices were sometimes for a Henry Krell, but as his brother was still in Pennsylvania and no other Henry Krell was found as a musician in Illinois, William was possibly using his middle name to further denote the difference between the two groups. However, by the late 1910s as William was approaching 50 and the jazz age was on its way, he put down his baton and worked as a traveling salesman, the occupation he listed in the 1920 Census. According to his obituary he was in the novelty manufacturing business, which could cover a wide variety of merchandise. After his wife Jeannette died in the mid-1920s, Krell moved from Chicago to Miami, Florida where he retired from the novelty business. He then became president of the Republic Securities Corporation, a holding company for extensive real-estate interests in Miami. However, he still maintained a Midwest residence in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. The former composer, now dealing in land, was involved in at least one court case in that regard, Josephine F. Finney Vs. William H. Krell, in 1930. Krell died in near-obscurity in 1933, survived by his brother Fred, and was not to be rediscovered until 1950 when They All Played Ragtime was published, crediting his significant if circumstantial entry into musical history. Mississippi Rag is still performed frequently into the 21st century by a wide variety of ragtime pianists and ensembles. Thanks to Kay (Krell) Hutchinson, a grand-niece of the composer, for some additional information and clarifications on her family's history. It was a voyage of mutual discovery as she had not known of his musician status before discovering this biography. Her additional information helped to solidify the time line of Krell's life. The bulk of the remaining information was found in public records, periodicals and similar sources. | ||||||
Lauded upon his death as the "National Strauss of Canada," Jean-Baptiste Lafrenière was perhaps the first composer from that country to embrace ragtime while never straying far from the beloved waltzes he so capably turned out. He was also the first known pianist to perform ragtime in Montréal, Québec, and among the first to accompany early films in theaters as well. Among those who have done the best research on Lafrenière are historian Clément Plante and contemporary French-Candian classical and ragtime pianist extraordinaire Mimi Blais, who not only has embraced and recorded a large number of his works, and at times has been known to suspiciously resemble the long-departed composer/pianist when she appears on stage wearing his bushy moustache. To review or purchase her recordings of his work, please visit her at www.mimiblais.com. | ||||||||||||||||||
J. Bodewalt Lampe wielded perhaps more influence over music of the 1900s and 1910s as an arranger as he did in his capacity as a composer, and some of his arrangements of classic melodies into songs helped keep them alive well into this century. Jens was born to concertmaster/musician Christian Lampe and his wife Sophia Lampe in Ribe, Denmark (a name he would later alter and use as a pseudonym).
The Lampe family arrived in the United States on September 25, 1873, with Christian listing himself as a bookmaker (book binder), likely a steadier career track for an immigrant. Soon after they settled for a while in St. Paul, Minnesota. It was here that Christian's musical experience put him in leadership of the notable Great Western Band founded in 1867, a touring group made up initially of European musicians, largely of Bohemian export, which continued well into the twentieth century.Jens, J.B., as he was often called, was a child prodigy, particularly on the violin. He also quickly took to trombone, cornet, clarinet, piano, and many other orchestral instruments. In addition to occasional performances with Great Western, he became the first chair violinist for the Minneapolis Symphony at age 16, having trained with Frank Danz. Jens was academy trained in further music instruction. While receiving his training in Chicago around 1888 J.B. met and married Illinois native Josephine H. Lampe. Their first child, Walter Lee, was born the next year in Chicago. The couple moved to Buffalo at some point in the 1890s. Their daughter Petra M. was born in 1893 in Buffalo, as was son Joseph Dell in 1895, and daughter Dorothy H. in 1897. Jens' father Christian and much of the family remained in Minnesota until after 1900, after which the elder Lampe moved to Atlantic City where he would lead many bands for the remainder of his life. Jens and his brood were shown in Buffalo in the 1900 Census with Jens listed as a musical director, and a naturalized citizen, likely through his father.J.B.'s first two compositions came out in Buffalo under the label of The Lampe Music Company, the second being a march written for a local newspaper, the Buffalo News. He also arranged and published a small quantity of works by other Buffalo composers, one of them being the unusual The Pork Packer's Daughter by Carrie Pratt. His logo was, of course, an oil lamp with notes popping out of the flame outlet. Then in 1900, he self-published his most enduring hit, Creole Belles, a cakewalk which came near the latter part of popularity for that dance, but with a chorus melody in the B section that would easily remember and often emulated. It was quickly picked up by Whitney-Warner publishers in Detroit due to recordings by Sousa's band under co-leader Arthur Pryor. As was the vogue with early cakewalks, a song version soon followed. Whitney Warner in turn was folded into the new firm of Jerome H. Remick & Company, and they published subsequent editions from 1905 on. Through the fame from the highly melodic Creole Belles and his proven abilities as a conductor and arranger, Lampe found work as a professional arranger with Whitney Warner, then with the Richmond Music Company, a New York City music jobber. By 1904, with a few other marches and syncopated pieces under his belt, Lampe was pulled to New York to work for Remick, by now the predominant publisher of popular rags and songs, and remained there for nearly two decades. It is also where he and Josephine raised their children Walter, Petra, Dorothy, and most importantly, Joseph Dell, who would one day be his father's employer. In August 1907 Lampe purchased a spacious home at the corner of Petersville Road and Grant Street, Stephenson Park, New Rochelle, just off the Long Island Sound. While employed primarily as an arranger, soon to head that department for the publisher, he also managed to turn out some fine marches and lightly syncopated pieces. Among his more popular entries acquired by Remick were Dixie Girl, Happy Heine, and The Yankee Girl, the latter likely a nod to a popular logo for a tobacco product of that era which may have itself been inspired by a successful Colorado mine. The Happy Heine name was soon conveyed to race cars, boats, and the piece was even adopted by the 18th Infantry Regiment soon after they returned from duty in the Philippine Islands in 1905.While working for Remick, Lampe was responsible for putting palatable arrangements into the hands of not only the general public, but a number of working musicians as well. Among his efforts included folios of dance music, the popular Star Dance Folios from 1907 on, and of film music as well for theater pianists. He also had a knack for popularizing semi-classical or exotic pieces, among them being Song of India (which would later become a big-band hit), March of the Wooden Soldiers, and Aloha Oe, the latter which predicated a long-lasting craze for Hawaiian tunes and a ukulele in every parlor. This extended to the folios, which included Songs of Scotland and Songs of Ireland in the 1910s. J.B. further touched and fine-tuned many piano rags and ragtime-era works by composers including Charles Daniels, George Botsford, Jean Schwartz, Egbert Van Alstyne, George W. Meyer, Fred S. Stone (also a fine arranger and bandleader), and even a composition by future arranger Ferdé Grofé. At night Lampe led bands or created and directed musical programs for public parks, private parties, hotels, opera houses, and theaters, all while working his way up to a managerial position with Remick. If that's not enough, Lampe contributed either arrangements or compositions to a number of well-known musicals of the 1900s through the early 1920s, including The Chocolate Soldier by Oscar Strauss, Baron Trenck - The Pandour by Felix Aldini, Honeydew by Efrem Zimbalist, and the popular Passing Shows of 1919 and 1921. There were periods when he would get on the road and tour with Lampe's Grand Concert Band, and even plied his talents as a church organist now and then. While many composers used pseudonyms, they did not often apply those to arranging credits. However, Lampe did both, applying an alteration of the name of his birth place to become Ribé Danmark, under which he first composed the effective and ebullient Glad Rag in 1910, and which appeared on scattered publications from Remick for a decade. His take on the Turkey Trot was performed throughout the country, helping keep the animal dance craze very much alive. Among his more innovative entries was A Vision of Salome composed specifically for Isadora Duncan who was performing the Dance of the 7 Veils regularly. Many of his pieces quickly found their way to cylinders and discs, further spreading knowledge of his name among musicians and the public. In an extensive and enlightening article in the December 12, 1914 edition of The Music Trade Review, J.B. contributed an extensive article on music arranging. Given the merits of the text and the insight it gives into not only Remick but the core of the music industry in general, it was deemed worthwhile to quote the majority of it here. If we go back a few years there was a time when popular music publishers did not believe it necessary to have their publications properly edited; and a composer who could arrange his own music was looked upon with more or less suspicion. There were also a number of superstitions connected with the publishing of popular music. For instance, they would have nothing published in the key of D as that key was considered a "Jonah," and in the case of a song being rushed upon the market before it had been proof-read, on its proving a hit, the publishers would never correct it, as that also was considered unlucky.
Some composers still believe that the editor would spoil their works, which accounts for much of the trash on the market to-day. It is possible that this belief is due to the class of musicians with whom the publishers did business, whose knowledge was confined to the most elementary rules of harmony and composition. A thorough knowledge of musical science does not hamper or limit the composer, as is believed by so many; on the contrary it enlarges his scope and gives him unlimited resources. Jerome H. Remick & Co., I believe, were one of the first publishers to see the advantage of their publications carefully edited before placing them on the market, as it had been observed that there has never been a hit which did not have real musical merit. Very few of the popular composers know anything about the theory of music. When one of our composers get an idea for a song or instrumental number as soon as it is sufficiently completed to be taken down, we turn him over to one of our arrangers. The arranger takes down the composition just as the composer plays it, both melody and accompaniment, whether the harmony is correct or not.
The professional department then begins working on the song, and we get out professional copies which are given to the performers. We arrange and print vocal orchestrations in from three to seven keys of each song. If it is a good seller we make dance arrangements of it for band and orchestra. It then follows, of course, that we arrange it for vocal quartet, male, mixed and female trios, duets, mandolin, guitar and banjo, etc. In the arranging room, of which F. C. Collinge is the head, are mostly copyists, only one or two arrangers staying there in case of emergency. Most of our arrangers take their work home, preferring to work in the quietness of their own studios. Among our staff of arrangers are the following well-known musicians: Hugo Frey, James C. McCabe, Wm. J. C. Lewis, Ribe Danmark [Lampe, himself, of course] and others... The matter of pay for the arranging and copying of music has always been a problem. Years ago we had a flat rate, as for example, we paid a certain sum for an orchestration arrangement consisting of ten parts and piano; but, it must be considered that when one song is short and simple and the other one is long and difficult, this method of payment is unfair to the man arranging a long song. We finally evolved the system of paying by the actual number of measures in a composition on the basis I mentioned. A good copyist makes from 50 to 75 cents per hour, according to his speed, while an arranger earns from 75 cents to $1.25 per hour. We keep the originals in our library of every song or piece, and we arrange that the house also has a copy of everything that is published. These are numbered and entered into a book. Our librarian knows the compositions by their number and can put her hands on any of them at a moment's notice. The fact that there is no piano or other musical instrument of any kind in the arranging department has always been a matter of comment by our visitors. Our explanation is that we arrange by rule and not by ear. To get arranging experience a musician must spend a certain number of years in an orchestra, otherwise his knowledge for arranging will only be in the abstract and not in the concrete. There are two elements entering into arranging — instrumentation and orchestration. Instrumentation is the acquiring of a correct knowledge of all the instruments, their limits, their possibilities and their relation to the other instruments. Orchestration is the art of knowing how to devise parts for these instruments to a given musical composition. A thorough knowledge of harmony is necessary to the arranger. We have recently been engaged in the compiling of music particularly adaptable for photo-plays with the music carefully arranged to follow the film and composed to order when necessary. We are making a careful study of this new field and believe that it has unlimited possibilities. In this department have been made also the orchestrations for the larger part of New York biggest musical productions, such as "The Chocolate Soldier," "Adele," "The Midnight Girl," "Ziegfeld's Follies," "Little Boy Blue," etc. I need hardly say here that the style in music changes as frequently as the fashions. For instance, the coon songs which were in such vogue several years ago are now no longer popular. At the present time we are having what might be called the conversational song, and the one-step song. The former is the music that is now being used with the popular fox trot. The one-step can be traced back to the beginning of music. Marching and walking are natural movements, and while other rhythms may come and go, this movement will always remain, although its name changes every once in a while. The notion of having no pianos in the arranging room contrasted greatly with the very paradigm of composers and arrangers pounding on pianos, which is allegedly what gave Tin Pan Alley its name. However, it spoke well of the inherent musicianship of those working with Lampe. As promised, folios of film music were issued starting in 1914 from Jerome Remick, which much of the music directly edited or even composed by Lampe. He was also one of the founding charter members of ASCAP in 1914. In the mid 1910s he sent his younger son Joseph Dell, who would later be known as just Dell, to Germany to study music. Dell Lampe would return to become a bandleader in his own right before the 1910s were through.
Throughout the teens J.B. performed at charitable functions as well, including his wife and daughters on vocals. However, in early November 1918 after the loss of his oldest son, Walter Lee, who had been a member of the 71st Regiment in the war, followed two weeks later by Josephine, he stopped playing publicly, retreating to the office to turn out arrangements and folios. (There is only an indeterminate cause of death for either of them, but they were potentially flu pandemic victims.) In 1921, J.B. was hired by famed bandleader Vincent Lopez to create contemporary arrangements and teach him as well. Dell also used his father as his primary arranger while the younger Lampe was making the rounds with Lopez and Paul Whiteman, finally landing a long-term run at the Trianon Ballroom on the South Side of Chicago, Illinois. While not composing any more, J.B. started arranging for Edward B. Marks in 1922, the last piece with his credit on it showing up shortly after his death in 1929. A 1922 advertisement cites J.B. as having been the concert master of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra for many years, but how that arrangement worked while he was still working in New York is unclear. He did, however, create specific arrangements for the Lopez group recordings on Edison and O-Keh discs. Reports of J.B. in Chicago for short stays also appeared from 1922 to around 1926. J.B. remarried in the early 1920s to Millicent E. Krachehl. He also founded his own company, the Lampe Music Writing Concern, located at 1595 Broadway, where he spent his final years working. J. Bodewalt Lampe died at home at age 59 in May 1929. He left behind a considerable imprint in both piano and instrumental music that even affected the birth of movie scoring in the late 1920s. Creole Belles remains a favorite into the 21st century for vintage dance bands, traditional jazz bands and ragtime pianists. | ||||||||
Julius Lenzberg was born in Baltimore, Maryland to German (Prussian) immigrants Henry and Julia Lenzberg. He was the youngest child of a large family,
including Benjamin (10/1860), Sophia (1861), Maurice (10/1864), Emma (1866), Ella (1868), Alfred (1869 - died young), Hattie (1871), and Florence (9/1875). Henry was employed as a cigar packer in Baltimore since at least a decade before Julius was born.One of a considerable pool of talented composers from Baltimore, Julius was classically grounded with an ear for melody. He soon became competent in music theory, and performance on both piano and violin. Jules, as he often referred to himself, likely played either piano or violin for a Baltimore dance school known as Bell's Academy, and composed a march for it dedicated to the director, Professor Horace M. Bell. He worked for a while at the Weber and Fields Vaudeville Club in Baltimore, but when it closed in November, 1897, 19-year-old Lenzberg started advertising that he was "at liberty," noting his services as a leader on violin and piano, and as an arranger in the New York Clipper and some other trade papers. While it listed his Baltimore address, it noted that he had been "last season's leader" at Smith's Theater in Bridgeport, Connecticut. In 1900, having already locally published two marches, he was listed in the Census as a musician in Baltimore, although still living with his parents and some of his older siblings. His newly formed "orchestra of soloists" performed in New York in October, 1900, at the Al Reeve's Music Hall. In 1903 Jules married his German-born wife Ella Lenzberg, then the pair moved permanently to New York City so he could pursue musical leadership. Jules quickly found work leading an ensemble at the Circle Theater in New York, and started on the first of many summers playing on Long Island and Long Branch. As noted in the New York Times social column at the beginning of the 1903 and 1904 seasons, he provided music for the summer at the Scarboro Hotel. Lenzberg soon became the musical director of the Colonial Theater in New York, and is mentioned in the New York Times on July 1, 1906, as managing the orchestra of the Long Beach Hotel on Hempstead Bay, Long Island, for the summer season. He was working mostly as a musician at that time, and if there were any compositions coming from his pen, they were not being published for those few years. By 1910 Julius and Ella made their home in Queens, New York, with Julius listed as a traveling musician in the Census. This was also the beginning of his most productive period as a composer, submitting many clever rags that reflected his classical background and taste for whimsy and stage presentation. While not huge sellers, with the exception of Hungarian Rag, they provided a comfortable supplemental income for the couple. But it was his musical leadership that was his strongest asset, as noted in this December, 1913 mention in The New York Clipper: "The have an orchestra at the Colonial that, for its size, would be hard to equal, much less excel. Julius Lenzberg, himself an artistic performer, always has hist musicians under perfect control, and the resulting unified effort, supplemented by training and efficiency of a high order was fittingly shown in two selections."Lenzberg's hits during the ragtime era were few but noteworthy. One of his great talents was adapting well-known classical tunes to piano ragtime format. Among these are his Hungarian Rag and Operatic Rag. They helped fuel a trend in which rag composers such as George L. Cobb and Felix Arndt, as well as various performers, ragged famous tunes, often to the detriment of both the original and arranging composers. Mr. Lenzberg's arrangements are actually fresh and innovative in their use of these themes, unlike many similar yet lesser attempts. His Haunting Rag is among the most original of his works. Lenzberg also co-composed a rag with the esteemed ballad writer Ernest R. Ball. The Lenzbergs spent the rest of their lives in Queens. Like his famous associate, composer George Botsford, Lenzberg had a group called the Harmonists that performed in vadueville theaters, and were found listed several times throughout the 1910s on various bills. On his 1918 draft record he listed his occupation as Orchestra Leader. Lenzberg was the musical director for one of earliest renditions of the famous George White Scandals, working for the George White Scandals of 1919. It ran for 128 performances from June through October, interrupted for two weeks by an Actor's Equity strike. By late 1918, Julius was working as a manager with the Keith Theater Company, one of the few remaining vaudeville chains, at the B.F. Keith New Riverside Theater. He recorded a good number of dance tunes with that organization's Riverside Orchestra starting in 1919, largely for the Edison Blue Amberol cylinders and Diamond Discs, and reportedly some for the Pathé label. A notice in the Music Trade News of December 25, 1920, describes a special moment he had with that group: "Julius Lenzberg, leader of the orchestra at the Riverside Theatre, New York, recently featured during the intermission 'Tired of Me,' the new Irving Berlin, Inc., number. Mr. Lenzberg is something of a violin soloist himself,
Henry Lenzberg had died by 1920, and Jules' mother and his sister Florence moved in with him. He and his wife evidently never had children. The Riverside Orchestra remained popular for some time, as evidenced in this New York Evening Telegram notice of October 16, 1922: Julius Lenzberg. the popular orchestra leader at B.F. Keith's Riverside, is soon to don make-up and go right out on the platform Just like a regular actor. The week of October 23 Julius and his Riverside Theatre Orchestra have been booked Into the bill at the Riverside as a special added attraction and will go upon the stage for a routine of popular dance numbers, besides playing the rest of the show from, the pit.
They will have a special setting, and Julius is busy working out original arrangements and effects. Lenzberg has composed several popular successes, among which Is "Rag-A-Minor." and with his orchestra has made many records for some of the best known phonograph companies in America. An expert violinist and a conductor of more than usual personality, he has gained the sobriquet of "The Sousa of Theatre Orchestra." Jules recorded several more sides in 1921 and 1922 with his Julius Lenzberg's Harmonists on the Okeh label, various New York labels such as Paramount/Banner, Bell/Arto with Julius Lenzberg and His Orchestra, and on Banner/Triangle with his Jules Lenzberg's Midnight Follies group. Although the recordings stopped in 1922, he continued appearances throughout the decade, occasionally on radio. One of the stars of his 1924 Hippodrome orchestra was the mando-cello player, Alfred Allen, who brought notoriety to the unusual instrument. He was involved with the Hippodrome through most of the mid to late 1920s, according to notices seen in the New York Times. Other articles confirm the existence of a Julius Lenzberg Symphony Orchestra as well in the mid to late 1920s, but no specifics on what they played. In the 1930 Census Lenzberg is still listed as an orchestra leader.
Again he hit Broadway and also some of the more legitimate concert halls. Lenzberg was the musical director for the 1931 stage musical Nikki, which ran a difficult 39 performances from September through October. Among the future stars of this near flop were Fay Wray in the title role of Nikki, and Archie Leach as romantic interest Cary Lockwood. Leach would eventually take the first name of his character and make a splash in the movies as Cary Grant. The Great Depression was not kind to Broadway except for the Gershwin brothers. So in 1932 he became involved with symphonic music again as the assistant director of the Roxy Theater Symphony Orchestra run by the well known impresario Hugo Riesenfeld. The organization also were featured on occasional radio concerts, even traveling to Chicago for appearances on WGN. He may have done some seasonal work out of New York as well, as he owned a home in Forest Hills. Jules eventually moved into management, away from the grind of preparing musical presentations on a weekly basis. His employer listed on his 1942 draft record was Select Operating Corporation, a theatrical management and property broker that included the Shubert Organization. They are still in business today, and located in the Times Square theater district in Manhattan. Data beyond 1943 to his death has proven difficult to find. Lenzberg, a long-time music veteran, passed on at age 78 in 1956. | |||||||||||
Pruning and trimming the family tree of Barbary Coast pianist Sid Le Protti took a great deal of careful searching with some interesting discoveries. Some of his background is presented here for the first time, along with some clarifications on questions that have been asked about his life and heritage. We need to go back at least one generation more to fully appreciate that heritage.
Sidney's maternal grandmother was freeborn Amelia Gibbs, born in Pennsylvania around 1845 to Sarah A. Gibbs.
At some point in the mid 1880s Louis had an affair with Amelia, who was only 17 to Louis' 28, and in November of 1886 she gave birth to a possibly illegitimate mulatto child, Louis Sidney Le Protti. No record of marriage has been found for the couple, but in fairness it could have been among the many records lost in the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and fire. In the 1900 Census, Amelia shows as married, yet using her maiden name of Dangerfield, and adding two years to her age, possibly to avoid being known for having had a teenaged pregnancy. She and Louis Jr. were living with her stepfather and mother in Oakland, with Richard working as a janitor and the elder Amelia as a midwife. By that time Louis had moved south the Santa Clara, California, and was working as a farm laborer. So Louis Sidney Le Protti Jr., who was shown as Sidney in the 1900 Census (possibly so as to not directly reference his father), grew up as a mixed race child in a black family with no father present. According to Le Protti he first heard ragtime around 1895. A youth named Leroy Watkins came to the Marsden residence and played early ragtime tunes on their Stedman & Company square grand piano. Partially hooked, he heard pianist "Blind Tom" Wiggins in a church concert in Oakland in the late 1890s, and the legendary John William "Blind" Boone within a few more years. But even before those events Sidney had been taking some classical piano thanks to his grandparents.
A common promotional tool for publishers in the late 1890s and early 1900s was to release a free Sunday supplement in the papers of a piece, hoping it would encourage purchases of other works by those composers or the same publishing house. Around 1897 the San Francisco Examiner printed the 1896 piece Ambolina Snow (an Afro-American Military Ballad), music by George D. Brainard, which had some light syncopation in it. Sidney was proficient enough to read the score. His uncle Joseph heard the piece and immediately went to the elder Amelia, proclaiming that "Sid is plain' ragtime." Sidney was quickly reprimanded for this infraction, but after a discussion with a German friend of the family, Lorenzo, who also happened to be a dancer, they ascertained that perhaps it was not such a bad thing, so they allowed and even encouraged him to continue. Across the bay in San Francisco, the Barbary Coast had been a part of San Francisco since the days of the gold rush in the 1850s. Located around the base of Broadway and Pacific Street, and named after the dangerous Barbary Coast of Africa due to its similar nature, by the late 19th Century it had earned an international reputation, both good and notorious. It was also the primary area of prostitution for the bay city, as well as gambling and crime, but mostly adult entertainments. According to Lloyd E. Benjamin in an 1876 book, Lights and Shades of San Francisco, "The Barbary Coast is the haunt of the low and the vile of every kind. The petty thief, the house burglar, the tramp, the whoremonger, lewd women, cutthroats, murderers, all are found here. Dance-halls and concert-saloons, where blear-eyed men and faded women drink vile liquor, smoke offensive tobacco, engage in vulgar conduct, sing obscene songs and say and do everything to heap upon themselves more degradation, are numerous. Low gambling houses, thronged with riot-loving rowdies, in all stages of intoxication, are there. Opium dens, where heathen Chinese and God-forsaken men and women are sprawled in miscellaneous confusion, disgustingly drowsy or completely overcome, are there. Licentiousness, debauchery, pollution, loathsome disease, insanity from dissipation, misery, poverty, wealth, profanity, blasphemy, and death, are there. And Hell, yawning to receive the putrid mass, is there also." Not much changed up through 1906, and indeed the Barbary Coast was one of the last portals of entertainments of all kinds for those departing for the Klondike gold rush from the summer of 1897 through 1898. After the district was mostly destroyed in the 1906 earthquake and fire, there was a chance to rebuild it and improve on the tone and reputation. The rebuilding commenced, but the vice was instantly reconstituted as well. One of the primary dance halls was Purcell's So Different Café, which was founded by black entrepreneurs Lew Purcell and Sam King, formerly Pullman porters on the railroad.
Many nights the entire area would be shut down by the police, only to emerge from the temporary threat the next morning. It wasn't until 1914 that the city government passed legislation to start a push that would eventally shut down Barbary Coast establishments. With driven support from local Reverend Paul Smith and a decision by the United States Supreme Court, the prostitutes and gamblers were forced out of business in 1917 almost simultaneously with the Storytown District in New Orleans. All that remained were the musicians and dance halls, and even dancing was prohibited in short order. Le Protti was there for this entire period. Among the first establishments in which he was regularly employed was Purcell's So Different Café starting in 1907. However he also had a day job working as a music demonstrator in a piano store, possibly a branch of Sherman & Clay, the dominant San Francisco music company. In the 1910 Census Sid was shown living on his own in a San Francisco boarding house on Montgomery Avenue in San Franciso still working as a musician in a piano store. He was listed as a mulatto in this record, but most other times was shown as black or colored. In 1912 Sidney married Georgia transplant Mayme Richardson (sometimes incorrectly spelled Mamie). Previously married, she brought her three-year-old daughter Thelma Richardson with her. Musicians from all over the country came to the Barbary Coast to play or listen, so Sid and his band were frequently exposed to new ideas in performance. Among those that intrigued him were both the instrumentation and four-beat playing of New Orlean's musicians, including Ferdinand "Jelly Roll" Morton and the band of Joseph "King" Oliver. However, his first true exposure to early New Orleans jass was from Will Johnson's Original Creole Orchestra. Trying to emulate that style starting around 1912, Sid ended up weeding out the musicians who could not get a good grasp on it, and added an upright bass to help with the four-beat feel. By 1915 he had rebuilt the So Different Orchestra into one of the finest performing groups in the Bay Area, black or white.
It was around 1914 that itinerant Chicago pianist Glover Compton set up in the district for a while and befriended Le Protti. While there are no definitive samples in print or any registered copyrights, Compton reported that Le Protti had written several compositions of his own. One of those in particular was appealing to Compton and he quickly learned it. In 1915 Sid heard his tune played again, but this time it was part of a piece named Canadian Capers. Evidently Compton had played it back in Chicago at the repeated request (with the lure of dollar tips) of pianist Henry Cohen, and Cohen collaborated with three of his friends to "compose" the piece Canadian Capers, which included Le Protti's melody in the B strain. At a later time when Le Protti asked Cohen about this, the latter pointed to Compton as the one who taught him the melody, and when asked if he could use it, Compton had no argument. Compton confirmed this story at some point as well. Sadly Le Protti had no copyright or other proof to protect him and benefit from the tune's hit status. Armed with a six piece band of woodwinds and rhythm, Sidney's group often was asked to play at venues other than the Purcell's Café. They also expanded their repertoire well beyond ragtime and early jazz or barrelhouse, playing famous overtures such as Poet and Peasant, Morning, Noon and Night in Vienna, and even the now-famous William Tell Overture. One winter Sid's six piece band teamed up with that of George Bryant's who was staying in town with Ferdon's Medical Show, and they both rehearsed and performed together for a while as a twelve piece orchestra. Even King Oliver sat in on some of the groups gigs when he was in town. In the late 1910s the Le Protti group performed for C.O. Swanberg at the Porta La Louvre, and even ventured to the Pacific territory of Hawai'i to play at the Alexander Young Hotel. In 1917 Le Protti quit working regularly at the So Different Café. On his 1917 draft record, Sidney was listed as working for the much classier Portola Lounge (Café) at 18 Powell Street. Living once again across the bay in Oakland, he claimed to be the sole support for his mother, brother, wife and stepdaughter. According to Mayme Le Protti, the advent of World War I ravaged the band and they went into the military or on their separate ways. Most of them headed to the East Coast to fill in the gaps left by others who had departed for Europe. Sid was offered the same opportunity but declined, further straining relationships with his fellow musicians. He continued to work as an ad hoc pianist for various establishments and music groups. In order to supplement his income after the war was over, Sid set up a shoe shine stand at University Avenue and Grove (since renamed) in Berkeley just blocks from the bay. Many of his customers also went to hear his newly formed band rehearse nearby in the evenings.
After having shut down gambling, prostitution, dancing, and now thanks to the Volstead Act, alcohol in the district, the politicians finally delivered a crushing blow when musicians were also chased out in the late Spring of 1921, Sidney being among them. His family was growing, having added daughter Jacqueline to the household in 1923, so he continued to seek out work. Throughout the 1920s Sid worked as a free-lance pianist, as well as doing odd jobs, perhaps even continuing as a shoe-shiner. With steady gigs in San Francisco in short supply, Sid and his various groups would travel to smaller venues, such as Fort Bragg or Williams to the north. They played special events, house parties, dances, and more. Definitive reports are scarce during this decade. However, in the 1930 Census Sid lists himself as an orchestra musician, indicating he was still pounding the keys for a living. Even though the Barbary Coast district slowly came back to life in after the campaign to shut it down, by the mid 1930s Sid and his family had moved northeast a bit to Walnut Creek, just south of Concord. He found steady work there playing current swing hits as well as the more nostalgic ragtime and early jazz. On his 1942 draft record he is listed as self-employed, working for an establishment at 1325 Main Street in Walnut Creek. It was here in the late 1940s where Rudi Blesh encountered the once prominent Barbary Coast musician and interviewed him for his 1946 jazz history, Shining Trumpets. Portions of that interview were also used in They All Played Ragtime published in 1950. While neither gave much celebrity to Le Protti, they did at least bring a few curious jazz afficianados to the Bay Area to seek him out, and this allowed him to keep performing into his late sixties. White San Francisco trumpeter Lu Watters, aided by pianist Wally Rose and trombonist Turk Murphy, had led a revival of traditional jazz that underwent a jerky start in 1942, but picked up again after the war in 1946. Playing in institutions like the Dawn Club, not all that far from the old Barbary Coast, they further helped the movement that led to Blesh's book and the rediscovery of artists such as Le Protti. In 1955 or 1956 Murphy sat down with Le Protti and recorded many of his recollections included here. They include perhaps the only remaining samples of Le Protti's playing. Sidney Le Protti passed on in Contra Costa, California in 1958. While his legacy is largely the memory of some legendary years on the San Francisco Bay, and the stolen melody used in Candian Capers, it should in no way be regarded as a minimal contribution to ragtime and early jazz, West Coast style. Some of the information here can also be found in the fine book Jazz on the Barbary Coast, highly recommended for anyone who wants to extend their ragtime library. The Le Protti excerpts are from the Frisco Cricket printed in the spring of 1998. The rest of the information was uncovered by the author through extensive searches using various spellings in newspapers, periodicals, public records and accounts by other musicians. |
Harry J. Lincoln creates a bit of a conundrum for researchers for a variety of reasons. The parentage of many of his pieces is uncertain since they were published under the names of both contrived and existing composers, and given the vast quantity of his works there is surprisingly little about his life outside the publishing and writing arenas. Even though he was one of the lesser-known composers of the ragtime era, his works still sold briskly, in part due to the creative Walter J. Dittmar covers often found on his Vandersloot-published works,
and the sheer quantity of his output permeates sheet music piles around North America and other parts of the world. He was also not without some level of controversy, although not intentionally.Harry was born to coal miner Conrad L. Lincoln and his wife Margaret Losch Lincoln, both Pennsylvania natives, in Shamokin, Pennsylvania (although probably not in a log cabin like the other Lincoln), and spent his entire life based in the state. He was the youngest of five children, including Jacob (1867), John (1869), Ida (1871) and George (1873). While little is known of his education, musically or otherwise, he did become a choirmaster and organist in Williamsport at the First Church of Christ. He also became an associate conductor for the Williamsport Symphony, vaguely in the area of 1900 or later. Harry self-published one of his first compositions in early 1900, The Midnight Fire Alarm, which was subsequently bought and rearranged by famed march publisher Edward Taylor Paull. It ultimately became one of the best known pieces in the Paull catalog. (To quash a common myth, Paull never covered Lincoln's identity as composer, and all editions properly credit him.) Harry was listed as a music teacher in the 1900 Census, and had married Miss Lottie May Bovec in 1898. When he was first established in Williamsport around 1900, Lincoln submitted a couple of pieces to local music salesman and sometime publisher Charles A. Mulliner. These included The Police Patrol (a companion to Midnight Fire Alarm), Flowers of the Forest, and the recently uncovered The Circus Girl, which may have been prompted by a musical of the same name that came out at that time. There were some later works, including songs co-written with Mulliner, released up to a decade later after Harry's reputation was better known, but likely printed with help from Harry under Mulliner's moniker, as he appears only as a music salesman in the 1910 Census. They may also have been printed by Charles' brother in law who Lincoln later worked with. Harry also arranged or perhaps co-wrote a few pieces with Mulliner's music teacher wife, Ida (Furman) Mulliner as I. Furman Mulliner. His next most famous piece, and also reportedly the second-most played march in history, was one of the points of a controversy that exists over a century later.
Lincoln's side of the troublesome story is that he had written a 6/8 march piece honoring the band as early as 1896 or 1897, but had trouble selling it to a variety of publishers. After the success of Midnight Fire Alarm, plus in need of money, he was able to sell it to Mr. Sweeley who subsequently published Repasz Band under his own banner and composition credit. Having not marketed the piece very well, Sweeley let it drop. As Lincoln's situation improved he reformed his publishing company and took back Repasz Band. However, either out of respect for Sweeley or because the parentage had been established through copyright, he left Sweeley's name on the composition. After Lincoln dissolved his small publishing firm in 1903 he was hired on at Vandersloot Music in 1904 after Vandersloot published Heaven's Artillery. Owner Frederick W. Vandersloot also bought the Lincoln copyrights, and wanted to meet the composer of the marvelous Repasz Band march which he had republished in 1904. At this point Lincoln revealed it was his own, but they continued to publish it with Sweeley's name until the mid 1910s. When the copyright was renewed in 1929 Lincoln reclaimed the piece as his own, which was allegedly reinforced by a sworn statement from Sweeley himself, a statement that currently resides in the Library of Congress.Members of the Sweeley family contest the story, as well as the handwriting on the statement. Sweeley's son had the handwriting analyzed by a professional and it was ascertained to be a potential forgery. The original copyright submission shows Sweeley as the composer and Lincoln as the arranger. Also, there has been some duress in terms of Lincoln's claim over the piece. Lincoln made two attempts to copyright it in 1929, the first being rejected. The second attempt had the alleged sworn statement backing it up. There are points to be made for either scenario. Given Lincoln's prolific career and Sweeley's comparitively minimal output, it could seem more likely that Lincoln possibly contributed to a few more Sweeley pieces. Sweeley spent most of his adult life working with Lycoming Rubber, playing with bands on the side, but not as a full time musician or composer. There is also the fact that Mr. Sweeley continued to have his works published by Vandersloot, which would not make sense if there were any serious contention between him and the manager, Mr. Lincoln. A modicum of doubt must still be considered in this instance concerning authorship. Those who knew the real story are long gone. The claims of the Sweeley family need to be considered in balance with those of Lincoln, and duly respected as sincere and honest. The author did a forensic analysis comparing Repasz Band with similar characteristic pieces by both composers. The most logical and probable conclusion that could be reached was that it was likely Sweeley's melody, but clearly arranged in Lincoln's style for both piano and band. Just as E.T. Paull's arrangement of Midnight Fire Alarm contributed to its success, Lincoln's likely adjustments (based on other Sweeley works) to Repasz Band likely had an impact as well. Both men deserve credit in different ways for making the piece popular, so hopefully there is enough to go around. Coming to an absolute conclusion of full authorship is difficult to achieve when all of the known facts are considered. After he was established at Vandersloot, Harry became the primary (at times only) staff arranger and one of two hired composers, the other one being Frank Hoyt Losey who joined in 1909. Vandersloot's brother Carl wrote for the firm from time to time, but not consistently until the mid 1910s. In some or the registered copyrights, Lincoln claims Carl D. Vandersloot as his own pseudonym, so there is a blurry line between what Carl may have contributed and what Harry claimed. Another such case was that of Carl Loveland. There was an Alabama-born (1891) musician of that name who was living in Chicago, Illinois in 1900, but not located again until the mid 1910s when he was working as a bandleader in Portland, Oregon, later moving to Seattle, Washington, then settling in Monterey, California. Whether Lincoln simply coincidentally used that name or the real Mr. Loveland contributed is uncertain, and evidence either way is difficult to ascertain. Loveland would have been 18 when works with that name started appearing in the Vandersloot catalog. Later copyright renewals show Carl Loveland to be a Lincoln pseudonym, but as with Sweeley there may be some question as to the authenticity of that claim. In the years preceding 1910, while writing many marches, reveries, waltzes, and a clever "suite" of card-based pieces under his frequent pseudonym Abe Losch (derived from his mother's maiden name), Lincoln had not yet composed any authentic piano rags. He did appear to have a fascination with fire, however, as many of his marches seemed oriented towards fires and firefighting, dating back to Midnight Fire Alarm. With Losey as competition, and with the publication of rags by Charles L. Johnson, Charles Cohen and Harry A. Fischler, Lincoln started contributing a small number of syncopations. Even so, piano ragtime in general from Vandersloot was a rarity, in spite of Lincoln's output, which actually exceeded that of E.T. Paull's own compositions. (It should be noted that for some time Fischler was mistakenly considered as yet another pseudonym for Lincoln, but Fischler's identity was solidly confirmed by the author in 2004.) With the expansion of composers and good distribution, the somewhat isolated Pennsylvania town of Williamsport had surprisingly strong output, although uneven in quality. The Lincolns added a daughter to the family, Margaret M. Lincoln, born around 1904. The family appears in Williamsport in the 1910 Census with Harry listed as a music composer, and Lottie's younger brother, Leroy Bovec, living in the household.Harry's life did have a little drama and controversy now and then, plus a suggestion of marital infidelity. According to an item in the Feburary 17, 1914 edition of the Williamsport Gazette and Bulletin: "Harry J. Lincoln, who resides at 606 West Edwin Street, and Inez Christian, were arrested last night by the police in a room on East Third Street below Market Square. The arrest was made about 12:30 o'clock. Last night about 11 o'clock Mrs. Lincoln went before Alderman Stead and procured a warrant. The police were given the warrant, located the couple, and breaking down the door found them and took them to headquarters. Both were locked up for the night and will be taken before the alderman this morning for a hearing. Mrs. Lincoln and the Christian girl met at Third and Pine streets Saturday and Mrs. Lincoln pummeled her and tore her hair, telling her what would happen if she did not keep away from her husband." In spite of this incident and possibly a couple more, Harry and Lottie remained married until his death in 1937. Another interesting note from that time was his leadership of the Lincoln's Ladies' Band, started in 1915. According to the Williamsport newspaper in early June, "Thousands of people filled the street to get a glimpse of the lady musicians as they headed the Memorial Day parade." The core members of the Lincoln's Ladies' Band included five sisters and two nieces of Jeremiah M. Dockey who initially brought the group together before Lincoln debuted them.During his stint with Vandersloot, and dating back perhaps to 1905, Lincoln had also published some pieces by himself and others under his own monikers, including Harry J. Lincoln Publishing Company and U.S. Music Publishing Company, the latter which would be more frequently used in later years. There is some potential evidence that a local printer, George Furman, the younger brother of Ida Furman-Mulliner who Lincoln had published pieces for, may have been a print jobber or a direct connection to one for Harry's independent publications. In 1918 Harry moved to Philadelphia to re-establish U.S. Music there, but still kept a working relationship with Vandersloot. He is shown there on his draft record in September as a Music Publisher, Composer and Printer. In 1920 he also adds publisher to his Census listing in addition to composer and arranger. In a 1920 directory of Where and How to Sell Manuscripts, Lincoln was represented with the following listing which speaks quite a bit to his personal musical tastes: "HARRY J. LINCOLN MUSIC COMPANY (Formerly United States Music Publishing Company) 2209 Fairmont Avenue, Philadelphia, Penn. Editor, Harry J. Lincoln. Always on the lookout for good semi-high-class songs and good ballads. Original novelty songs can be used at all times. Comic songs are considered, but in order to gain acceptance they must be entirely different from other songs. Can also use good ragtime if not too ragged. Specializes on instrumental music for the band, piano, and orchestra. Reports on manuscripts within two weeks. Buys outright; also on a royalty basis. Return postage should be enclosed with all contributions." As the ad suggests, it appears that starting in 1920, Lincoln wrote tunes for hire from lyricists who sent in their poetry as well, or in some cases arranged existing tunes, using the derived alteration of Harry Jay. In a couple of instances, he contributed lyrics under that name as well. While some of these pieces appeared under the Lincoln imprint, others were published by various jobbers around the east, and many or most of the Harry Jay pieces were copyrighted and published by the lyricist. Composing for hire was not an uncommon practice for many prolific composers or publishers. Many of these tunes were issued as vanity presses, printings of one hundred to one thousand copies, with the client paying for Lincoln's services as composer and arranger taking care of their own distribution, or giving Harry a taste of royalties if he also took care of that aspect of things. The attribution for Lincoln as Harry Jay is made evident in several copyright records of the time in which the pseudonym association is clearly mentioned, and with no evidence to dispute the claim. Perhaps the most telling example of Lincoln's willingness to write for profit was his musical contribution as Harry Jay to the lyrics of We Are the Ladies of the Ku Klux Klan, which might further explain his use of an insulating pseudonym. During the next few years Harry contributed a great number of pieces to piano roll manufacturers, Wurlitzer being the primary outlet. Many of them did not appear in print, also a common practice related to both piano rolls and phonograph records. Harry also worked at acquiring a number of other publishing companies to add to the U.S. Music collection, including the Vandersloot catalog in 1929. Frederick Vandersloot died in 1931 and the firm then ceased to exist except under Lincoln's Philadelphia imprint. The only viable work that Lincoln had from the Vandersloot catalog in the early 1930s was the ubiquitous Repasz Band, as most of the marches and waltzes were now musical dinosaurs in the jazz age. After the copyright renewal in 1929, Harry composed Repasz on Parade, and boldly included the following information in the header: "This march was written as a companion piece to the famous 'Repasz Band March,' which is one of the best known and most popular marches now on the market. The fundamental idea in writing this march came to the composer after thousands of letters had been received from time to time asking that the composer of that great march write a companion piece to it, and as the name Chas. C. Sweeley, which appeared on Repasz Band March as its composer was merely the pen name of Harry J. Lincoln, who wrote hundres of big selling things, it was therefore, up to Mr. Lincoln to write this great compainion number. The author has attempted to make Repasz on Parade equally as catchy and pleasing as the Repasz Band March and trusts his efforts in this march may meet with the same general support accorded his other march compositions." The jury remains out to this day on the legitimacy of this claim.Lincoln did write a couple of novelty works in the late 1920s (such as Hickory Nuts Rag and Kick Off), but could not keep up with the true novelty composers of the era. In 1926 he had released the book How to Write and Publish Music containing a lifetime of his experience in both fields. In 1931 he released an expanded and revised edition largely intended for the self-starter during the uncertain time of the Great Depression. A supplement includes a list of "music publishers and dealers, band and orchestra leaders, music jobbers, phonographic recording companies, 25 cent store headquarters, [and] radio stations." Yet little is contained in the book about Lincoln himself. As of the 1930 Census, Harry and Lottie were residing near downtown Philadelphia, and Harry listed himself with no career at that time, unusual considering his continuing musical activity. Their daughter, Margaret, was living with them at that time, and the Census also lists an adopted son, Harry J. Lincoln Jr., who had been born in January 1929. One of Lincoln's descendants suggests that it may have been Margaret's child out of wedlock, adopted to save face, but this has not been confirmed. Harry evidently had a role as an engraver with the Otto Zimmerman & Son Company in Cincinnati, Ohio, during the 1930s, which was mentioned in an article about a year after his passing. This was also the company that released his how-to book. Harry Lincoln died in Philadelphia just after his 59th birthday, having not left behind any concise record of his output and having not formally settled selected disputes over authorship. As a person, Lincoln was rather unassuming and seemingly businesslike, warranting little attention outside the Repasz Band controversy and the incident with Miss Christian, and only scant mentions in the Williamsport newspaper through the years. The consummate small-town corporate musician, a day at the office for him was just as likely approving plates for printing or negotiating terms with another composer or artist as it was to write another march or tweak an arrangement of a song. Vandersloot's national success publishing from a simple Pennsylvania town can attributed largely to Lincoln's management and output. While he wrote very little ragtime, he is still a substantial part of the overall output of instrumentals of the ragtime era. We will likely never know all of the pseudonyms or other composer's names he wrote under or for. But what we do have represents some of the easier to play and interpret pieces of the era, and a representative piece of rural Pennsylvania for certain. Thanks to some assistance from the Lycoming Historical Society for information on the region. Also to Cheryl Licary for some verification and the addition of a few pieces, in addition to pushing an investigation into the existence of Carl Loveland. Charles Sweeley, son of the composer, contributed valuable information concerning his family's stance on Repasz Band. Chris Buckingham, a descendant of Lincoln, contributed information that led to the discovery of the Harry Jay listings. | |||||||
Thomas H. Lodge was born in Providence, Rhode Island to British father Edward Lodge and his wife Joanna Lodge, an Maryland native of Irish descent. He was the oldest of four brothers and one older sister. | ||||||
F.H. Losey was not all that much a mystery composer, in part because he left so much music behind. However, in researching his story the author found a number mysteries involved with his personal life. Not all are answered here, but some will be addressed as best as possible, as well as an accounting of his professional career as a musician and bandleader. A mysterious couple claiming to hail from Rochester, who were married by Justice Williams in Elmira on the night of June 30th, stipulating that the wedding should not be registered under two weeks, it is now stated were Frank H. Losey, a son of Hon. Geo. T. Losey, of Lawrenceville, and Miss Addie Moore, of Mansfield. Both were absent at the time, and various other circumstances corroborate the fact as stated. They are young people of excellent standing and connections, and their reasons for taking this clandestine method of uniting their fortunes are incomprehensible to their numerous friends. Other demographics also concur that Frank married Adeline (Addah) Augusta Moore in June of 1892. There is a chance that she was pregnant at that time, thus the secrecy. A few years later, he released a march named Gloria who was dedicated to the (hard to confirm) late Gloria Losey. This may have been a daugther of the Loseys who died as a toddler. Local records did not confirm this possibility, so whoever Gloria was remains a bit of a mystery. What is not a mystery is that Gloria, published in Cleveland two years after his first march Snap Shot, quickly became a brass band standard throughout the Northeast. Losey's fame began to spread as he released more marches, most arranged for band but a few for piano, and even an early cakewalk, Wandering Willie. | ||||||
Herbert Marple was born in October 1890 in Fredericktown, Ohio, to baker George McLeland Marple and his wife Estella (Little) Marple. His younger brother Raymond Marple came along two years later in September 1892. The family subsequently moved to Hastings, Michigan, where they were found in 1900 with George listed as a baker. Not much is known of Herbert's upbringing in music, but there are clues that Stella was somewhat musical, and may have had a hand in his training.
At some point between 1908 and 1910, the Marple family briefly became involved with the Albion Opera House, built in 1869, and managed at that time by H.H. Sheldon. With a capacity of 750, it was fairly large for a small town. By the time of 1910 Census it featured more than operas, hosting vaudeville troupes, and displaying motion pictures as well. George wass listed as the "superintendent" of the building, while Herbert and his mother Stella were musicians. Raymond, at 17, was in charge of the motion picture end of the business. Within a couple of years, George had returned to his occupation as a baker. Herbert continued to play music, and after marrying Theresa Veronica Cronis (could also be Crowley) in 1915, moved to the Barbary Coast to try and make a living there.While in the San Francisco Bay Area in California, Herbert hooked up with another transplant, composer and publisher Charles N. Daniels who had relocated from the Midwest for the benefit of his daughter's health, who had died by 1915. Herbert brought his song Hawaiian Dreams to Daniels for publication, and it quickly was deemed popular enough to warrant a song version as well, with lyrics by Daniels under the pseudonym Sidney Carter, released by Daniels and his partner Weston Wilson. It was soon recorded, one rendition committed to an Edison Blue Ambersol cylinder by the Waikiki Hawaiian Orchestra. In 1917 Herbert published his only rag, Lucky Dog - Stop Rag, a fine and interesting syncopated piece. It was released under the banner of the short-lived Car-Vin company, a music jobber firm that Marple managed in 1917 and 1918. It has an ad on the back for another publication from the prior year, but Marple's role in this prior piece is unclear. They may have done some of the printing work for the larger San Francisco music store and publisher, Sherman Clay & Company among others. Marple's draft record of that same year shows Herbert and Theresa living in San Francisco, and a manager at Car-Vin situated at 233 Post Street.Marple and Daniels, likely encouraged by the success of Hawaiian Dreams, scored again in 1918, although on a smaller scale. Arabian Dreams, published by Daniels and Wilson and released both as a song and instrumental, had tepid sales compared to its successor. That same year Herbert became involved with the Sherman Clay & Company. It was announced in March 1918 that "Car-Vin, the well-known sheet music jobbers of [San Francisco], have sold their entire stock and have retired from business. H. B. Marple, manager of Car-Vin, has been appointed traveling salesman for Sherman, Clay & Co., and other members of the old organization have also joined this house." He was doing very well as a composer with his contemplative Roses at Twilight, with lyrics by Ben Black. This piece was advertised in 1918 and 1919 in newspapers throughout the country, and sold briskly. It was also featured on at least two piano roll renditions. He followed this up in 1919 with Old Virginny. A 1918 voting roll shows the Marples living in Alameda county at 77 Echo Avenue, and he is listed as a manager. Having been tasked by Sherman Clay as their primary traveling representativem Herbert went out on the first two of his extended road trips in 1918. The first in the Spring was to the Northwest cities, and the second starting in September 1918 took him back East for the first time. This journey was closely followed by The Music Trade Review, which reported some of his stops. On March 22, 1919, the paper noted that: "Herbert Marple, who has been on the road for the sheet music department of Sherman, Clay & Co. since last September, is expected to return home next week. During his absence Marple has traveled more than 15,000 miles and has visited every music center of importance in the United States." He also made several stops in southern Canada during the long journey. Whether Theresa accompanied him on this trip or not was not documented. Herbert's parents had remained in Michigan, and George and Stella appear there in Eaton Rapids in 1920 with George still plying his trade as a baker. It appears that Herbert may have gone back East briefly to work with publisher Jack Robbins around this time. He and Theresa were not found in the 1920 Census, and he was most likely in transit. In February 1920, Sherman Clay manager Ed Little announced a push to disseminate their sheet music products throughout the United States, with Marple as his primary representative. A second promotional tour was made in 1920 by Marple and his colleague Harvey Orr, with the primary songs promoted being Louisiana and the highly popular Whispering. Both Presto and The Music Trade Review followed his progress with sightings in Portland, Oregon, Seattle, Washington, and ultimately Chicago before the pair returned home. As noted in Presto on April 24, 1920: "Herbert B. Marple, traveling representative of the Sherman, Clay Co., San Francisco, was in Portland last week doing a big business, taking more orders than ever before for the firm he represents.
Messrs. Marple and Orr, of Sherman, Clay & Co's Sales Staff, Visiting Eastern Points
In the old days it used to be 'Go West, young man, go West.' Two young men from the sales staff of Sherman, Clay & Co., San Francisco, Cal., Herbert Marple and Harvey Orr, have taken those instructions to heart in the reverse form and have started East by automobile. They are visiting the trade in the country through which they pass and in the very near future, as they were only recently in Kansas City, Mo., they will have reached New York. After all, it is quite a unique trip and The Review knows no other sheet music salesmen who have ever proceeded overland through such Far Western country in the interests of their firms' publications. According to reports, Sherman, Clay & Co.'s song and instrumental success, 'Whispering,' has proved one of the biggest hits in the territory visited. Another snippet from September read: "When they reach a small city or an important resort they entertain wherever they can find
a crowd - Marple at the piano and Orr singing. The result is that they are blazing a trail of popularity for the hit, 'Whispering,' and introducing
'Louisiana.' " This second trip lasted through the end of October, 1920. It was followed by a third journey in the summer of 1921 by Marple and another colleauge from New York, Richard Powers. As reported by The Music Trade Review of August 6, 1921: "We herewith reproduce a photograph taken of the two boys in the wilds of the Yosemite Valley, where, it is said, they were resting after a five-mile hike up the mountains to Iron Rock, which overhangs the world-famous Nevada Falls. We have also received a report that they are shown contemplating singing 'Have You Forgotten'? There is some dispute regarding this latter inasmuch as some assume that they would not have had sufficient lung power left after such a climb to do the song justice and we can hardly picture such enthusiastic young men singing a Sherman, Clay number in anything but their finest voices." By the end of 1921 the Marple was back in San Francisco.
Herbert is mentioned in Sheet Music News in 1922 as the manager of Sherman Clay, recovering from a recent illness, and planning yet another extended trip through the Northwest. He made a trip to Southern California in February of that year, which may have led to his next career move. Around the same time Harry worked up an adaptation of Song of India, a theme by Nikolav Rimsky-Korsakov, into a popular song. It was quickly picked up by the Paul Whiteman Orchestra and remained a favorite through the Swing Era of the mid 1930s to 1940s. However, he had another move in mind, going south to Los Angeles. As reported in The Music Trade Review of October 7, 1922: "Harry G. Neville, who has been manager of G. Schirmer Co. for many years, has obtained the sheet music concession at the Platt Music Co., on Broadway [downtown Los Angeles], and will be open for business about October 1, when the extensive alterations and improvements which have been under construction for some time are completed.
Bright and early one morning I interviewed
Harry Neville at the Wiley B. Allen Co.'s new home at 720 South Broadway. The store was just about ready for the formal opening. The interior is decorated in gray with cream-colored trimming. The entire store is splendidly laid out and will no doubt prove one of the most attractive music houses on South Broadway. Neville was extremely busy getting his music department in shape. It occupies a great deal of space on the main floor and a large room downstairs for octavo and orchestra music. The Neville Marple Co. operates many stores in this section, or rather in what is called the metropolitan district of Greater Los Angeles...
Unfortunately I was unable to visit with the other member of the firm, Herbert Marple. He spends a good deal of time covering the circuit and I did not see him while I was in the city. The Neville-Marple department at 630 South Hill street is looked after by Colonel DeMotte, the old veteran of the music business on the Pacific Coast. He still enjoys his daily work without a pause and doesn't shirk. In 1927 Marple's last collaborative composition, Funny Tune, was released, published by the Los Angeles firm of W.A. Quincke & Company. The following year he briefly became a publisher himself, some rearranged piano works for youth, and even a couple of pieces by some of his former San Francisco associates, under the banner of his store, the Neville-Marple Music Company. But that same year Marple took on a new occupation as well, showing in the voter rolls as a Real-Estate agent. Of note, this was the first year that Theresa appeared as well, registered as a Democrat to Herbert's Republican listing. As of the 1930 Census, it appeared that Herbert had all but abandoned music for real estate, which is his listed occupation the Census. However, he reconnected with Sherman Clay in 1932 following the death of their sheet music manager Ed Little. The Music Trade Review of October, 1932, announced that he had been hired as the general manager of the music publishing division of Sherman, Clay & Company. Whether Herbert maintained two occupations is unclear, as there were no occupations listed in the 1932 voter roll. By 1935 the couple had moved to 6025 Malabar Avenue, where they would remain for the rest of their lives. George and Stella had also moved out to Los Angeles and were living with their son and daughter-in-law. All are shown there in the 1936 voter roll with George still working as a baker and Herbert as a manager, but for what is unclear. The same is true for the 1938 roll. Herbert and Theresa evidently never had children.It was clear that Herbert was still involved with Sherman Clay in the mid 1930s, given a lawsuit in which he was named as a party. According to the Oakland Tribune of November 23, 1939, "Crooner Bing Crosby, Bandman Harry Owens and Paramount Movie Studio were sued for $500,000 today by Myrtle R. Hoffman, who charged her song was stolen not once, but twice for the same picture. Miss Hoffman complained that her tune, 'Roses, Lovely Roses Bring Dreams to Me,' was sung twice by Crosby in his picture 'Waikiki Wedding.' One variation was entitled 'Leilani' and the other 'Sweet Leilani,' she said. Also sued were Sherman Clay & Co. of New York [sic] and its former employee, Herbert B. Marple, who she charged brought a copy of her song here and collaborated with Owens in plagiarizing it." The disposition of the lawsuit was difficult to discover, but it likely did not go very far at that time or there would be a more permanent record of it. By 1940, George's relations were living next door at 2067 Malabar. Over the next decade that residence would be occupied by Matilda Marple, A.C. Marple and Nellie Marple. But Herbert's mother Stella had died by 1940. It is unknown whether Herbert continued in any capacity with Sherman Clay in Los Angeles or pursued work as occupation listings disappeared in the 1940s. George died on July 21, 1948. Theresa followed in 1957. In 1960 Herbert, now approaching 70, was living alone on Malabar. He died in Ventura, California (possibly the hospital in Camarillo) the following January. Thanks go to researcher/performer Nan Bostick, whose great uncle Charles N. Daniels published and co-wrote a couple of Marple's works. She got this biography started with some basic information. The rest was done through research of public and private records and newspapers by the author. | ||||||||
Albert Frederick Marzian was known to ragtime and music historians mostly as publisher Al Marzian and the composer of one rag and a couple of other works for the longest time. There is still only scant information available about his life, even from his helpful descendants. According to World War One draft records and his death certificate he was born in Russia to German parents, which provides some confirmation concerning his most famous pen name, Mark Janza. The family immigrated to the United States in mid-1889 when Albert was 13. Music evidently ran in his large family of eight siblings,
Both Marzian brothers were involved with the Louisville, Kentucky Symphony Orchestra, of which Albert was the conductor for some time. Albert also taught music at the high school level and conducted the Louisville orchestra. His first published piece from 1899 lists him as the conductor of the Columbia Orchestra in Louisville. Except for a time when he was known to possibly be in New Albany, Indiana (perhaps only on paper for publishing purposes), he spent most of his adult life in Jefferson County, Kentucky. Albert appears there in the 1900 Census as a music teacher. Al was married to Myrtle Jacobson in 1900, after having been a boarder in her parent's large home where they continued to live for many years. Her presence in his life was something that at one time played into one of the mysteries of the Marzian legacy. The Marzians appear in 1910 Census with Al listed as a music director in the theater (likely arranger/conductor), living with Myrtle's parents. Even though Marzian was registered for the draft for World War One, it is unclear if he ever served. In the 1920 Census he is listed as a high school music teacher, but still not as a naturalized citizen. Marzian may have performed on at least one piano roll, released in 1924 by QRS on their Concert Series, titled The Mill is in the Black Forest. There is a further possibility, although unconfirmed, that he may have recorded a few rolls for QRS under the name Silvio Marzini. As no other musician of that name existed in public records, and one of the pieces was Marzian's own Evening Chimes, it has not been ruled out as of yet. Albert gained new notoriety in 1926 when his band from Louisville Male High School won the class A prize in the first state school band contest. One late publication showed up in the late 1920s, but the bulk his output was during the ragtime era. He appears again in Louisville in the 1930 Census, now a naturalized citizen. It appears that Albert and Myrtle did not have any children. Alfred had died during the 1920s, and his wife Martha was shown as widowed in 1930, with four sons, Alfred, Charles, Richard and Theodore. Little mention was found for either Albert or Myrtle after 1930. Al Marzian died in Louisville at 72, with Myrtle surviving after 47 years of marriage. One of the more recent discoveries made through evidence, forensic music examination, and educated conjecture by historians Dick Zimmerman and Bill Edwards, was that the greatest composer in his sparse catalog, Mark Janza, was likely Marzian himself. This makes sense taking into account that he was a Russian/Germanic immigrant, where the family name reportedly may have gone back to their Russian heritage. It is there that the derivative root of Marzian (pronounced with a soft j - Mar-jeun) is sometimes Marjanza, either of which could be easily translated into Mar(k) Janza. The significance of this name difference provides clues as to Marzian's stance as a publisher as well as composer. Owning a publishing firm in Louisville, Kentucky, with fellow composer E. Clinton Keithley, then later on his own in New Albany, Indiana, Marzian's own sparse compositions were cleverly written reveries, intermezzos, waltzes, marches, and one entry into the Indian music category, in line with most of what was in his limited catalog. Curiously, he published his Angel Food Rag with Forster Music in Chicago, the only rag piece under his own name. The three Janza pieces were published by Albert himself (understandable given the recent findings), but with his identity otherwise obscured. They may have been rejected by Forster or others as being too complex or hard to market. Marzian may not want to have been directly associated with ragtime on his own marquis, in order to lend a more distinguished view of his "other" works. However, given the brilliance of both Aviation Rag and Lion Tamer, this view may have actually diminished his worth in retrospect. He also published one other rag by Louisville resident Charles A. Reccius, The Stop Rag, in 1913. While it was even speculated for some time that Mark Janza may have been a pseudonym for a female composer, perhaps even the aforementioned Mrs. Marzian, his family and additional research has refuted this as highly unlikely.In a paper on the rags that was researched and composed by Mr. Edwards, then subsequently endorsed in full by Mr. Zimmerman, the forensic evidence of certain unique harmonic patterns, structures, and individual runs were found as common threads between the Janza and Marzian compositions, thus linking them to a high degree of confidence. The same logic was applied to other composers, including Joplin, Lamb, Scott and Matthews in order to bolster the credibility of the specifics of this theory. Among the creative elements that signify Marzian's work are the trios and interludes for Aviation Rag, Angel Food Rag, and Lion Tamer Rag, which are all 32 bar sections with an exciting minor interlude. The descending pattern in Aviation Rag, reportedly written to coincide with Cal Rodgers long and ambitious flight across the U.S. which involved several crash landings (but actually occurred the year following publication), could certainly indicate the descending of an airplane as it approaches the ground no matter the outcome. The trio in Lion Tamer, along with the interlude being one of the most brilliant passages in ragtime composition, certainly evokes the excitement of the circus along with the element of danger experienced when the tamer himself sticks his head in the lion's intimidating mouth. Even with his simple Evening Chimes, Marzian is able to create an atmosphere that musically visualizes a tangible experience. I would like to add a personal note of thanks to both Janet Marzian Lee and her brother Alfred Marzian, who provided additional family information and background while we were able to provide them both some accounting of their uncle's important works and legacy. Also, researcher Reginald Pitts who uncovered a bit more of the heritage through official records. Finally, thanks to historian Ted Tjaden who found a couple of Marzian publications in hard-to-find catalogs. Anybody who is interested in the forensic analysis done by Mr. Edwards on the Marzian/Janza connection is invited to read the white paper on this in Microsoft Word/RTF Format - Revealing the Identity of Mark Janza. |
William R. McKanlass was born on the frontier in Manhattan, Kansas, just as the state was becoming a vital agricultural center, and around the same time as a number of Kansas and Missouri musicians were born as well. In this instance, however, it was likely where the family happened to be at that time, as it was not where he would be raised. William was born to esteemed African-American musician William H. McKanlass of Oklahoma and his Kentucky-born wife (whose name was difficult to find). The elder McKanlass, born around 1858, was trained on the violin but was also an accomplished cornetist. He graduated from the Cincinnati (Ohio) College of Music in 1883, the same year that young Williams sister Patricia was born. His education was enhanced by schooling in Leipzig, Germany and Paris, France, although it is unclear if the family accompanied him there. The McKanlass family had settled in Ohio by the mid 1880s, and W.H. became the first African American music instructor in the Cincinnati Public Schools late in the decade. He was also offered the role of Chief Musician of the U.S. Army Ninth Cavalry, the famed Buffalo Soldiers unit, soon achieving the rank of Captain, under the command of General Edward Hatch. W.H. also taught banjo, violin and voice privately. Some of the information for this biography was extracted from information compiled by Suzette Bronley, whose page can be found at http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~mistcla2/McKanlass.htm. Additional information came from editions of the Port Huron Times Herald in editions from January 9 to January 12, 1937. The cover of Evening Glow Waltzes was obtained from the Toronto Reference Library and the music can be found on the detailed ragtime site of Canadian researcher Ted Tjaden. The remaining information was researched by the author in public records, periodicals and period sources from around the country. |
Frederick Allen Mills enjoyed a career with a true duality, and great success in both facets of his years as a composer (Kerry Mills and a publisher (F.A. Mills). Somehow he managed to keep these facets separate as he did his identities, yet made it all work together. Not much has been written on Mills beyond his role in popularizing cakewalks and his three biggest hits, but this account will hopefully fill out some more details about his life and times in the music business.
Frederick was born to Frederick and Annie Mills in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania less than half a decade after the end of the Civil War. He had two sisters, on older, Florence (1863), and one younger, Caroline (1878). His father Fred was listed as a lecturer, but in what field is unclear. Mr. Mills toured often and spent quite a bit of time away from home, as is evidenced in various city and local census listings. Mills moved his family to Detroit in the late 1870s, and they are found there in the 1880 Census. While the extent of Frederick junior's music training in his earlier years is only mentioned in passing, he obtained skills in theory and harmony, composition, keyboard and stringed instruments. His main focus was initially on the violin, starting as early as age six, and after schooling at the University of Michigan he earned a position as the head of their violin department in 1892, concertizing on the instrument within the next year. It was while in this post at the University that Mills encountered the cakewalk during his touring. The Cakewalk, both the dance and the musical form, was somewhat untamed at that time. While there are many different elements that contributed to its origin and development, the essence of it was a high stepping dance created by blacks who were actually imitating in exaggeration some of the wild and fancy steps they had seen white people execute. It was also the name of the social event, where each couple dressed in their finest clothes. The couple who won with the best walk would literally "take the cake," the prize that was traditional at these events, thus the name.Mills worked with it to create a better template for both the rhythms and form of the dance. His first cakewalk was reportedly completed in 1893. Rastus on Parade is considered by many historians to be the first syncopated cakewalk composed. It is more likely that it was the first one that was notated in a coherent manner to make it viable to publish. In spite of this, Mills found rejection by a number of publishers who did not care for it or know what to do with the piece. However, he believed in both Rastus on Parade and the culture it represented. Mills was said to have adopted the cakewalk as a refined musical protest to the vulgar racial stereotypes that were becoming common in the many "coon songs" that were making the rounds at that time. By 1895, finding this exciting new form more appealing than the classical music he had been performing, and frustrated with the treatment he was getting from publishers, Mills decided to move to New York City and start his own firm. It was there that both the firm of F.A. Mills and the composer Kerry Mills, a derivative of a nickname for Frederick, were born. Rastus on Parade actually made a fairly good splash in its initial run, and through good marketing, Mills managed to get it onto vaudeville stages around Manhattan, and possibly even the entertainment districts of Coney Island. It was not rejected by the black population either, some of who found it refreshing to have some form of their music in print in a positive way. In short order, Mills hired a lyricist to make it into a song, a move that furthered the appeal of the piece now that it was singable. He also sought out more similar material to be published under his new label, and soon became a friend to many on the developing Broadway stage who needed a home for their collective works. Within two years of his launching Mills had a decent catalog of marches, two steps and waltzes, plus early cakewalk songs by stars of the vaudeville houses, including Ben Harney. But he needed a follow-up hit of his own to move things forward. It was in 1897 that Mills composed the cakewalk that would become the admired model for the musical form for the business, and would make it the first true dance sensation of New York's fabled Tin Pan Alley. At a Georgia Campmeeting was his attempt to further the music form while explaining its role. In the forward to the piece Frederick wrote: "This march was not intended to be part of the Religious Exercises... but when the young folks got together, they felt as if they needed some amusement. A Cake Walk was suggested, and held in a quiet place near by - hence this music." It became the template he had hoped for, but not without a second bout of rejections as he tried to place the piece with larger publishers for better distribution. Undaunted, he released it under his own label and got it easily placed on stages throughout the Eastern seaboard.Within months the cakewalk in general had taken over youth and young adults in both black and white communities around the country, creating giddiness for the younger generation while causing some shock and concern for the older generation. Both Georgia Campmeeting and Rastus were made famous by the teams of Williams and Walker Genaro and Bailey on the vaudeville stage. There were many imitators of Mills, and they were often compared to At a Georgia Campmeeting. Many met the challenge, but somehow his was among the most memorable of melodies. A song version soon followed. It didn't hurt that Mills made a couple of deft acquisitions for his catalog either. One in particular, Asleep in the Deep, by Arthur J. Lamb and H.W. Petrie, was a mega hit, especially with stage singers in the basso-profundo field given its final sinking notes. By the end of 1897, the music industry had at least some idea that F.A. Mills was a force to be reckoned with. In early 1899 another Kerry Mills work, Whistling Rufus, did well in the stores as a cakewalk which was soon followed by an unfortunate "coon song" version. In either guise, it created so much buzz that advance orders for his next announced piece, the colorfully named Impecunious Davis, were an unheard of 256,000 copies. It ultimately sold around 750,000 copies, a first rate showing for an instrumental piece. In just four years, Mills, through his own compositions and those of others he had published, had created a craze as well as a place of some respectability for what many considered to be an Afro-American music form. Starting in 1899, some of his cakewalks found their way onto cylinders and discs, including recordings by banjoist Vess L. Ossman and the band of John Philip Sousa. In a matter of three years, Frederick Mills as Kerry had managed to make what was considered to be a black music safe for consumption by a white audience. In the 1900 Census, Frederick was shown living in Manhattan with his recently widowed mother and his sisters, listed as a publisher of music. He had also purchased a ranch near Greenwood Lake in southern New York State where he enjoyed leisure activities like quail hunting and fishing. In early 1900, Mills and his business partner William C. Krensch incorporated as The Mills Supply Company of New York, with an initial capital stock of $15,000. Their intent was to deal in sheet music, books and novelties, and they established the firm at 48 West Twenty-ninth street in Tin Pan Alley near mid-town Manhattan. The imprint on the sheets remained as F.A. Mills. Among those engaged to promote Mills songs on stage was six-year-old James Duffy, who with his father had a mildly popular vaudeville act on the B.F. Keith Circuit and a regular gig at Tony Proctor's theater. Another was prominent ballad singer Thomas F. Kelley. In a move to also promote the instrumental qualities of Mills publications, a catalog of first violin and Bb cornet parts was released of virtually everything song they offered. Even though At A Georgia Campmeeting was meeting with continuing success, one song from 1900 gave the Mills house a great deal of visibility, The Fatal Rose of Red by J. Fred Helf. Maudlin ballads were still in style, and this one took the New York stages and parlors by storm for a time. While Frederick was riding high on his success as both a publisher and composer, it could easily have been a short-lived wave because only three years after he made the cakewalk a staple, piano ragtime and ragtime songs with their more complex and varied rhythms were starting to encroach on the rapidly dating cakewalk. He also had many New York and Chicago performers promoting his pieces, and composer Pete Carroll was an active staff member who was apparently on good terms with many Manhattan performers, getting them to endorse the Mills output. Another member added in 1901 was Frederick J. Hamill who migrated from a position at the Windsor Music Company. Singer Bert Morphy also signed on in 1901, but by the end of the year he would instead go to work for rival publisher E.T. Paull. Among his top employees was Maxwell Silver who ardently promoted the firm. Silver stayed with the firm until its eventual demise in 1915. Mills himself as a composer did not respond immediately to evolving musical trends, but he managed to slip some rags and rag songs into his catalog to help keep it current. In 1902, his Harmony Mose provided at least one entry from Kerry Mills that could be considered a rag. Finally in January of 1902, Mills filed an incorporation to publish music, with his company officially renamed as Kerry Mills Inc.Two of the company's professional managers left the firm in 1901. The first was Paul J. Knox who had been with Mills since he moved to New York. The other, Charles Gebest, left the company to manage The Four Cohans. This worked out in the publisher's favor, however, as the Mills catalog got another boost around this time with addition of Broadway whiz kid George M. Cohan, who had recently separated from his family to strike out on his own. Cohan started publishing his songs with Mills over the next several years. By the time his big hits George Washington Jr. and Forty Five Minutes from Broadway were produced, F.A. Mills had sheet music in homes all around the United States. But there was one particular part of the U.S. that would be his next focus. Everybody was talking about the fair. That was the 1904 Louis and Clark World Exposition in St. Louis, originally due to open in 1903, but due to technical issues, such as the necessity of building a power plant for the millions of lights around the fair grounds, was delayed by nearly a year. This only added to the allure, and for composers all over, the opportunity to capitalize on the buzz around this must-see event. While there were many fine marches and rags in print by opening day, as well as songs extolling the joys of strolling down the Entertainment Pike, somehow Mills and his infrequent partner Andrew B. Sterling hit upon the right formula. Their song Meet Me In St. Louis, Louis, a pleasant comic waltz with a gaggle of extra verses added for good measure, almost instantly became a national hit due to its simplicity and memorable nature. To cap things off, that and some of his other pieces, like Me and Me Banjo, were recorded on Victor by the band of Sousa alumni Arthur Pryor, and many other early recording artists, including Billy Murray. Mills had repeated the success of Georgia Campmeeting in an even shorter time span, and the piece was quickly adopted as the unofficial anthem of the sensational 1904 event. It was natural, of course, that he attend the fair, which he did in the summer of 1904. For the next two years it appears that Mills was more Frederick than Kerry, concentrating on the publishing end of the business, which was going well in Manhattan and beyond. He had officially become a part of what was now being called "Tin Pan Alley," the lower Manhattan song factory comprised of many recently formed houses, including Jerome H. Remick, Harry Von Tilzer, and Ted Snyder. Mills, operating at that time on West 29th Street, would have his next hit in 1907, reviving him in a big way. Ever since Hiawatha by Charles N. Daniels (as Neil Moret) was published in 1902, and in spite of the fact it was named for the town, not the Native American prince, so-called "Indian-Themed" tunes had been increasingly in vogue. While a couple of these had appeared in the Mills catalog, there were none by the publisher/composer himself. This was remedied with the publication of Red Wing: An Indian Intermezzo early in the year, a piece that has similarities to The Merry Peasant by Robert Schumann, which may have served merely as inspiration. It was quickly followed by Red Wing: An Indian Fable with lyrics added by Thurland Chattaway. This was further supplemented by an edition with a quartet rendition of the chorus appended to the song. The beautiful Hirt cover helped propel this piece in all its forms to the front of the pack, where it remained for many years. A century and more later, Red Wing is among the most popular, and most singable of the songs from this genre. The following year, a Native American girl from the Winnebago reservation was breaking into films, and trying to lay claim as the inspiration for the song, as her name was Princess Redwing. While there is no definitive evidence as to her connection to either way, the publicity did help to sell even more copies well beyond the normal distribution circuit of F.A. Mills Music.In the summer of 1907 Frederick's uncle died, leaving behind a considerable estate of around $600,000 that was shared between him and his sister. Some of it was invested into his own firm, but much of it would disappear into debt over the next several years. He also entered into an enterprise with four other publishers, creating The American Music Stores, a large retail outlet, which opened on 40th Street in early June. Mills was president of the short-lived company. A similar operation, United States Music Stores, was attempted by another cadre of publishers around the same time. Neither lasted terribly long, with sales reverting back to small music stores and the usual retail outlets. After somewhat of a break following Red Wing, Mills was inspired to compose again, as his output increases from 1908 to 1910. There are also indications that he was able to hire more competent help to run the business and decision side of his publishing house, giving him more time to compose. In May of 1908, Max Silver went out to the Pacific Coast to try and secure better sales in the growing region. As reported in the trades, "There can be no question that he will receive a hearty welcome wherever he makes up his mind to stay over, as he is essentially a 'good fellow,' as well as a first-class entertainer." Following the success of Red Wing, Mills as Kerry tried again in 1908 with Sun Bird, which did not move nearly as well. There was a setback to the firm in the second week of December, 1908, when a fire destroyed the general offices and much of the unshipped music stock which was stored on the upper floors. This forced the firm to move to a new location in a hurry in order to get back to business. In 1909 he tried his hand at the Native American genre again with Lily of the Prairie in both intermezzo and song form, resulting in a similar tepid response as that given for Sun Bird. Going back to the style which gave him his initial success, Mills penned Kerry Mills Rag Time Dance and A George Barn Dance, which appeared to give the music consumer more of what they were looking for - easy to play and melodic foot stompers suitable for dancing. Frederick also stepped up his songwriting, with a number of contributions featuring lyrics of Alfred Bryan, a busy man in the music business at that time. There were no big hits, but man of their songs were respectable sellers, as indicated by the volume of remaining copies. For reasons that are unclear, their composing relationship appears to have ended in 1909, as no Mills/Bryan songs are found in later years. Some time before 1910, the Mills family had moved across the Hudson to Montclair, New Jersey, meaning he was now commuting to work in Manhattan, unusual since a vast majority of composers and most publishers chose to live in Manhattan, Brooklyn, or another close by borough. Frederick was shown living in Montclair in the 1910 Census as F.A. Mills, still unmarried, as a Publisher of Music, with Annie, Florence and Caroline. While his output that year was fairly decent for both himself and his publishing catalog, there were no long lasting hits like those of his past and business started to decline. In 1911 Mills enjoyed a minor surge with The Rag Time College Girl, which was interpolated into the stage play The Fascinating Widow. Perhaps dispirited, or overwhelmed by the business end of his firm, Frederick's own compositional output ceases in 1912 and 1913. In his role as publisher Mills became more involved with important business affairs for a time. Near the end of 1912 he and the firm of M. Witmark & Sons filed a joint action against Standard Music Rolls, arguing that their practice of including lyric sheets with song rolls was a violation of the 1909 Mechanical Music Rights law. They won a temporary injunction against Standard in January 1913, in spite of the argument that the lack of lyric sheets made the rolls a less viable commodity for customers. In short order, the practice of stamping lyrics on the rolls was adopted. Since Standard had already stopped distributing the lyric sheets as soon as the suit was filed, the final verdict, rendered in July 1915, awarded the plaintiff of six cents, described as compensation for nominal damages.In the mean time in 1914 Mills had once again returned to the form that had worked so well for him, bringing out Kerry Mills Turkey Trot and Kerry Mills Fox Trot to capitalize on these two latest dance crazes. It appears, based on subsequent records, that Frederick was married around 1914 as well to Margaret A. Mills, but an exact accounting of this has not yet been found. Late in 1914 Mills was contemplating a move to 47th Street near Times Square where many other publishing firms had opened offices or relocated. But other deep issues were looming on the horizon which would impede his progress. Around this time and into 1915, the Cakewalk enjoyed a brief twenty year anniversary revival, which gave a further boost to some of the early Mills works. However, it was not enough to stave off recent problems with the diminishing and aging catalog. The end result was reported in the Music Trade Review of July 3, 1915 as follows: "Fred (Kerry) Mills, doing business as a music publisher under the title of F. A. Mills, Inc., was petitioned into bankruptcy last week by Daniel F. Clancy, Alfred Anderson and Maxwell Silver, it being alleged that preferential payments had been made to certain creditors. No definite statement regarding the assets or liabilities of the concern have been made public. It is declared that an effort will be made to free the business from difficulties and continue it... The present difficulty is attributed to general business depression and a lack of really successful numbers." By August Mills had "filed schedules in bankruptcy, with liabilities of $62,293 and assets of $1,724." The assets, including "pianos, piano stools, desks, filing cabinets, and the usual office equipment material," were ultimately sold off at auction on November 12, 1915. Frederick's troubles continued even after the bankruptcy filing. One example was notice in 1916 stating that: "Daniel L. McCarthy, of New York, has sued Frederick A. Mills, music publisher, in the Circuit Court to recover on a promissory note for $10,000. The note, it is declared, was given by Mr. Mills to Geo. M. Cohan, the actor and playwright, who assigned it to McCarthy." Similar suits for smaller amounts were also filed. Now largely insolvent, Mills ended up selling much of his catalog to other publishers. His pieces were initially bought by the clearing house of Maurice Richmond of the Richmond Music Company for a bit over $3,000, later to be sold to and republished by houses as diverse as Walter Jacobs, Oliver Ditson, Paull Pioneer and Jack Mills, with many of the copyrights bought up by Jerry Vogel from the 1930s to 1950s. In spite of this disheartening loss, Mills still attempted to put something on the market in 1916. The Owl's Cotillion was self-published in Montclair on his The Music Craftmasters label, the only entry known with that logo. Frederick formed a new publishing firm in 1918. As announced in The Music Trade Review of August 17, 1918: "F. A. Mills, who several years ago was prominent among the popular publishers, has again entered the field. His new firm is incorporated under the name of Kerry Mills, Inc., Kerry being the name by which he is best known." It initially brought out one song for the war effort, and the throwback piece Snooky Hollow. Subsequent years saw an output of one piece a year from the aging composer, who appears to have finally put his pen down in 1922. At some point during the 1920s, Frederick left New Jersey for California. He appears there as still married yet living alone in the 1930 Census, listed as a writer. Efforts to find samples of his writing in his last two decades came up rather nebulous, with no confirmable information. It may have been for a magazine or newspaper, and not published books. However, given his location in the early 1930s in Hollywood, variously on Normandie Avenue until 1934 and Melrose Ave through the late 1930s, he was most likely writing or editing for the film industry, or even in radio. Mills spent his final years in Los Angeles. He was in Hollywood with Margaret until at least 1935, then shows as living alone there through the late 1930s, indicating either a divorce or a death. From around 1940 to 1948, the former composer and publisher, who frequently heard At a Georgia Campmeeting incorporated into various Hollywood films, lived in Hawthorne, just off Imperial Highway, next to the current southeast corner of Los Angeles International Airport. He had one final moment of fame in 1944 when his famous song, Meet Me In St. Louis, was used as the title and theme for a Vincent Minnelli film produced by MGM, and starring Judy Garland. Copies of a couple of his works in this ragtime-rich film can be seen on the piano in some scenes. Mills shows up in voter registration, usually as a writer, in 1942, 1944, 1946 and 1948, passing on in near obscurity in December of 1948. Fortunately his music has remained anything but through continuing popularity of St. Louis, Red Wing, the Georgia Campmeeting, and many more examples from the white composer who successfully helped to popularize black music at the beginning of the ragtime era. Thanks go to John Paul Biersach who has helped uncover some additional Mills compositions not readily found by researchers writing on him.
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Harry Mincer lived a relatively quiet life, leaving little information behind on who he was, other than a few musical contributions, one of them a fine early ragtime cakewalk. He was born in Detroit, Michigan to German/Polish Jewish immigrants Barney and Pauline Mincer (or Minzer), and had four other siblings, including Louise (1861 in Poland), Rebecca (1867), Nathan (1871) and Rachel (1877). The family was living near downtown Detroit as of the 1880 Census, with Barney working as a peddler. Harry likely received some private training in piano while growing up.
The next thing heard from Mincer was a pair of works in the late 1890s, published in Chicago, indicating that he had moved there sometime in the 1890s. His waltz and march were followed by a credible entry into the newest genre, the cakewalk. Virginia: Two Step actually has some very tricky syncopations, classifying it as more of a rag. Yet Harry did not consider composition or performance as his main avocation. In the 1900 Census he is shown living in Chicago with his newlywed wife, Pennsylvania native Jennie (Levy) Mincer. He was listed as a piano salesman, a position he would retain for his working career. Their son, Eugene Mincer, was born in the spring of 1901. A pair of songs were released over the subsequent decade with the talented lyricist Roger Lewis, who would soon contribute the lyrics to The Oceana Roll. In the 1910 Census Harry is still listed as a piano salesman.Evidently Harry did not have composing bug, or had little taste for the highly competitive sheet music business, as there would be nothing from him for many years. On his 1918 World War I draft record he is shown as the general manager for the Forster Piano Company, who had possibly been his employer for the past two decades. At age 43 He claimed a hernia as a potential reason to not be drafted, a common hazard in an occupation full of heavy objects like pianos. The 1920 Census shows the family living on East 50th Place a bit outside of the downtown Chicago area, with Harry still the manager of the piano store and the warehouse. In the 1930 Census, Eugene, his new bride Jennie (like his mother) and their toddler were living with Harry and Jennie, with Eugene working in automobile sales, while Harry, now 56, was still the sales manager for Forster. One other composition appears in the 1935 copyright record. However, it is unclear if this was a new entry, or a re-copyright off a piece from the early 1910s. Harry passed on in Chicago in 1953 at age 79. Beyond that, virtually no information on Harry's musical life or cause of death was found. His wife was active in the Jewish community in Chicago through the 1950s, based on some newspaper mentions. Otherwise, as always, any additional clues from relatives or family friends on Harry's life would be welcomed and properly acknowledged. |
Little is known about the early life of Melville Morris, but what details were found are presented here, some for the first time. He was born in New York to an English immigrant of German descent, Gustave Morris, and his wife Minnie (Greenwald) Morris, a New York native. Gustav worked for many years as a telegrapher, a skill that was still quite necessary until telephones became more common in offices and households. Melville was the oldest of three children, including younger sisters Carrie and Anna. He was educated in the New York Public School system and received some additional music education in piano, harmony and theory.Once out of school, Mel, a fine pianist and first rate sight reader, started working as a music demonstrator pianist for some of the Tin Pan Alley publishing houses. In 1907 he was first hired to the staff of Hager Company as a song demonstrator. Late in the year he was picked up by rapidly growing publisher Jerome H. Remick & Company as an arranger and song plugger. The 1910 Census indicates that he was a music publisher, but it was more likely that he was working in music for a publisher, as he was also still living with his parents. His first published composition came in 1911, That Ragtime Regiment Band, with lyrics by experienced writer A. Seymour Brown. Morris married Dorothy Kresner in late 1910 in New York. In the early teens Mel started working in Vaudeville as an entertainer and pianist, as well as his crossover "day job" with publishers, mostly for Remick, featuring their tunes. In 1912 and 1913 he was also prominently associated with the George W. Meyer Music Company. His playing was highly regarded, and a review in a 1911 New York Clipper stated that "Mel Morris' 'Oh You Beautiful Doll' makes the audience cry for encores." He was the accompanist for singer Lillian Lorraine at Hammerstein's Theater in 1912 and 1913. Listings from 1913 and later indicate that Mel cut some piano rolls for the Rhythmodik label. A newspaper article shows him to also have been a member of The Knights of Harmony, a large men's choir made up of several Tin Pan Alley composers and song pluggers. When the New York Clipper held their annual song contests in the mid 1910s, Mel was usually the default pianist for those who could not bring their own. Morris was one of the charter members of ASCAP in 1914. Mel's most popular piece came out in 1915. On the heels of the growing trend of animal dances, he composed The Kangaroo Hop, which was both imaginative and simple. It did well enough that Remick released it as a song with lyrics by Gus Kahn the following year. Even a young George Gershwin took a whack at this piece, committing it to a fine piano roll rendition, as did novelty pianist Charley Straight. Mel had a limited success with his next piece, Tiddle-De-Winks, which was composed in the direction of the coming trend of novelty piano. By 1917 Melville and Dorothy had a son, Morton M., and a daughter, Roslyn E. He listed himself as a promanager at Jerome H. Remick on his draft record, and he was indeed one of the firm's professional managers. Mel's final known published composition, Down Around the River at the Dixie Jubilee, was a favorite of early jazz bands for a while.In the late 1910s Mel went to work for Paul Whiteman, the future so-called "king of jazz," who was building up his orchestra at this time. In April of 1918 he was engaged as a professional manager for Leo Feist, Incorporated, and took out an ad in the trades noting the address, and that he would "be pleased to greet his many friends." Morris ventured to England for a short while where he helped write a musical comedy, You'd Be Surprised, but his role in this is unclear. Back in the states, his Picadilly Players, a subset of the Whiteman Orchestra, became a house band for Edison Records, recording several diamond discs for the company into the 1920s. When Remick's lead professional manager, Mose Gumble, was promoted to general supervisor in 1919, Morris was brought back full time in to fill that role. Even though he had been with the firm for many years, and was returning after barely a year with Feist, Morris took out a similar ad as he had before in the trades noting that he wised to "announce to his many friends in the profession that he is now connected with Jerome H. Remick & Co." Soon after that, in 1920, Morris, a member of the Freemasons, took his thirty-second degree and became a member of the Mystic Shrine. Mel eventually left Remick in December 1921 to work as a staff arranger or promoter for publisher Fred Fisher. He moved on from there in August 1922 to help manage the new publishing house of Joe Mittenthal. That same year Morris wrote special music for a touring vaudeville burlesque, the Big Fun Show staged by "Sliding Billy" Watson and produced by Dan Dody. He also wrote and arranged other revues produced by Dody, including Folly Town featuring 17 of his numbers, and burlesque shows at the lively Peek Inn. None of the music appears to have been published. Another burlesque followed in 1923, Bubble, Bubble, produced by William K. Wells, and featuring at least 14 musical numbers by Mel, none of which have evidently survived. Bubble, Bubble played for two years in various venues. Morris finally left the publishing world for performance in the mid 1920s, hired as the manager for Whiteman's many groups. He played with often in live performances and on the radio, and perhaps for some recordings (difficult to substantiate). Morris was still in this role with Whiteman until the Great Depression bore down on the country, then started working with his own groups. His Piccadilly Players were once again retained to record on the new "Needletype" records produced by Thomas Edison. Around two weeks after the October 1929 announcement, Edison completely pulled out of the phonograph business, just two days before the stock market collapsed. Mel listed himself in the 1930 Census as an orchestra director in Manhattan. In the 1930s he did work with radio orchestras, managing, arranging and playing for them. Gustave Morris died in late 1932 and Minnie moved in with Mel and Dorothy. Roslyn was married in early 1936 to Theodore Walter of New York. As of 1942 when he filled out his draft card, Mel listed himself as self-employed at home as a musician, though in what capacity is uncertain. After that, the composer all but disappeared from public view for the next 45 years. Melville Morris died in 1987 at the age of 98 in Long Beach, Nassau County, New York. When more information is available about his later years, this page will be updated to reflect the findings. Additional information is always welcome, of course. | ||||||||||
Will B. Morrison was an interesting figure in ragtime, less for his personal music contributions than for his drive and promotion, clearly with a passion for the music. While his role started out more as a composer, he ended up with some historical importance as a publisher, and finally an arranger. Will was born to John B. Morrison and Emma Morrison in rural Seymour, Indiana. His father shows up as a merchant in Indianapolis starting in the early 1890s, so the family was clearly in place there for Will's secondary schooling. What musical training or college he had is unclear, but he did have the capability to notate and arrange music, potentially the result of classes in piano, harmony and theory. | ||||||||||
Responsible for what is largely considered to be the world's first published piano rag, Theodore H. Northrup represents yet another important and prolific contributor to the music of the ragtime era, yet very little is known about him personally. Some additional information is here that has not been previously researched, many of which are assorted items of interest concerning his early life. Information on Northrup's early operas and his mother's career comes from her biography in The Bay of San Francisco, Volume 2, pages 458-459, Lewis Publishing Co, 1892. Thanks go to ragtime researcher Reginald Pitts who found the sighting of Northrup in Pueblo, bring some sense of completion to Northrup's life story. The remaining information was assembled from various public records and historical printed sources. | ||||||
Joseph C. Northup is known pretty much for only one piano rag. But that one rag is a doozy, a challenging piece that is still a favorite of performers and audiences alike more than a century after its composition. It was indicator of the direction that Northup wanted to go in his life, but in spite of a single success not everything works out quite the way one would hope. Thanks go to Jeffrey Hartmann who found some additional information on Joesph and Helen in Long Beach in the 1940s. | ||||
Abe Olman was born Abraham Olshewitz in Cincinnati, Ohio, to Julius Olshewitz from Russia and Carolina (Goetz) Olshewitz from Germany. His California death certificate indicates 1888 as the year, but his Social Security and military records tend to agree with an 1887 date, as do the Census records on average. Abe's father was in the second hand furniture business in Cincinnati. He received nominal music training both in the school system and through private lessons. In the early 1900s Abe got a job as a traveling music salesman, schilling to stores in the Ohio/Kentucky/Indiana area. He had his first pieces published in Cincinnati by the stalwart publisher Sam Fox, including Moon Face in 1907 and Violetta in early 1908. | ||||||
Early Years in Virginia
Edward Taylor Paull was born the oldest of three children to Henry Washington Paull and Margaret C. (Thornburg) Paull in pre-Civil War Gerrardstown in what is now West Virginia, as Virginia had not yet been divided. Edward was the oldest of three children, including Laura May (5/23/1859) and Mary C. (12/27/1861). Henry Paull attempted a variety of occupations according to census listings. He was shown as a miller in 1850, a farmer in 1860, and boarding house keeper in 1870, the latter vocation of which he was successful enough to buy a great deal of land in Martinsburg after the end of the war. Young Edward certainly witnessed the ravaging effects of the war as it not only affected life in the Shenandoah River Valley but divided the state of Virginia politically as well, eventually splitting it into two states. The lasting memories of this are often reflected later in his compositions and covers.
Paull eventually found work in his late teens in a the J.S. Caroll music store in Martinsburg selling pianos and organs, and likely sheet music as well.
One of the first published notices of Paull appears in The Music Critic and Trade Review of September 20, 1881. "Mr. Edward T. Paull, of Martinsburg, West Virginia, called upon us a few days ago, while in this city, on matters connected with his music business. Mr. Paull handles the Decker Bros, and Weber pianos and the Estey and Loring & Blake organs in the State of West Virginia, having his headquarters in Staunton, a branch in Martinsburg, and sub-agencies throughout the State. Mr. Paull reports an active market in his section for the above makers' instruments at which we are not surprised, for they are fine goods and need no bush to proclaim them." Among the first writings of Paull in association with the music industry is the following letter excerpted from the February 20th edition of The Music Critic and Trade Review concerning local business. MARTINSBURG, W. VA., February 9, 1882.
I have nothing special to report to you from this section of the country, as far as musical entertainments are concerned. The demand for musical instruments here and throughout the valley of Virginia is becoming much better than it was heretofore. I do a good business with the Estey organ and Weber and Fischer pianos. I flatter myself that I sold the last piano that was sold in the year 1881. I sold it and closed the bargain just one hour and a half before New Year's day, or half past ten o'clock at night. The piano I sold was a J. & C. Fischer square, the purchaser being Mr. Phillip Rodes, of Strasburg, Va. There may have been a piano sold later in 1881, but I doubt it. Yours, very respectfully, EDW. T. PAULL. Paull appears again with a letter in March 20th, 1882 edition of the same paper, this time perhaps living in Winchester, Virginia. He wrote concerning questionable practices by the D.F. Beatty Piano and Organ Company in New Jersey which were under investigation . It is partially excerpted here:
WINCHESTER, VA., March 2, 1882.
Editor of THE MUSICAL CRITIC AND TRADE REVIEW: Sir — I read a rather long article in your February edition of THE MUSICAL CRITIC AND TRADE REVIEW about D. F. Beatty's methods of doing business. I suppose there are undoubtedly numerous transactions of the Hon. D. F.'s that never come to light which would prove to the better thinking class of people that his Highness was not the extremely kind friend that he styles himself to be to the dear confiding public. One of his transactions has recently come under my observation, and I will mention the circumstances connected with it, and would like to ask IS THIS A BEATTY SCHEME? The facts are as follows: A Mrs. Wilson, residing at Strasburg, Va., on December 17 or 18, sent D. F. Beatty a check for $63 for one of his Mozart organs. The check was duly forwarded by Mr. Beatty to the proper bank and the money was collected for the same. Mr. B. acknowledged receipt of check. In the course of correspondence he promised immediate shipment of the organ... Mrs. Rodrick desired the organ for a Christmas gift to her children, but Christmas, New Year, and the middle of January came, but no organ... She wrote Mr. Beatty to please forward the money to her. He wrote her, however, stating that her organ would be shipped very soon, and after waiting quite awhile, she wrote about it again. He replied that it would be impossible to fill her order under thirty days, or more, for that particular style of organ, but if she desired he could ship her one of his 'Beethoven 27-stop Organs' immediately, but it would cost her $30 more... She hasn't received the organ yet, although March is here, and from all accounts I suppose she will be quite lucky if she gets it by next December. The question, however, that arises is this: Is this a Beatty scheme? A kind of patent process to "bleed" customers, or not? It is seemingly characteristic of the American people to permit themselves to be humbugged. They cannot be blamed very much, for any one who reads the flaming advertisements of the 'Honorable,' and have long articles of his Mayorship thrust in their faces, should almost consider it an honor to have dealings with such a noted person. They imagine that Washington, N. J., must be the London of America, as they hardly ever read of the Mayors, etc., of such villages as New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Cincinnati, or Chicago. It is surely time that such misrepresentations as he sets forth in his advertisements should be brought to light, and I know of no better medium than your worthy paper, THE MUSICAL CRITIC AND TRADE REVIEW. Very respectfully, EDWARD T. PAULL It is reasonable to assume that Paull had received some form of music education during his upbringing which allowed him to be able to effectively demonstrate both the instruments and the music, and may have even dabbled in light composition by his early 20s when he became a manager and then a traveling instrument salesman. However Edward evidently was not as capable of managing his personal financial life, and either the market became saturated or the debt that comes from having to front a number of instruments overcame him. His father H. Washington Paull sold off some of his property assets to pay of some of his son's debts of $2,750 in 1885 and 1886. Paull then moved to Richmond, Virginia, possibly to make a fresh start of things, where he managed the Sanders and Stayman music store for a time. He married Gertrude A. Kern, born in Winchester, Virginia (3/12/1864), around 1892. Their daughter Edna Page Paull was born the following year. It was at this time that Paull decided to venture into composition and publishing, doing so in a very grand manner.
In late 1890, Paull had partnered with John G. Corley who he appears to have known, or worked with for nearly a decade by that time, to acquire the Richmond branch of Sanders & Stayman of Baltimore, Maryland, and renamed it the Richmond Music Company. As noted in a Music Trade Review notice of January 5, 1891, "The new company will sell pianos and organs direct from the factories to the public, thus securing to purchasers the lowest possible prices." There was no initial mention of sheet music made. It was in 1880 that General Lew Wallace published his epic novel, Ben Hur - A Tale of the Christ, a book which actually deepened the author's Christianity as he wrote it. Ben Hur was soon adapted for the stage using phenomenal sets and staging techniques, including a sometimes dangerous chariot race with real horses on a treadmill, that would not be eclipsed in the theater for nearly eight decades. With a topic that was a sure thing to sell, Paull penned his first descriptive piece, The Chariot Race or Ben Hur March. To ensure potential sales, he commissioned a five-color lithograph cover from the A. Hoen Company of Richmond depicting the famous fictional race. Until this time, Hoen was known largely for cartography from their Baltimore office, and brightly colored cigar boxes from the Richmond branch. Paull released the work through his Richmond Music Company.The piece was nearly instantly successful. It even featured a congratulatory letter from General Wallace printed inside during the first few years of publication. (In later years when the initial silent movie version of Ben Hur was released by newly-formed M.G.M. in 1925, and it was subsequently performed by the Sousa band, there was a resurgence of interest in the Paull composition largely by association.) Ben Hur was quickly followed by The Old Man's Story and/or The Strangers Story (which are the same piece with different titles). Soon to follow was The Della Fox Little Trooper March and Two Step by W.O. Johnson, dedicated to a famed stage performer of the time. The latter also featured a fabulous color cover from the A. Hoen Company, a trend which would continue for some three decades. What Might Have Been by Castell Brydges was published in March of 1896. This and all of his subsequent pieces soon appeared under his own imprint featuring the soon-to-be-famous footer for the E.T. Paull Publishing Company. New York Successes
In late April 1896 Paull moved to New York City where he would remain for the rest of his life. There were notices in the Richmond papers during the third week of April that Corley was selling off all assets of the E.T. Paull Publishing Company there. Paull set up shop at 20 East 17th Street in Manhattan. His next descriptive piece was Charge of the Light Brigade, registered in June of 1896, and the first of many commemorating famous military campaigns. Even though Paull was now nearly 300 miles from Richmond, where Light Brigade was undoubtedly started, he continued to use Hoen's services based on their fine work with the five color lithography process. The Paulls moved into a nice home in the Mt. Vernon neighborhood at 210 South Fifth Avenue, up towards Yonkers, several miles north of his office.
Paull's descriptive pieces, of which many would be published over the next two and a half decades, were usually prefaced with a rather verbose and detailed "Explanatory" about the event, and there were subtitles throughout each one indicating the action that the music was supposed to represent. This was likely more for the edification of the pianist than the listening audience, as it was unlikely that the pianist or even a narrator would read these titles as the piece was performed. Whether it was due to this unique quirk, the general simplicity and interchangeability of his marches, the eye-catching brightly colored covers or a combination of all these that sold his sheet music, it cannot be denied that Paull was providing the public with a product that they felt they needed since his pieces sold well.In late 1897 Paull relocated his company to 44 West 29th Street. He hired composer Jesse Campbell as his professional manager, who was largely responsible for promoting the publisher's works to stage performers and music outlets. On the chilly evening of February 1st, 1898, while Paull and his family were down south visiting in West Virginia, the pipes in his Mt. Vernon home burst, owing to the extreme cold and the fact that his water had not been properly shut off. The descriptions of the home with icicles hanging from the chandeliers and a glacier coming down the staircase were printed in various New York papers. When Paull returned home on February 2nd, he found the damages to likely be in the area of around $5,000, enough to inspire him to compose another one of his "disaster" marches, The Ice Palace to help pay for the recovery. A lithograph of his parlor was featured on the cover of the timely work. Evidently, the damage was worse than initially reported. In mid April 1898, the New York Times announced E.T. Paull's purchase a three story brownstone at 226 West 105th Street in upper Manhattan, which was of considerable size 55 by 100 feet. His company now prospering, Paull also continued to take on some works of other composers, often asserting that they were "Arranged by E.T. Paull" on the cover, although the extent to which he altered them, if at all, is largely unknown. The most memorable of these is Harry Lincoln's Midnight Fire Alarm from 1900, the best selling piece in his catalog not composed by its publisher. Lincoln went on to a successful career with Vandersloot Music in Pennsylvania, but aside from Repasz Band was never able to capture the same magic that made Paull-published works so successful, including his own. Meanwhile, Paull made some attempts at popular music forms, including the cakewalk, as well as classical styles including waltzes and light parlor music. He published a folio of such works by himself and others in the early 1900s. In early 1900 Paull and his family took a brief trip to Mexico, and as a result they were skipped by the Federal Census takers. He then accompanied his wife and daughter to Europe aboard the Batavia. They were abroad for three months, according to his passport and some mentions in The Music Trade Review. While in Germany he attended a John Philip Sousa Band concert, and was both surprised and flattered to hear them perform his most recent piece, Dawn of the Century. Shortly after his return from this journey Paull's company moved into new spacious quarters utilizing two floors of 46 West 28th Street, where he would remain for several years. Paull took one of his only known trips to the Midwest, and possibly Western United States in mid 1901. According a notice in The Music Trade Review of June 8, "E. T. Paull is shortly to make a trip West, when he will give his many friends who have never seen him a chance to find out what sort of a man this march and waltz composer is. They will find out that composing is not his only good point." Business was steadily expanding in 1901, so Paull hired famous Australian baritone singer Bert Morphy to look after his professional department, which had recently been abandoned by Jesse Campbell. He also hired singer Harry Rogers, "The Original Bowery Boy," as an active promoter and performer of his works. Perhaps it was at Bert Morphy's urging, in an effort to associate the Paull Company with the latest musical trends, that the publisher briefly acquired the services of the brilliant ragtime pianist and composer Mike Bernard. The following announcement appeared in The Music Trade Review of September 28, 1901. "One of the best known piano players in the country is Mike Bernard. He has won many contests for piano playing, and is well known throughout the continent. Mr. Bernard has joined the forces of the E. T. Paull Music Co., and will devote all his time to furthering the firm's interests and he will doubtless prove a valuable acquisition in every way. He has just written the music to a clever song entitled 'Since Sally's in the Ballet,' Vincent B. Bryan having written the words. Another good number by Mike Bernard is 'The Phantom Dance...' With Bert Morphy - the general manager, Mike Bernard and Harry Rogers, things should certainly hum at 46 West Twenty-eighth street, New York." Another notice in the October 26 edition of the same journal noted that "Mike Bernard, well known as the champion long distance piano-player, and who 'banged the box' six seasons at Tony Pastor's, is now the manager of the professional bureau of the E.T. Paull Music Company... He informed The Review that he is going to spring a surprise on the public soon. What it is he will not say." Other than the two publications mentioned, nothing more of Bernard's appeared under the Paull logo, and perhaps the surprise turned out to be that their association was somewhat short-lived.After a steady string of colorfully-covered pieces, it was in 1903 that Paull most successfully combined all of the elements of descriptive music, exciting narrative, sensational cover and a literally hot topic, in a piece that featured a historical disaster, The Burning of Rome. It remained in publication for nearly two decades in varying forms, and was followed by such other disaster-themed works as The Roaring Volcano. Paull also focused on patriotic figures and events, composing a number patriotic marches that attempted to approach the caliber of those by the famous Marine Band leader and his friendly rival, John Philip Sousa. He also actively promoted the works of others under his label to great acclaim. One example concerns A Signal From Mars by Raymond Taylor, "arranged" by Paull. According to a 1902 snippet, which inadvertently does not even mention the composer, "The E. T. Paull Music Co. have placed a re-order of twenty thousand copies for their new march, 'A Signal from Mars,' which makes sixty thousand copies in a little over three and a half months that have been ordered of this piece and since it was first placed on the market. The manner in which this march has 'caught on' is amazing. The extraordinary large sale that it has had so early shows that the musical public do not hesitate to take anything that E. T. Paull writes or arranges. It is certainly a compliment to his ability as a march writer." Later advertising rectified the oversight. Not too much was known about E.T. Paull's private life. However, comments in trade magazines by his peers indicate that in spite of his sometimes bombastic "best march yet" advertising he was a rather humble person, and enjoyable company, usually with a good story or two to tell. The energetic Paull was relatively tall at 5'11", and moderately athletic in build. He was more often than not hurrying from place to place, but also stopping for a moment to enjoy a good cigar, something that bore printed mention from time to time. One sport that E.T. appeared to be particularly good at was bowling. According to a 1908 mention in the trades, "E. T. Paull for the third consecutive season won the first prize in the bowling contest of the Alhambra Club. In sixty-nine games his average was 172. Verily, is Paull the Apostle of Bowling." While Paull was certainly a "do-it-yourself" type of composer, not only constructing the naming his pieces, and specifying the contents of the cover art, there was one rare instance in which he enticed the public to get involved with his work by offering $10 in gold coin to whomever could provide a good name for his latest march in 1908. Out of some three thousand titles that were submitted, the one sent in by Mr. W.C. Bales, appropriately a member of the Sheffield Advertising Agency, was picked as the winning entry. The publicity behind the naming of The Home Coming March and Mr. Paull's payout was sufficient to assure good sales of the piece. Curiously, just before it was sent into print the discovery was made that his composer credit was not on the cover, to which he was quoted as having remarked, "By Gemini! You're right; I never noticed it." To Germany and Back Again
During the 1910s he prospered through expansion, having added four-hand piano and band arrangements of his works to his catalog, as well as promoting his works to the piano roll industry. In 1910 he and Gertrude are shown with their daughter Edna, a servant, and three lodgers in their Manhattan brownstone. It was hard to argue with Paull's success as a publisher, perhaps even more so than as a composer, because with little in the way of ragtime-based output he was still making a splash in the music stores and was well regarded by others in the industry. An article on him in the March 12, 1910 edition of The Music Trade Review, partially quoted here, gave some insight to this success from his contemporaries:
In one corner of a quiet, cosy, well-appointed suite of offices in West Twenty-eighth street stands a whirring, clicking instrument known as a New York Stock Exchange ticker. It seems to be rather an anomaly in the office of a music publisher,
and yet the proprietor of the establishment is seen to go over to it occasionally during the day and study the cabalistic signs set out on the narrow tape that runs through his fingers. The music publisher at the ticker is E.T. Paull, America's new "march king." We do not know what the stock quotations have to tell him... The point is that the stock ticker is there—the only one to be found in the office of a New York music publisher.Why is it there, and what kind of a business is this that enables a man to have cause to keep in instant touch with the changing values of securities?... Mr. Paull's colleagues, or competitors — call them what you will - have known for some time that here is a man of means, one of the comparatively few such in the business of publishing popular music. And anyone who is at all cognizant of the situation knows that the business of the E. T. Paull Music Co. is unique; that it is, in fact, in a class by itself. Here is no great mass of "dead" numbers. No piles of music are gathering dust in the store room, waiting to be sold as old paper. No "hits" of a former year, now forgotten, defy attempts to revivify them. Instead, Mr. Paull pursues the even tenor of his way, the envy of some publishers and the admiration of all issuing just two march or two-step numbers each year. ...All of this composer-publisher's previous numbers, in fact, still enjoy steady sale. They are what may be called standard sellers, with an established clientele. One of the more recent of his productions was the "Lincoln Centennial Grand March," issued last year as a felicitous memorial of the event which the entire country celebrated early in 1909. This march, from a musical standpoint, was undoubtedly Mr. Paull's greatest composition up to that time. It was, furthermore, the only grand march, in the full meaning of that term, written for several preceding years... Such is the vocation of the publisher in whose office the stock ticker whirrs merrily through the day. With a clean, quiet, wholesome business he has gained for himself fame and fortune. With the latter, and with what private message the ticker clicks off to him daily, we have no concern. In brief, it is none of our business. In its broad scope, however, it is interesting to publishers and music dealers in general, as showing that a sound business position can be gained by a combination of ability and foresight, unmixed with the jealousies, the throat-cutting methods, and the trade evils which hold in thrall many less prosperous publishers. One of the secrets of the success of this house, for we may conjecture if we may not pry, we believe to be the foresight of the proprietor and the characteristic of learning what conditions are, then accepting them as such and meeting them with businesslike spirit... Mr. Paull said: "It is no longer to be doubted that so-called popular music is rapidly falling, in average level, to a retail price of ten cents a copy. This condition of cut prices has been brought about largely by over-production. The supply exceeds the demand, so that cut rates have been indulged in for the creation of a market. It would be hard to fix the actual blame for all this, as it has been due to a series of circumstances over which no one seemed to have actual control. Ten cents is a fair price for much of what is offered on the market, but publishers who offer a good grade of music are confronted with that handicap which is placed on their business. They must follow suit or lose business, since they cannot raise their publications to a level with the classic and the high-grade... As for myself, I simply recognized that the day of high prices had passed. I held out against the lower rates for two years. Finally I yielded, and soon was getting the larger orders to offset the lower prices. In the end I have come to feel that the fight against the new order of things was wasted energy, since one must seize opportunities that actually exist, and not expect to succeed by jousting at the windmills of what ought to be, nor by following visions of trade chimeras that retreat as one advances toward them." Note that a follow-up article later in the year announced that the stock ticker had been removed from Paull's office, but that he still appeared satisfied with "the results of what it used to tell him.
As commander of the Eastern department of the Minute Men, Mr. Paull was one of a guard of honor of five accompanying the Deutsche Kriegerbund for a tour of the Fatherland. The Kriegerbund is made up of men who are veterans of the German army, and the trip of 150 members through that country was made the occasion for some grand ovations accorded officially by the cities through which they passed...
"The tour through Germany was made something of a hands-across-the-sea affair, on account of the American flag which the guard of honor bore. In several places this guard, with the flag, appeared where no other flag foreign to Germany had ever before been permitted. 'The trip was an ovation from start to finish, and what with parades, receptions, banquets, and so on, we could hardly have endured more of a welcome, if more had been offered. After proceeding up the Elbe River we found a big reception awaiting us at Hamburg, where we landed. We were received by the high senate, which constitutes the government of Hamburg... At Dresden was perhaps the finest of all the fine receptions and banquets, although that at Hanover was but little behind it. At Dresden the banquet was attended by 1,500 persons. At Hanover we were received by a committee of 1,000 citizens, all in double-breasted frocks and high hats. At Berlin we attended a review of 25,000 troops, ours being the first organisation to bear an American flag on Templehofer Field..." The other places visited were Mains, Frankfort (where even the housetops were crowded in welcome), Karlsruhe, Stuttgart, Munich and Regensburg, where the trip ended. Mr. Paull himself proceeded to Vienna, Budapest, Venice, Milan, Paris, Brussels, Antwerp and London. While he was away, he says, he did not have five minutes' time to devote to any thoughts of the music business. The company moved to mid-town Manhattan around May 1910, now working out of a four floor office building at 243 West 42nd Street, right on the fringe of the theater district. By 1915, many other firms would follow Paull to Times Square, which for a time would become a new center of music publishing. E.T. Paull music would remain in that desirable location until 1925. There was a lot of buzz, some of it coming from Paull's publicity machine, about many of his pieces in advance of their publication. In 1910 his ambitious Napoleon's Last Charge, a musical description of the Battle of Waterloo, drew critical acclaim. One description noted that, "a notable passage in the new march, as we can say of personal knowledge, is a bass solo which underlies the harmony that pictures to the listener the awful charge under full headway. This was written into the number by Mr. Paull himself, and makes the march not only of positively distinctive character but increases its merits most remarkably." Similar hype came with his 1912 publication of The Roaring Volcano One typical publicity story read as follows: "The E.T. Paull Music Co., which has won enviable success through the publication of the famous E.T. Paull marches at the rate of about two each year, bids fair to add to its laurels when the latest Paull march, 'Roaring Volcano,' is before the trade and public. Certainly in the new number, Mr. Paull has secured a firmer grip than ever on his honorary title of 'The New March King,' for it is a descriptive piece of fascinating brilliancy and capably arranged for piano and orchestra." In many ways, it was an advancement of his famous The Burning of Rome from 1903, but did not have the same sales success at a time when piano rags and ragtime songs dominated much of the popular market. The brilliant Hoen cover likely saved it from a more tepid retail rate.
A notable release was that of The Egyptian Glide in 1914, which Paull published simultaneously in two different versions. In advertising this piece composed by Syrian born bandleader Alexander Maloof, the publisher was hitting not only on the current trend for one-steps as well as the evolving tango.
In 1915 Paull was compelled to pull a 1913 publication from the market, his own Kaiser Jubilee March, which had been published simultaneously in Germany and the United States. The composer had revisited Europe, and Germany in particular, from August to October 1913 for the Kaiser's 25th anniversary, the event for which the march was composed. He participated in another Minute Man ceremony in Leipzig with the unfurling of the American flag at a monument celebrating the battle of Leipzig a century before. Paull and his Minute Men later went to Berlin to meet the Kaiser. The return from this trip on the Bremen could have been his last, as they met with treacherous weather during the thirteen-day voyage that threatened to sink the ship. Following this trip it was clear that the composer held the ruler in high regard, composing the tribute. However, given the growing tensions in war-torn Europe in 1915 and western sentiments turning against Germany, this work with the beautiful cover featuring a relief bust of the monarch was likely viewed as increasingly inappropriate to remain in print. From late January to mid February 1915, Paull served jury duty for a New York Supreme Court case. His comment on that obligation was that being a good citizen is a long way from being good business. Soon after this he released his ambitious Battle of the Nations in a stunning run of 100,000 copies, one of the first of such pieces associated with the ongoing war in Europe. He also made a couple of ventures into publishing film theme songs at a time when live music was the primary soundtrack for a movie. The Final March
Adjustments had to be made during "The Great War" around 1917 to 1919, which necessitated conservation of ink and paper. As a result, many of the pieces reissued at this time were cropped from large format size to what is now considered standard format (in response to U.S. Government requests to all publishers). Paull was part of this movement in his role in the Music Publisher's Association, and is mentioned in a series of cables to the London Music Publisher's Association concerning universal adoption of the new format. "June 11, 1918. London Music Publishers' Association, London: National Association of Sheet Music Dealers strongly recommend English publishers adopt nine and a quarter inches by twelve and a quarter inches for sheet music. Same adopted for America. Greatly desire uniform size account shelving and display. Received general public approval here. R. W. HEFFELFINGER, Secretary. June 12, 1918. London Music Publishers' Association, London: Music Publishers' Association, United States, heartily endorses and urges adoption of National Association of Sheet Music Dealers resolution regarding suggested new size sheet music., E. T. PAULL, Secretary."
During the war some Paull publications were even printed without the color plates in a single ink color using the black or top layer stones, showing only the outlines of the famed lithographs. Even so, previously vivid covers like that for The Triumphant Banner still had a high-class quality about them due to the fine illustration work that was the foundation for Paull covers. One Paull march from 1918, Pershing's Crusaders, which was brought out with the permission of the United States Government and the Committee on Public Information, was adopted by the Seventy-seventh Division of the U.S. Army, a great honor for the composer. Another in frequent demand overseas during the war was Hurrah! For the Liberty Boys, Hurrah!. Near the end of the war the composer brought out a new printing of the timely Herald of Peace March from 1914. Following the end of the conflict, Paull's 1919 entry honored the U.S. allies in the war, Spirit of France. One of the more unusual offerings by the firm in 1919 was Armenian Maid composed by M. Alexander and Wilbur Weeks. It was a characteristic "Oriental song and fox-trot," dedicated to Miss Aurora Mardiganian, an Armenian actress who played herself in the 1919 biographical film Auction of Souls. Included with this sheet was an insert with a picture of the actress and a short history of "some of the trials she and her people went through during the war period." Taking up a cause on behalf of the composers, Paull advertised that a portion of the profits derived from the sale of the number were contributed to the Armenian Relief Fund. On December 20, 1919, Paull's daughter Edna was married to Uriah Carl H. Vinson of Alabama at a spectacular wedding which took place in his palatial Manhattan home on West 143rd Street. Edward and Gertrude were still shown as living in upper Manhattan in 1920, and Edna and her new husband Carl were lodging with them.
One more spectacular grand march was released in 1922, although with a colorful cover by the Starmer Brothers rather than the A. Hoen company. Custer's Last Charge actually eclipsed many previous Paull releases with descriptive passages of Native American chants and horses racing through the wind. The Paulls also became grandparents with the birth of Elizabeth P. Vinson that same year. After a flurry of other post-war patriotic victory marches, Paull's business decreased as the buying public started to embrace the jazz age. Fewer people were playing music on their pianos, having gravitated to phonographs or player pianos for personal entertainment. The publisher was stricken for a time, as described in this snippet from The Music Trade Review of February 17, 1923. "E. T. Paull, head of the E. T. Paull Music Co. and secretary of the Music Publishers' Association of the United States, has been absent from his office for over a period of six weeks owing to a severe attack of synovitus rheumatism. While Mr. Paull is slightly improved it is understood he will be unable to be at his office for some time to come." In spite of this temporary health setback, which kept him from releasing any of his own works in 1923, Paull did get back to work later in the year. Paull's own piano roll line seems to have faded by 1923. Some of his pieces were incorporated into a media concept similar to what Paull had introduced in 1923, this time favored by the QRS Piano Roll Company in their new line of story rolls. These piano rolls fit Paull pieces perfectly with narrative, and possibly some pictures, printed on the paper to describe what was being heard as it played. The QRS story rolls added a great deal of allure to the publisher who was known for his long descriptive narratives printed on the inside cover of many of his more ambitious works. The four hand arrangements had an added element of magnificent scope. He also did not need to worry so much about sales and distribution. Paull responded to the initial batch of four rolls in a letter to Lee S. Roberts of QRS, part of which is quoted here: I have, as you know, been active in the field of composition a great many years, during which time 1 have shared with my fellow composers that very natural feeling that some of my works, particularly those of a descriptive character, might not convey to the hearer the mental picture that was before me when composing them. These compositions were inspired by historical facts, and I conceived the idea of having stories of these facts printed with the musical score. I reasoned if the song writer enjoyed the privilege of telling his hearers what was in his mind, why not the importance to me.
Recently my attention was called to the Q.R.S. Story Rolls and in them I saw the fulfillment of a long cherished ambition which was to give the player owner my "brain children" in a complete form. I cannot tell you, Mr. Roberts, the sense of gratitude I feel towards your company because of the opportunity thus offered, not only to myself, but my many followers as well. This gratitude has been greatly increased since playing the trial rolls of Napoleon's Last Charge, Paul Revere's Ride, The Burning of Rome and the Battle of Gettysburg, all of which you so kindly sent me yesterday. I want you to know with what keen delight I am looking forward to my other numbers that you have consented to issue in Story Roll form. In spite of best intentions and a good idea, the story rolls did not fare very well for QRS, and were soon abandoned. Most customers, it seems, preferred lyrics instead, and once the story roll had been "told" the novelty was more or less gone. It is unclear if any further Paull titles were published by QRS in this format.
E.T. Paull's final months were spent publishing a few more pieces, including two of his own. His penultimate release, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, was heavily advertised as his finest and most dramatic descriptive march yet. "It is based upon the theme adapted from the Book of Revelation. The story evolves around the prophetic vision of St. John of the legendary four horsemen; the first riding a white horse, indicative of peace, prosperity and happiness; the second rider, with sword in hand, is mounted on a red horse, symbolizing the reign of war with ensuing bloodshed and murder; third, the rider on the black horse, signifying depression, sadness and sorrow; and, finally, the pale horse and rider symbolizing famine, terror, frenzy and death, generally known as 'Death on a White Horse.' It is extremely versatile in its nature, ranging from the soft and sweet melody, interpreting joy and happiness, to strong and powerful strains, visualizing war and its horrors." It was perhaps prophetic as well.The composer remained at his post right up until his death the day before Thanksgiving 1924, from what was initially described as a "stroke of apoplexy." His private funeral on Friday, November 28 was attended by many of his peers in the publishing business, after which Paull was laid to rest in Evergreen Cemetery (a.k.a. Cemetery of the Evergreens) in Brooklyn, New York. In spite of his former success as a publisher, his net estate amounted to only $28,156.62 in addition to the business. One additional march, Top of the World was published more than a year after his death, featuring the last of the colorful lithograph covers that became his legacy. More was promised, and indeed some advertisements pointed out that there were dozens of pieces in the catalog not yet published, but other than Top of the World they did not materialize as the Great Depression approached. His wife and daughter held on to the company with help from friends for a short time. In February 1925 it was announced that the Richmond Music Supply Corporation, run by Maurice Richmond, had purchased the entire catalog for $25,000. They also obtained the services of Miss Caroline Frank who worked with Paull for many years and was continuing to manage the business activities of the estate. It is important to note that this was the first company that took a chance on the young composer in 1893 when he presented them his first publications in Richmond, Virginia. Within a few years the Paull branch of the company was reorganized into the Paull-Pioneer Publishing Company. They managed to publish three folios of his marches that are nearly as collectible as the individual pieces themselves. Gertrude moved in with her daughter, granddaughter and son-in-law in Gastonia, North Carolina sometime in the late 1920s. They are shown there in the 1930 Census with Carl working as a manager for F.W. Woolworth. Gertrude died March 18, 1940 in Gastonia at age 75, and was buried next to her late husband in Brooklyn. The remainder of the family held on to whatever copyrights they had until the works slowly passed until the public domain. At this writing that includes all but his last three pieces published in 1924 and 1926. All of Paull's works are highly collectible today, particularly the ones with the Hoen covers. They are just as memorable for how much fun they are to perform as they are as pieces of early 20th century art. My sincerest thanks must go to leading E.T. Paull historian Wayland Bunnell who contributed a some of the information to this biography in his initial research on the publisher. Wayland owns one of the most complete E.T. Paull collections in existence, over 400 sheets, including those with alternate covers. You can contact him for more information and a catalog of music he has for sale at wtarrytown@aol.com. The remaining information was researched from public records, periodicals and sheet music by the author. This text represents a 5% excerpt from the upcoming large format book on E.T. Paull due out summer or autumn of 2010. | ||||||||||||||
William C. Polla was born to immigrant German parents William Polla and Babetta (Schill) Polla (Babetta was later Anglicized to Elizabeth) in New York City during the Centennial year of the United States. The family name was originally Polle as shown in the 1870 and 1880 Census records. William Jr. also had one sister a year younger than himself. William Sr. worked in a piano factory and possibly as a technician (he is shown as a piano maker in the 1870 Census and a piano workman in 1880), so William Jr. was definitely exposed to pianos at an early age. | ||||||
"Doctor" Phil Porter is not a widely known name outside of ragtime playing circles, but was long known to the people of Charlottesville, home of the University of Virginia where he presided for decades in the Chi Phi fraternity house. He did not work long as a professional musician, had many compositions but virtually nothing in print, yet he still provided one of those rare direct glimpses into the original ragtime era long after it had ended. Here is as much his story as we could collect from scant sources. Many references spell his name as Philip, but he signed as Phillip so that is the spelling of record.
Phillip Porter was born in Albemarle County, Virginia, to John Green Porter and Sarah Elizabeth (Lewis) Porter in 1888, the first of ultimately five children born to Lizzie. On draft records he claimed 1887, but birth and other records confirm the correct year. As Phillip was listed as a mulatto on some occasions, there is a slight possibility that his father was also mulatto or light-skinned. Lizzie was born in Virginia in January 1863, so was very possibly born a slave during the last year that status was legally accepted within the United States. At one point, Phillip listed his birth place as Hillsboro, Virginia, about 115 miles north of Charlottesville in rural Loudoun County. As his birth record indicates Albemarle County, and the births of his two brothers were not registered in Albemarle, he may have lived there as a toddler. As of the 1900 Census the family was living in Charlottesville, Virginia, having likely moved back there in the mid 1890s. John was last listed in the 1895 Charlottesville directory. In 1900 Lizzie was shown as widowed and working as a washer woman. She was also listed as a laundress in the 1898 through 1910 city directories, living at 318 12th Street for most of those years. In addition to Phillip she was supporting his younger brothers Horace H. (12/1891) and William (12/1892). The date or cause of death for John Porter is as of yet unknown. Growing up in Charlottesville Porter learned both piano and trombone. As implied in a later inteview in February 1953 edition of The Record Changer magazine, Phil evidently tried to make a go of it as a professional ragtime pianist, likely between 1904 and 1910. He claimed to have learned it largely from traveling minstrel shows (a group that might include vaudeville troupes and Chataqua performers) as they passed through central Virginia. Other than the University, Charlottesville was not as bustling a place as some other parts of the area, so there is some possibility that he ventured to either Richmond or Alexandria, Virginia, or even into the District of Columbia to play or listen to ragtime. Wherever he heard it, Phil managed to absorb the indigenous folk style of ragtime of the heartland. Working as a soloist or in bands, it sank in fairly well and stayed with him most of his life. Phil described his own early Cakewalk and Ragtime band as being comprised of trumpet, trombone, banjo, piano, drums and, unusual for that time, soprano saxophone. As he remembered, "We couldn't get a clarinet." Phil said that the clarinet played straight harmony to the trumpet's lead, occasionally taking breaks, and that the trombone was the "clown" of the band, playing long slides and breaks as well. When writer Bill Martin once played a recording of Heebie Jeebies by Louis Armstrong for Phil, he remarked that the trombone playing of Edward "Kid" Ory on that track was very much the way most ragtime band trombonists performed. Usually seated at the piano with his band, when they marched in parades he took to the trombone instead. He remembered his band's cakewalk performances of The Washington Post march and Under the Double Eagle in particular. While Phil was said to have been a prolific composer, virtually all of his original works likely survive in manuscripts and recordings, or are the stuff of memories by now. On one of his surviving recordings he plays his Cincinatti Rag which starts out with elements of Jay Roberts' The Entertainer's Rag and a clear nod to Scott Joplin's Maple Leaf Rag before it veers off into more original territory. There are elements of the trombone slide in his performance as well. Not having been to Cincinatti, Ohio, he chose the title because of the rhythmic accent of the syllables in the name. Phil also wrote a number of songs, one of which also survives on a recording, and claims to have written a ragtime opera about a visit of a group American Negroes to Africa, the land of their earliest heritage. Porter's style, as described in Martin's article in Record Changer, and as heard on the suriving recordings, was "a completely uncorrupted survival of what is probably a pre-Joplin approach to syncopated music. That is his manner and attack." Martin and Porter also both made the distinction between the "hot" approach that grew largely out of New Orleans [and Chicago], and the ragtime approach from the Midwest, which was much older and "always there." Porter himself described his style as a strong but regular left-hand beat, making the most of cross-rhythms through treble accents and rapid staccato, "the cakewalk way." "The ragtime players put in more left hand variation in the rhythm. We did it with the right hand when I learned, and I kept it that way." Indeed, his 1951 recording of W.C. Handy's Memphis Blues bears this out, with a lot of right hand rhythm and a fairly steady left hand beat. As per his 1953 interview, Porter's short-lived career as a professional pianist was pretty much over by 1910. He appears in the Census in Charlottesville at 21 still at home with his mother and siblings, but his status of single can be called into question. Curiously, Lizzie's last name is still Porter and she still shows up as widowed, but has two more children, daughters Mary Magdalene (7/1901) and Janie (1903). Initial research failed to turn up any birth, marriage or death certificate that would explain this. Phil was listed working as a janitor at the University of Virginia, the school founded by Thomas Jefferson. It was a job he would hold most of his life. In the 1916 Charlottesville directory, Lizzie appears as a domestic. Her last listing is in 1919 at the same address, with William, Horace and Mary still residing with their mother. Phil would be married to his lifetime partner Josephine (Jackson) Porter perhaps some time just before or after Census was taken. Their first child, Mary E., showed a birth date of September 20, 1909, which is part of the source of the confusion. As the Census was taken in April, and Phil later indicates that he was married at 20 and that Mary was 10 years old in January 1920, the time line is a little fuzzy on the progression of events. By the time the Charlottesville directory came out later in 1910, he was living at 944 Lee. On his 1917 draft record, Porter again lists himself as a janitor for UVA, living at 309 10th Street NW, less than a mile from the University. The 1916 city directory suggest that he was working for the UVA Chemical Lab at that time. The 1920 Census shows the Porter family living at the same address, indicating that he owned the home. Additions to the large family included Irene A. in 1913, Ruth P. in 1915, Phillip A. Porter Jr. in 1917, Charles H. in December 1919, William in 1921, Josephine, named for her mother, in 1925, and Ronald Lowell on July 3, 1932. The 1920 Census further whittled down his job as working specifically for a fraternty at the University. That fraternity was Chi Phi, which dated back to 1824 at Princeton University in New Jersey. When Phil was working for them as, per the 1953 interview, their "houseman," it was still an all white organization. Just the same, during his tenure caring for the fraternity house and propery, he was held in high regard by the students in residence. According to Martin, Porter was "careful to pick out certain members of the Chi Phi, whose piano playing he liked, and to train them in his style. Working in the afternoons, he carefully taught a dozen young men his tunes and his beat, and they and he [were] very happy with the results." Given that he worked for the fraternity for over 40 years, that statement alone indicates that there was a great deal of dedication and success that was of benefit to all parties. There is no record of Phil playing in public from the 1920s to 1940s, but it is likely he played at some University events as well as occasional social gatherings or special celebrations in Charlottesville. The 1930 Census indicates that the expanding family had moved to a larger home up the street at 341 10th Street NW, and he was a janitor for a club, which was likely Chi Phi.
Nearing his retirement in the early 1950s, Phil was offered the chance to make some recordings of his unique ragtime style. The dates are hard to pin down, and there were multiple occasions. The Martin article suggests 1949, but one of the Audiodisc dubs of three tracks specifically shows April, 1951. Judging by the recording quality, there is a slight chance they were recorded to acetates before being dubbed to the 33 1/3 RPM discs, but more likely were done on an early 1949 or 1950 model Ampex magnetic tape recorded. The 1949 date is vague, so 1951 is most likely correct. They were most likely done at WINA, one of the only two Charlottesville AM radio stations in operation at that time. The Martin article states that there were 12 cuts done. One can hear the comments of either engineers or bystanders in the studio at the beginning of the tracks, including one moment at the beginning of Memphis Blues where the presiding technician yells for everyone to be quiet, cueing Phil to start. Martin wrote: "The engineers who did the recording had never heard him before, but they were so delighted that they kept him overtime, cutting versions for their own collections. Perhaps some day these records can be issued; they make an important document. They are also might fine music." The sole known remaining disc as of 2009 was given to the Chi Phi fraternity in 2005 by alumni member Forman S. Johnston, and framed along with Martin's article, appropriately hung in the fraternity house. One unanswered question from the article was where the title "Doctor" came from, as it could have been applied during the ragtime era much as Professor often was, or perhaps bestowed upon him by Chi Phi in later years. There was another set of recordings done around the same time by Birch Smith, but on an old upright in a larger room, likely the Chi Phi fraternity house. This tape, provided to the author from Dick Mushlitz by way of Carl Sonny Leyland, includes 14 unique tracks and three retakes. At one point when the recordists were making sure he was happy with what he was laying down, Phil comments that he was just doing what they asked. "I don't follow this type of stuff. I don't have the time." He also apologizes somewhat for his singing, noting that it was not his strong point. These tracks are more likely representative of Phil in a relaxed environment letting loose with songs that were popular "back in the day." The biggest issue is the use of too much sustain pedal in a very live room, but otherwise his interpretations of pieces like The Washington Post and Under the Bamboo Tree are more potentially stylistically representative of the average working pianist during the ragtime era. One of the final bits of business in Martin's article noted that as 1953 Porter was retiring from his four decades of service with Chi Phi. His life beyond this is hard to trace. Phil Porter died in 1958 just three days short of his 70th birthday, and is buried in Oakwood Cemetery in Charlottesville along with some of his siblings. There are efforts underway to learn more about both Porter and his remaining recordings as of late 2009. He did, however, present a lovely theory of music for posterity: "They say that in heaven, there is perfect music. And everybody who plays down here tries to imitate what they are playing all the time up there. The best musicians and the best bands are the ones that come closest to playing the heavenly music." Porter was never a household name outside of Charlotte, but often the measure of such a person is the effect they had on all those that they touched during their lifetime with a smile or a joy. From what we know of Phil Porter, it may even be immeasurable. The author was privileged to be able to access the one known remaining recording and restore, as best as possible, the three tracks on that disc. They are in Windows Media Audio (WMA) format and should play on virtually any computer. These are full fidelity renditions of the wave files of the restored tracks, which were recorded in relatively low fidelity in an AM radio station using early 1950s technology on a single microphone. The tracks still provide an accurate glimpse into the sound of Phil Porter, who was obviously delighted to be able to leave them for posterity. All three are presented here for free as part of the agreement of the restoration. They are for personal listening only and encoded so that they can be played, but not included on any production CDs as doing so would be an infringement of the agreement with Chi Phi of UVA who was very generous in their loan of the material. More may be posted at a later date.
The Cincinnati Rag (Phil Porter)
The Memphis Blues (W.C. Handy) Eat, Drink and By Merry Today (Wilson)/Honey, You Don't Know My Mind (Phil Porter) Many thanks are in order for the information that made this biography possible. Early jazz enthusiast Linda (JazzGirl20s) of Northridge, California for bringing the Martin article into view. Robert Whaley of Charlottesville did the legwork to find the one known recording, and to make it accessible for restoration. Dr. James Soderquist of Chi Phi was generous in making the framed recording available to Whaley and the author for restoration, bestowing an amazing amount of much respected trust with this valuable piece of history. At least half of the information in this essay was quoted from or at least extracted from the 1953 Bill Martin article in The Record Changer which can be viewed at http://img3.imageshack.us/img3/6696/0001philporter.jpg. | |||||||||
Paul Pratt was part of the Indianapolis group of young composer friends who contributed just a few but still significant pieces into the ragtime collective. He was born in New Salem, Indiana to grocer and Kentucky Native James G. Pratt and his Indiana born Kate Pratt, | ||||||||||
Arthur Pryor, son of Samuel D. Pryor and Mary (Stone) Pryor, was literally born into music. He had an older brother, Walter (1867) a younger brother, Samuel (1879), and a younger sister, Sallie (1880). Samuel Pryor was the music director for most of the instrumental groups in St. Joseph in northwest Missouri, including the band and theater orchestra, and began teaching his son cornet at the age of four or five. The family is shown in St. Joseph in the 1880 Census with Samuel as a musician, and Mary's sister, a school teacher, lodging with them. Arthur soon migrated from cornet to alto horn at age six, performing "as a salaried member of his father's band" according to a 1931 article in the Music Trade Review. He moved from that to violin at age nine, and to the valve trombone (sibling to the slide trombone) by age 11 when he was being billed as the "Boy Wonder from Missouri" at the concerts of Samuel Pryor's band.
It was around this time that Arthur received a used slide trombone that was given to his father in payment of a debt. Slide trombones were considered a novelty, relegated to use in some symphonic groups, and therefore not commonly used in bands.
One of the problems with being a brilliant soloist on an instrument like the trombone is that little repertoire existed at that time featuring the instrument. So Pryor set out to change that by writing his own band arrangements with trombone lead. It was during this period that famed leader Patrick Gilmore (known as the "Father of the Concert Band") offered the well-reviewed Pryor a position, which was turned down in favor of a steadier position with a small opera company as musical director of the Stanley Opera House in Denver, Colorado. However, two years later he would not turn down a similar offer from march king of the time, John Philip Sousa, who was well-known even though his best pieces were still in front of him. After his audition it is reported that Sousa's lead trombonist, Frank Holton, was ready to resign in deference to Pryor's superior technique. Holton was convinced to stay on, but soon left to manufacture trombones that were later endorsed by Arthur Pryor. It was with Sousa's band that Pryor played at the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago, including some of his own compositions. He continued with Sousa for several years, adding both compositions and new techniques to his repertoire. Pryor is said to have popularized the use of the trombone glissando, a very well controlled refinement of the slide. He also participated in some of the early cylinder recordings of the Sousa band. There is one reported incident during a European tour in Leipzig where Pryor played a difficult solo so perfectly that members of the local orchestra disassembled his trombone at intermission to see how the trombone had been enhanced. Finding it to be very ordinary, they were left with nothing but awe for the maestro, who would soon be known at the "Paganini of the Trombone" after the famed 19th century violinist. His fame further spread in Europe through his early cakewalk and ragtime compositions as performed by the Sousa band. Arthur married his Utah born wife Maude in 1895, and the couple had a child, Arthur Pryor Junior, in 1896. The Pryor family was shown back in St. Joseph in the 1900 Census, staying at the home of his parents. Samuel is still listed as a musician, with Walter as a cornetist, Samuel Jr. as a drummer, and Arthur as a trombonist.By 1900, Pryor was nearly as famous as Sousa, and served often as an assistant conductor. Given his command of the new ragtime rhythms, he ended up conducting most of those types of numbers in concert and on record, a medium that Sousa saw necessary but did not want to participate in. Pryor had occasional clashes with Sousa, but they remained very respectful of their mutual talents at all times. While Sousa had left the Marine Corps band in part due to the lack of financial gain for his hard work with that organization, and continued on a commercial basis, Pryor decided to part with Sousa in 1903 to pursue a more artistic direction and feature his instrument more. His direction was more progressive than Sousa's, working to incorporate early jazz forms (before they had a name) rather than just continue with marches and cakewalks. The Pryor Band, fully outfitted with Conn instruments as an early example of product placement, debuted at the Majestic Theater in New York in early November 1903. Pryor had been a Conn spokesman since the late 1890s. After the launch his band started a tour of the US, spending a good chunk of time at the 1904 Lewis and Clark Exposition in St. Louis, continuing on for several years. He still remained friends with his rival, even filling in as a conductor for Sousa from time to time. Back in New York, Pryor was engaged to conduct an enormous congregation of around 1,000 pieces from 56 different bands for the opening of the new Dreamland amusement park on Coney Island that summer. The Pryor Band was legally incorporated in Albany, New York in mid-1906. As a composer, Pryor was fairly productive, turning out more dances than rags or cakewalks, yet still curiously billed as "The King of Rags" in one Victor record catalog. He was the studio director of the newly formed Victor Talking Machine Company for several years as well, as Victor tried to edge out cylinder companies like Columbia and Edison with popular products. This eventually turned into over 2500 sides during the next two and a half decades, considerably more than most any other band of that era. Pryor's Razzazza Mazzazza was a fairly popular number in concert and on record, but his most popular piece would soon turn out to be The Whistler and His Dog, in part because of the audience participation aspect since even though most could not play instruments with the band, they could certainly whistle.After 1909 he decided to stop touring and settle in Asbury Park, NJ, with his wife of 14 years and his two sons. During this time his band took more stable seasonal work at many local amusement venues, including the one at Asbury Park and also Willow Grove in nearby Philadelphia, composing during the winter. Many noted musical celebrities appeared with him during that time, including noted pianist Anton Rubinstein in late summer 1916. Pryor was also engaged to write special works. The first of these in 1910 was music for an adaption of the German written play There and Back>, titled Jinga-Boo, with lyrics by Alfred Bryant. Little was found on its actual production. The next was a new score for the half-century old stage play Uncle Tom's Cabin in 1912. This was followed by On the Eve of Her Wedding, about which even less is known. Pryor became one of the charter members of ASCAP in 1914. In the late teens his regular gigs got extended down to Miami, Florida as well, and he was engaged for a few years with the Capitol Theater in New York City. There Pryor was the first to present a composition by another future star, Swanee by George Gershwin. However, by 1920 he had to spend so much time planning concerts and recordings and conducting that he finally put his trombone down, at least in a professional capacity, as he still reportedly played it every day in private. This does not mean that Pryor totally gave up his association with the instrument. In 1921 he was endorsing Holton brass instruments now, which were manufactured by former band member Frank Holton in Wisconsin. (The author owns a Holton trumpet purchased by his grandfather in 1926, and can assure the reader it was among the very finest of instruments of that time.) Arthur spent the next decade making recordings and playing for radio until he retired from regular work. He was noted as playing the winter season in Miami in the 1920s, giving daily concerts with a variety of guest artists. Pryor maintained a home there, and in 1924 obtained a celebrated Steinway B for that home. Even though much of the time was spent in Asbury Park duing his 25 continuous seasonsthere Arthur and Maude are shown living in Manhattan for the 1930 Census, where he is listed as a musician and broadcaster. Pryor ostensibly retired from the demands of steady musical work in 1933 at the age of 63. As progressive as his point of view had been three decades earlier, he now considered jazz to be a "musical parasite" that was lowering the tastes of the American public. Performing only occasionally over the next few years, it was after a rehearsal for a 1942 wartime radio program that he collapsed from a stroke and died soon after at home. Arthur Jr. stepped into his fathers shoes for a time, including the day of his death, to keep his memory alive for a few more years. While most of Pryor's works were for early dance bands or marches, he still left a significant legacy of compositions and recordings in the ragtime idiom that demonstrate his command of the genre, as well as his role in popularizing it among more conservative white audiences. His sheer volume of recorded work gives us one of the better glimpses into the popular music of the late 1890s through 1910, when other artists like Al Jolson and Sophie Tucker started making popular recordings. Even his piano compositions incorporate many characteristics of his trombone playing into some very clever pianistic elements. Some of the best examples of Pryor's work in modern recordings can be found through the considerable efforts of Rick Benjamin and his Paragon Ragtime Orchestra. I encourage you to seek out his recordings and further information bands of the era at www.paragonragtime.com | |||||||
The birth date for Charles "Luckey" Roberts varies depending on source, including Roberts himself. While August 7 is mostly consistent (August 2 has been seen, but perhaps misread), his WW1 Draft Card shows 1889, while his WWII Registration shows 1891, and some sources cite 1892. One passenger manifest shows 1894. A number of biographical sources show birth years as far back as 1887 and as late as 1895, a pretty wide variance. Either he was also not sure, or just changed the age to suit the situation. That he also seems to have sometimes evaded Federal Census takers is another frustrating enigma, perhaps having used a different name, as deep searches have not found anything definitive. This was sometimes the case with traveling entertainers, as they were often not at home during the period when Census takers tried to account for them. Robert's birth place of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, is consistent in any case.
A small guy with a big heart and even bigger hands. That was Luckey Roberts. He was born to William L. Roberts, a self-trained veterinarian, and Elizabeth Roberts, who tragically died just three weeks after her son's birth. His father, unable to handle the sudden burden, placed Charles with a Quaker show business family that he knew, the Ringolds, who were involved with vaudeville. His first stage appearances were with a troupe performing Uncle Tom's Cabin in which he simply slept onstage as a toddler. Later, his diminutive size helped to shape his original profession at the age of five, a tumbler on the vaudeville stage. This included a season with Gus Selke and his Pickaninnies, followed by a long stint with Mayme Remington and her Ethiopian Prodigies. With this troupe he learned acrobatic stunts from the team of Prevost, Rice & Prevost, which helped with his tumbling abilities, but also may have stunted his growth [this is unverified, but remains a possibility based on similar cases in history].Charles' father was still involved in his life and visited often when he was close enough to do so. During his time with Mayme it appears that Roberts discovered and took to the piano right away, and his father helped encourage this by getting professional lessons for his young son. Fairly soon he became an all around showman. Charles never made it beyond 4'10", but his hands could reportedly reach something just short of two octaves, one octave and a fifth at the very least. He also had a very strong physique, perhaps over-proportionate to his size. Having been born a Pennsylvania Quaker, he abstained from alcohol throughout his life, a rather amazing feat when you consider where he played and that he owned a popular bar in his adopted Harlem home. In 1911, having established himself firmly playing up through Atlantic City and now Manhattan, Luckey got a job as a musical director with producers Homer Tutt and Salem Tutt Whitney in their Southern Smart Set Company, an off-Broadway troupe. It was here that he met Lena Sanford, a professionally trained operatic singer, who he would eventually be married to for over 40 years. Lena appears on his 1917 draft record as his contact. Roberts would ultimately remain as musical director of the Smart Set until 1919 in addition to his other work. Charles was the first of the Harlem school of pianist/composers to get published as well. He met composer/arranger Artie Matthews in Cincinnati, Ohio [or possibly St. Louis, Missouri] around 1912, and Matthews arranged Luckey's Junk Man Rag for publication. Matthews' arrangement was toned down from Roberts' dynamic performance style, and played at a moderate tempo it resembled a Scott Joplin-styled rag. Ultimately, it was a looser arrangement of the same piece by Will Tyers that saw wide distribution, and that work led to publication of other great compositions like Music Box Rag and the dynamic Pork and Beans. Many of the pieces Luckey allegedly composed during the 1910s did not appear in print, but were recorded in the 1940s and 1950s. Some were simply too complex to notate given their range and subtleties. Just the same, he was the earliest of the Harlem stride pianists to record as well, cutting a number of sides in 1916 for both Victor and Columbia Records, which were ultimately unissued for varying reasons. According to a Columbia memo, the pieces were "unsuitable to artist," which more likely had to the with the difficulty of recording piano played in this style with acoustic horns than it did with the artist playing his own compositions. Also in the mid teens, Roberts became an inspiration and sort of a mentor to a young boy who wanted to learn jazz, even before it had a name, and closely studied the master's playing. There would be a time in the near future that the boy would pick up many of those moves and make a name for himself as George Gershwin. Some of Gershwin's performance attributes and tricks were originally learned from Roberts, and then applied in new ways.Ultimately, Luckey Roberts ended up as a life-long performer. He befriended most of the best pianists that frequented New York, including life-long friends Eubie Blake and Willie "The Lion" Smith plus many charter members of James Reese Europe's Clef Club. With that organization Luckey was an occasional performer for the famous dancing team of Vernon and Irene Castle. He was part of Europe's famed 369th Infantry "Hellfighters" platoon and band during World War One, who collectively took France by storm both in a military and musical capacity. Many members of that unit found they preferred life France as they found little racial bias there, and a great deal of enthusiasm and respect for their music. While some either stayed behind or returned within a couple of years, Luckey went back to the United States in 1919 to resume his music career. Once back Roberts started out with a small band consisting of himself, a mandolinist, saxophonist and drummer. He quickly worked his way up to his own society orchestra that became quite the rage. They regularly played parties for the elite 400 (the most influential 400 families) in New York, Rhode Island, and Palm Beach in Florida, the latter about which he penned one of his early stride pieces. His orchestra work kept him well occupied throughout the 1920s and 1930s. Luckey als worked as a Broadway composer from time to time. In 1920 Roberts and his frequent collaborator Alex Rogers formed their own publishing company, Rogers & Roberts at 386 Cumberland Street in Brooklyn, releasing songs from their recent but short-lived musical comedy Baby Blues. One of the pieces was dedicated to popular stage singer Nora Bayes who may have performed it as well. Rogers and Roberts also contributed most of the songs to the Broadway musical Go Go which ran for a fair 138 performances both in Manhattan and in Harlem, though it was not a huge success. Go Go was described in the trade papers as a sort of white Shuffle Along, referring to the Sissle and Blake musical that had been a big hit. They followed this that same year with Sharlee which ran only one month. This show was followed by a 1924 vaudeville tour of Luckey Roberts and His 12 Browns, "a whirlwind array of the the speediest entertainers in vaudeville." Another attempt at Broadway was made by Roberts and Rogers and a producer in 1926 with My Magnolia, a "colored musical" which only made it through four performances at the Mansfield Theater in front of fickle New Yorkers. Lena was listed in the cast of the production. It would not be Robert's last attempt at musical stage pieces, however. During the early to mid 1920s Luckey had also appeared sporadically on the radio, with some live spots on the popular music station WDT in Manhattan. This would be followed by some stints on deluxe cruise ships to Europe and back. Along with his friend and fellow musician James P. Johnson, Roberts was one of the early progenitors of what became known as Harlem stride piano. The reach of his hands certainly helped enable this, but given his size it also help to perpetuate a rumor for many years (unfounded and unlikely) that he had the webbing of his hands surgically altered to enable that reach. Fats Waller, Eubie Blake and Johnson who all had similar reaches should help disprove this story. His prowess with stride piano was centered more in his playing than in composing, like his counterparts. Many of his contemporaries marveled not only at his reach but his great strength and control over subtleties as well. He could break down a piano in short order with his hard an percussive style, but if he liked the tone of a particular instrument he could caress wonderful tunes out of it as well. Among other admirers and proteges were Duke Ellington, "Fatha" Earl Hines and singer Ethel Waters. Another was a true member of royalty that he had met while entertaining the "400" years before. As published widely in newspapers in late June 1937, "Luckey Roberts, famous purveyor of music to the '400', received a cablegram from the Duke of Windsor last week. Mr. Roberts, who knew the Duke well, when he was Prince of Wales and was invariably selected to play for the parties where the Prince was entertained during his last visit to America, had cabled congratulations to the Duke and Duchess on the occasion of their wedding. The Duke cabled his appreciation of Mr. Robert's message. Luckey announced that he was sending the Duke and Duchess a group of phonograph records, one for each month of the year." This was actually a fairly generous gift at that time, but whether they were Roberts' own recordings is unclear. Another typical but very notable example of Luckey's pull and his reputation was reported on virtually the same day as the story on the Duke of Windsor: "Luckey Roberts and his band, society entertainers, have been selected by Mrs. J. A. Montgomery, aunt of Miss Ethel Du Pont, fiancee of Franklin D. Roosevelt Jr. [the current president's son], to play at one of the most important of the pre-nuptial parties to be given in honor of the young couple. The event, to be held in Wilmington, Delaware, Monday evening, is to be an exclusive affair with only 60 guests from all over the country in attendance. It is reported that Eddie Duchin, Vincent Lopez and a number of other society orchestras angled for the assignment, but that Mrs. Montgomerv made the selection of Roberts' band at the suggestion of Miss Du Pont and Mr Roosevelt." This was a high honor for any performing group. Roberts joined ASCAP in 1939, the year of its Silver Jubilee. The veteran entertainer gained new notoriety in the 1940s with his Harlem night spot, Luckey's Rendezvous at 773 St. Nicholas Avenue, which featured him and his friends, and always had good entertainment.
During his time in Harlem Roberts survived muggings and robberies in his restaurant, a series of small strokes, and two major car accidents, one of which shattered his talented hands. But he fully recovered, and only partially retired after closing the Rendevous in 1954. His friends noted that Roberts was simply too generous in handing out drinks to his friends, and wasn't able to meet expenses in the end, but this runs counter to the truth of his fairly solid financial standing. In 1958 Roberts made a fabulous stereophonic recording for the Good Time Jazz label. This session, along with a set of sides recorded for Circle Records in the mid 1940s, are among the best surviving echoes of the era of Ragtime and Stride piano. Roberts was also present with his friend Willie "The Lion" Smith for the August 1958 photo by Art Kane, "A Great Day In Harlem," published in Esquire magazine, although Smith was tired of standing and hiding from the heat when the official photo was finally taken. Luckey was the oldest musician in the photograph. The photo itself was used as a basis for the film The Terminal, in which a foreign visitor came to the United States to collect the final autograph of all those in the photograph, which would assumably have alread included Roberts. In spite of his age, Luckey refused to fully retire, even though there were reports of poor health that kept him from performing in public as early as 1960. He even attempted two last musicals, Emalina and Old Golden Brown, the latter a sort of musical autobiography. Even after a decade of tweaking of the music and the plot lines, neither were ultimately produced. However, one of his final tunes, Exclusively with You, has had some performances since. When Roberts died while staying at the Mayflower Nursing Home in 1968, he was in very good financial shape, having made over two million dollars in astute real estate deals over the decades, and running his music and nightclub businesses very effectively. | |||||||||||||||
Jay Roberts was born in Oakland, California near the Barbary Coast of San Francisco, to Iowa native Jesse S. Roberts and Arkansas wife Ada P. (Reynolds) Roberts, who had been married on October 13th, 1887. He was one of three children born to the couple, one of which died before 1900, and his younger sister Memory Hope who was born around 1906. Jesse was a postal clerk and manager, and had helped to start up one of the first mail routes in Alaska, along with early dog sled delivery service between 1903 and 1906. It is unclear whether his family went with him to the northern frontier during that time. | ||||||
Clarence H. St. John did not leave very many clues behind about his life, so frustratingly little can be found on this musician who turned out very few, yet very notable gems during the ragtime era. The following is the best information to date that our research has shown to be likely accurate. He was born in Michigan to Luther and Betsy (Hoard) St. John. The 1900 census shows him living in Oronoko near present day Berrien Springs in the southwest corner of the state, with his profession listed as a musician. That notion may have lasted for close to a decade, during which three of his six known pieces were released by St. Louis-based publisher John Stark. Thanks to Joanne O'Clair, who through happenstance obtained a box with some of St. John's effects, helping to fill in some gaps in this previously unknown story. More information will be coming soon as of August 2011. Stay tuned. The Stark quote was from one of his many advertisments found on sheet music and in papers, and was provided through the courtesy of Trebor Tichenor, found in the folio of Stark Publications titled Gems of St. Louis Ragtime. |
Another mystery composer, Archie W. Scheu did not work throughout his life as professional musician or writer. He was just man with a plan, but enjoyed a moderately successful career in many aspects of the music business pursuing his calling in helping others, eventually applying that to their planning for the future. Born to Henry and Lenora Scheu in Dover, Ohio in 1880, he was the youngest of three siblings, including brother Walter H. Scheu (1876) and sister Maudia Scheu (1878). On the Census taken when he was five days old, his temporary name was Teldiss. Since it appears likely that his father was of the Jewish faith, it could also have been his Yiddish name, with the legal name of Archie given out at or after his bris. It could also have been taken at a time when the parents were still undecided. But Archie it was (Archibald has been seen as a reference, but cannot be confirmed). Nothing was found on his years growing up in the small town of Dover, Ohio, but in the 1900 Census he is listed as an electrician, a fairly new and interesting career path at that time. He was still living with his brother and recently widowed mother in Dover. |
Jean Schwartz is a great example of a dedicated composer who rose from truly humble beginnings to a position as a fledging writer of ragtime songs, becoming one of the dominant sources of Broadway shows as the genre was gaining recognition throughout the world. The sheer number of pieces he left behind, some of them very memorable standards, plus the roster of musicians and lyricists he worked with speaks volumes about his role in American popular music in the 20th century.
Early Years
Schwartz was born in Budapest, Hungary to Samuel and Celia Schwartz. He was the youngest of three children, including Max (4/1874) and Rosa (8/1876).
When she was young, Rosa took piano instruction briefly from no less than Franz Liszt, therefore becoming the dominant musician in the family at that time, and a professional pianist. From the 1880s to the 1930s, Budapest was a thriving community for members of the Jewish faith, and one of the economic forces in Eastern Europe. Just the same, they were keenly aware of the issues facing their peers in Russia and other locales, and knew that many were migrating to America where more freedoms and better opportunities were supposed to be waiting for them. So like many other Jewish families of the time looking to improve their situation.The Schwartz family arrived in the United States on August 29, 1888, quickly settling in New York City. Unfortunately for them things were not much improved, and they lived in poverty in the general area of the slums of the lower East Side of Manhattan. Rosa worked in the 1890s and beyond as a piano instructor, and Max worked as a waiter and other odd jobs whenever he could. By 1900 Samuel was shown as retired, but it is not certain from what vocation. One of Rosa's star students was her brother Jean starting when he was very young, and the boy quickly became adept with not only playing, but with theory and harmony as well. Eventually Jean had to pitch in and help support the family. Among his early odd jobs was one as a cashier in a Turkish bath house. But with his musical skills he soon became involved in the New York music scene, working part time as a pianist in a small orchestra in Coney Island. The next important position was as a sheet music demonstrator in the Siegel-Cooper Department store, the first major store in the United States to have its own sheet music department. The management of the Princess Theater on Broadway was in desperate need for a young man to play the piano in a music store scene of the Weber and Fields comedy Hoity Toity. Even though there was no overt visibility to the part, designed only for atmosphere, Schwartz was asked to do the role and did it with such finesse and gusto that he could not be ignore. From there he got hired as a song plugger for Maurice Shapiro and Lou Bernstein's new publishing company, which would soon be joined by fledging writer and publisher Harry Von Tilzer. That was the launching point for Jean to try his hand at composing, starting in the relatively new genre of ragtime. Jean's first published composition was a cakewalk titled Dusky Dudes, issued by Shapiro, Bernstein & Von Tilzer in 1899. The cover showed a dedication to composer Kerry Mills, who was already become well known for his benchmark At a Georgia Campmeeting, and would garner a few more hits over the next decade. The publishers also saw fit to increase the potential of this piece by releasing it as a song as well. One more piece from that year was the Raggy Raggers, showing promise and potential, but lacking polish. One march was published in 1900, Across the Continent, but marches were common and ragtime was still fresh, so for Jean to graduate from song-plugger to song-writer, he needed something more. In 1900 he was listed in the Census as James, still living with his parents and siblings, and working in a music store (either the store at Shapiro, Bernstein and Von Tilzer or Siegel-Cooper). Quick Rise to Fame
Schwartz's inherent talents were recognized quite early on in his career by those in the business. The following surprisingly accurate prediction appeared in the March 9, 1901 edition of the trade paper The Music Trade Review: COMING TO THE FRONT
Jean Schwartz, one of the clever young men employed by Shapiro, Bernstein & Von Tilzer, is rapidly coming to the front. His compositions are few but they have all been good. The first two, "Dusky Dudes" cakewalk and "Across The Continent" two-step, have become successes, and although the "San Anita" waltzes have only been out a few weeks, the orders have already begun to come in. Mr. Schwartz will doubtless make a name for himself in the future; he is a man to be watched. The genesis of Schwartz as a true songwriter happened shortly after this notice was written in 1901 He was befriended by William Jerome, already established as a New York lyricist and the librettist for Star and Garter, another show Jean had played for. One night after the curtain fell they just fooled around on the piano a bit to see what would happen, and they come up with the improvised song Mr. Shakespeare Comes to Town (or I Don't Like Them Minstrel Folks). Feeling it was good enough to publish, the pair submitted the tune and it quickly became a hit, interpolated into The King's Carnival. It was later included to great success in a revival of Hoity Toity. This singular piece was originally published under the pseudonym of Eugene Black, although the reason for this is not clear. Many Jewish writers had Anglicized their names in America, and perhaps this was an unnecessary attempt to do the same. In any case, all future publications had Jean's proper name attached. Almost immediately the new friends set to work and didn't stop for over a decade. Both of them performed on and off in vaudeville early on, and soon started writing together. The team of Jerome and Schwartz set out to make waves in the songwriting world, and a comfortable living doing something they loved as well.
Jerome was married at that time to stage star Maude Nugent, and this connection didn't hurt when pushing Jerome/Schwartz songs for shows. One notable 1902 show was Fred Stone's stage adaptation of the recent book, The Wizard of Oz, for which the pair wrote Mister Dooley for the wizard himself to sing. It was recycled in 1903 in the show Chinese Honeymoon.
Jerome and Schwartz included several numbers in the less successful Mrs. Delaney of Newport before making the move to writing their own complete show in 1904. This was Piff! Paff! Pouf!!! starring popular vaudeville comedian Eddie Foy, an eclectic and unique work that played for 264 performances, impressive for a first effort. It included one gem called The Radium Dance, perhaps capitalizing on the headlines including Marie Curie and her findings in the world of radioactivity. The dance that went with this instrumental featured women in glowing radium outfits that actually were a bit radioactive. But who knew back then? A retooled version of the show late that year ran only 8 nights before closing. When on a trip to Europe that summer Schwartz checked in on how his music, and American music in general, was doing in Paris. In September he reported on his trip to Music Trade Review: ...All of his time was passed between London and Paris, where he declares American songs "have the call," as he expressed it to The Review. "In London," he said, "the sheet music is certainly American, and our songs are whistled and sung in all the principal music halls and theatres. The same is partly true of Paris and in the cafe chantants our hits appear on all their programmes. We thought of taking "Piff, Paff, Pouff" off at the Casino in November, but it is running to too good business and it will therefore remain indefinitely. I propose interpolating some new numbers, but as they are not written yet cannot give you the titles. The play will be taken to London next season, and will be produced by the original company, in one of the three theatres offered me when I was over there. To-day I signed a contract to write a new musical comedy, what I do not even know, as I haven't been able to find my side partner, Billy Jerome, since returning."
Around the beginning or 1905 Jerome H. Remick, who had been a partner in Shapiro and Bernstein and Remick, separated from the firm to form his own from other companies he had acquired. Remick not only brought along many of the physical assets, inventory and copyrights, but some of the composers as well. Billy and Jean worked with Remick for at least the next year until troubles intervened. However, in 1905 they also started dabbling in publishing themselves, in addition to still performing as headliners in vaudeville and writing popular songs put into print by Remick. The duo contributed to at least four musicals that year, came out with three of their own, and made major contributions to two others including pieces by fellow composers. A Yankee Circus on Mars lasted for 296 performances while yielding no real hits. Lifting the Lid only managed 72 performances. The Ham Tree did only marginally better at 90 nights. The comedy Fritz in Tammany Hall lasted a mere 43 performances with no memorable entries. The same was true for The White Cat at 46 appearances. Yet they did score again with Blanche Ring in Sergeant Brue singing My Irish Molly O.
The drop off of output in 1906 can be partially attributed to an increased presence of the team in vaudeville with Jerome taking on most of the singing and dancing duties, and Schwartz the flashy accompanist providing harmony as well. Their act is representative of many on the vaudeville stage at that time, being an alternative to the Broadway theater, since some vaudeville houses ran for 24 hours a day with no set format other than continuing stage acts. Acts of the type that Schwartz and Jerome did may be viewed on a few surviving Vitaphone shorts from the late 1920s, but the flavor of what they were was captured to some degree in the opening minutes of the movie Singing In the Rain with Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor showing their rise through ranks in front of the footlights. With an output of only a handful of songs, the duo was likely pretty busy that year in their revue Words and Music.Schwartz and Jerome made major contributions in 1907 to a German-themed musical comedy, Lola from Berlin. One of their non-stage pieces, Emmaline, had a nice shelf life and became somewhat popular. But 1907 brought troubles as well. Having abandoned the firm of Jerome H. Remick for Francis, Day & Hunter, Jerome and Schwartz sued Remick, who they had severed a relationship with in the spring of 1906. The asked that the publisher be enjoined from continuing to sell any of their material until they received at least $25,000 in royalty payments that they insisted were due to them under their agreement with the previous owners. The court ended up finding for the defendant based on the transfer of copyrights and protections afforded to them, so the composers simply moved forward to rebuild their song base and financial base. They were again working for Shapiro and Bernstein's newly revived firm, but also had works issued by Cohan & Harris. They would be reunited with Remick the following spring, this time severing their relationship with Francis, Day & Hunter in March 1908. Jean finally reached the status of ragtime composer in 1908 with The White Wash Man, a technically interesting and worthy rag to which Jerome added lyrics for a song version as well. They were starting to become important as publishers, but distributed their works to other New York houses as well. No notable contributions to Broadway shows were made that year, but one piece, When the Girl You Love Is Loving You, made it to the newly minted Ziegfeld Follies, their first of many contributions to that yearly spectacular production. The era of ragtime instrumentals was nearing its peak from 1909 to 1912, and Schwartz made his own mark on the genre. That Spooney Dance was also released as a song, That Cooney Spooney Dance in 1909, and in 1910 he would come out with the intricate Black Beauty, his eclectic The Pop-Corn Man, and the dynamic Franco American Rag. With Jerome he wrote and staged In Hayti in 1909. It ran for only 56 performances, but it helped raise the bar for the pair in their goals for writing shows around tighter themes rather than just revues of interpolated pieces. Their next success in 1910 was Up and Down Broadway, making it to 72 performances in its first run. With so many shows now opening weekly in the theater district, this was not all that bad in perspective. This was followed up with one of their first mega-hits, Chinatown, My Chinatown, which would eventually become a jazz standard. The 1910 Census lists Jean as a music composer living in Manhattan, but with no employer listed. Late in the year he went on a twenty week tour with singer and lyricist Harry Williams, frequent partner of Egbert Van Alstyne.
New Partners and New Challenges
Identical twins, Roszika and Jansci (or Yansci) Deutsch were also from Budapest, born October 25 1892. Their family came over to Brooklyn in 1897. They trained in ballet for a time and learned stage etiquette. With their names anglicized to Rosie and Jennie, they adopted the last name of Dolly allegedly because of a friend who said they were as cute as dolls. Managed by their uncle, the Dolly Sisters made their stage debut in 1907 but were quickly banned from New York due to their age. The sisters worked outside of the city on the Orpheum circuit for two years, then in New York City for the Keith theaters, working their way quickly up to the Ziegfeld Follies in 1911 where they would enjoy a few years of success.
Florenz Ziegfeld, in his continuing quest to glorify the beautiful girls, chose to give the Dolly Sisters an Asian mystique by dressing them in elaborate pagoda headdresses and a kimono with a shared skirt, thus casting them as Siamese twins. They would use this as part of their act for most of their career. Among their admirers was the gambler "Diamond Jim" Brady who lavished them with gifts, including a Rolls Royce. Another one was their accompanist, Jean Schwartz. Working in that role as well as with Jerome through 1912 Schwartz turned out a few more minor hits, including Rum Tum Tiddle. He also began a long-time collaboration with lyricists Grant Clarke and Harold Atteridge, composing with both of them that year. While touring with Clarke in the Berkshires in July, trying to derive some inspiration for new material, Schwartz's automobile struck and slightly injured a woman and her child. He had to pawn a large diamond ring to raise bail, and the pair quickly retreated back to New York City, having been duly inspired as well as shaken.Having also worked as a sometimes accompanist and writer, and an increasingly frequent companion to the Dolly sisters, Jean finally married fellow Hungarian export Roszika Dolly in 1913. He would continue to accompany the sisters on stage as his writing relationship with Billy Jerome started to wind down. Jansci would marry stage comedian Harry Fox the following year. These two unions would eventually impact Schwartz in years to come in a way that he could not anticipate. Jerome and Schwartz more or less stopped performing as a duo in 1913, but continued to issue songs. Since it was announced in the trades late in 1911 that they had stopped writing as a team, some of the issues of 1912 and 1913 were perhaps older tunes, or the simply got together from time to time for a new one. However, Schwartz had his next major collaboration with Atteridge when they wrote the musical comedy The Honeymoon Express for the Winter Garden Theater. Starring his friend Al Jolson, the show ran for 156 performances and had some minor hits in New York, plus one bit of product placement via the song My Coca-Cola Belle. My Raggyadore was perhaps the most clever piece in the show, a play on the Toreador Song from Bizet's Carmen. With contributions from Albert Brown, Atteridge and Schwartz assembled The Passing Show of 1913, the first of many for them. This politically themed show was expanded during its run of 58 performances, and many pieces were published from the show that may or may not have been included on stage for more than a few nights. After that, 1914 through 1916 were relatively slow years for Schwartz. He became one of the original twelve charter members of ASCAP formed in 1914. Then with Clarke he turned out Back to the Carolina You Love to good sales, and made a splash with Jerome with In Blinky, Winky, Chinky Chinatown [Please note that ethnic stereotypes of this sort, while unacceptable in the 21st century, were common back then. To ignore them or sweep them under the rug is to pretend they never happened, and we need to remember how far we've come. No malice was meant by the composers, who were only catering to a public that often fed on such stereotypes, good or bad.] Yet another interesting tune was a tribute to the finest recording Irish tenor of that time, John McCormack, who had his own fine career singing Irish-themed songs. In his continuing work with his wife and sister-in-law, Schwartz was not committing any effort to stage shows except for the occasional commissioned song for interpolation, so 1916 was somewhat of a dry year for the composer. Jerome and Schwartz abandoned their business in 1916, after which Jean signed a two-year exclusive contract with Waterson, Berlin & Snyder in September. He would provide them with a number of fine hits over the next few years. Another bit of notoriety and small fortune fell upon Jean the following year. Upon his death in 1917, Diamond Jim Brady left many of his friends, including Jean and both of the Dolly sisters, one or more of his treasured items. As mentioned in Brady's will, Jean got a "sporting scarfpin."
With the advent of The Great War (World War One) and America's inclusion in 1917, entertainers and songwriters played an increased role in providing musical morale for both the troops and those left behind. Schwartz and Clarke brought out America Needs You Like a Mother: Would You Turn Your Mother Down?, which was quickly adapted in an alternate lyric for Britannia as well. Teaming with E. Ray Goetz, Jean worked a couple of pieces into the play Words and Music. This may have whet his appetite to get back to composing musicals because he would come back in a big way in 1918. His draft card shows him as a music composer employed by Waterson, Berlin & Snyder, as his own firm with Jerome was by now dissolved. It also lists his wife as Rosia Schwartz, but the couple had no children indicated there, confirming that none came from their marriage.In 1918 Schwartz, along with Joe Young and Sam M. Lewis, would contribute three songs to the contrived show Sinbad starring mega-entertainer Al Jolson. This was a pivotal time for Jolson and for those who gave him good material. It was Jolson who helped make George Gershwin a star in his own right with the song Swanee around this same time. The same would happen with two of the three pieces. Hello Central, Give Me No-Man's Land was a war tune about a child trying to connect with their father fighting somewhere in the trenches of Verdun, France, which was named no-man's land. The second, a piece that would become one of the top five signatures for Jolson, was Rock-A-Bye Your Baby With a Dixie Melody. What could have been a simple maudlin ballad was turned into a passionate tribute to the south in Jolson's dynamic stage performances and a subsequent recording of the piece, which was revived by him in the 1940s, and again in the early 1960s by singer Judy Garland. It would be the biggest hit ever from the pen of Schwartz, but he was just getting started again on Broadway so there was much more to come. Schwartz, Atteridge and composer Sigmund Romberg would collaborate for The Passing Show of 1918, featuring two of the latest fads in entertainment - jazz and the shimmy. This salacious dance that offended those who cared to see something evil in the motion was largely an upper torso shake, best achieved by women wearing fringe or tassels to accentuate the effect. This was not lost on Schwartz and his lyricists who turned out several shimmy songs over the next three years. At 14 performances during war time the revue could hardly be deemed a success. The shimmy would emerge in the next production, a return for Jean to stage musicals, See You Later. Many of the songs in these two shows were throwaways, but most made it into print for sale in the lobby as well as in the stores. The trio would hit their stride the following year with Monte Cristo, Jr., which survived for a run of 254 shows. The hit of this post-war pre-prohibition show actually comically opined about the upcoming Federal ban on alcohol. Sahara, which compared the dryness of the Egyptian desert with the reality of what was coming in the United States, was a good seller and recorded by many artists, including the prolific Billy Murray in his inimitable comic style. This song, unlike most of the rest of the show, was composed with Alfred Bryan. So Schwartz and Bryan followed this effort with The Shubert Gaieties of 1919 which ran for nearly 3 months.They teamed up again for a stage musical, Hello Alexander, capitalizing on the popularity of the many "Alexander and his ____ band" songs that were spawned by Irving Berlin's Alexander's Ragtime Band of 1911, and based in part on the Schwartz/Jerome show The Ham Tree. It included the popular themes of baseball and Egyptology, although focused largely in the south, with Dixie eternally being a favorite topic of Broadway in the 1910s. There was a shimmy piece slipped in for good measure as well. Starring McIntyre and Heath, the déjà-vu of the recycled plot was not lost on the Broadway critics who revealed the thinly veiled repurposing of the older show in their reviews. The production ultimately ran for only 56 performances. Post War Successes and Struggles
The Passing Show of 1919, composed with Atteridge, combined the shimmy with Egyptology in one piece, and Italy with jazz in another. The short term hit of the show was It's Always Summertime in the Winter Garden, referring to the theater in which the Passing Shows were staged. This particular edition had lasting power, ultimately running for 280 performances.
Schwartz seems to have been missed in the 1920 Census in spite of diligent efforts to locate him there. Perhaps he was sleeping in his office during this exceedingly busy period. There is also a chance he was in Paris with his wife during that first month of 1920, although evidence to support this is hard to find, even though there is clear evidence that she was most certainly there. The new decade saw Schwartz gearing up for another busy few years with an almost relentless output of material in a city overflowing with theatrical shows and revues . It started out with The Century Revue hosted by the Shuberts, composed largely by Schwartz and Bryan. To compound things, they also wrote the late night show in the same theater, The Midnight Rounders of 1920. The earlier show ran 150 performances from July through January, and the late night 120 through November. Neither had any standout numbers, but both were well received. Then with Blanche Merrill, a prodigious entertainer and songwriter in her own right, he came up with Page Mister Cupid, a cute romantic comedy, but not the usual caliber of Jean's work. It played off-Broadway for a very short run, but never made it any further. However, as usual, another project was in the works. The Passing Show of 1921, which included contributions by Atteridge and Bryan, did fairly well, running around six months at 191 performances. He followed this with another round of Midnight Rounders for 1921 with Bryan which was mostly light fare, and made it through a mere 49 appearances. One other show, The Mimic World, also did not fare well with the critics in spite of its star, an evolving Mae West who was still seeking out her persona. Critics found it to be a disappointing hodgepodge of material, and some even singled out Schwartz as capable of better material. The show evaporated after only a few appearances. But somebody else in his life was making a disappearance. In April 1921, a few months after the fact, the trades announced that Jerome had once again partnered with Schwartz and that the pair were "now submitting works to various publishers." The reunion was short-lived, and apparently yielded only two songs that were picked up for distribution, the last they would write together for six years.Even in the early days of Broadway, show business marriages could be tenuous due to the strain of constantly having to be "on," whether on stage or producing new material. In 1920 the Dolly Sisters wanted to follow the crowds to post-war Europe where many American performers had migrated. It seems that their marriages held them back. So Jennie first divorced Harry Fox, then the following year Rosie left Jean. They went on to London, then to Paris where they found renewed fame as the almost Siamese twins. They also became well known for scandalous affairs and gambling habits, including one trick where they gave all their jewelry to a friend for safekeeping and then sat at the gambling tables pretending they had lost every last dime. More often than not this resulted in a fresh supply of jewelry and lavish gifts. Together and separately the Dolly Sisters facilitated the downfall and ruin of many men. Their lifestyle that would eventually impact them horribly, and through happenstance would also have a future effect on Jean's life. In 1922 Jean managed to fall in with top entertainer Eddie Cantor for a show, Make It Snappy, again largely with Atteridge and Bryan, but with contributions by Cantor as well, and a relative newcomer, Alex Gerber. It did fairly well at 96 performances, and capitalized in part on the latest entertainment finds, namely The Sheik, which had seen great success in both song and film the previous year, and the flapper, which was paradigm for the young ladies in the city in the 1920s. Bolstered by the success that Cantor brought to the show, Schwartz moved on into a busy and creative 1923. Among the shows were the Shubert's annual Passing Show of 1923 with Atteridge and Romberg (118 performances), the Shubert's Topics of 1923 with Atteridge and producer Alfred Goodman (154 performances), contributions to the Ziegfeld Follies of 1923, and a couple of tunes for the semi-popular Dew Drop Inn. But one of the 1923 shows that got the most attention was Artists and Models of 1923, also staged by the Shuberts. This show tried to equal Ziegfeld in pageantry, but top him with the use of semi-nude dancers on the stage for the sake of art. Needless to say that at 312 performances it saw a great measure of success, and was followed by seven other editions. Jean's best contribution to it was clever Take Me Back to Samoa Some More penned with Cyrus Wood.There was no letting up in Shubert shows for 1924, starting with the original production of Innocent Eyes composed with Atteridge, Romberg and pioneering female lyricist Tot Seymour. Only average in musical content, it still ran for 126 nights. It was followed by yet another edition of the Shubert's Passing Show of 1924 written with Atteridge and Romberg, plus a couple of numbers with Gerber. It passed for an average run of 106 shows. One fine tune, Louwanna, was interpolated into Ziegfeld's Annie Dear late in the year, and sold fairly well. Then, after a quarter century of constant work and composition, Jean Schwartz stepped back for a while and took a much needed break from the daily grind of composing and accompanying and working with productions. It would be over two years before Jean started writing anything again that would be published. He traveled a bit during this period, and generally just enjoyed the collective fruits of his labors. But in 1927 Schwartz was once again engaged by the Shuberts to write a show with Bryan, and came up with A Night in Spain with the book written by Atteridge. This was a more evolved musical than many of the previous revues, and was well received, playing for nearly 6 months on Broadway. My Rose of Spain was one of the standout tunes of the production. Schwartz and Bryan also wrote a separate hit for the general market, and Under the Clover Moon was well covered on stage and in recordings. In May, his old partner Billy Jerome opened up a new publishing house, and Jean co-wrote one final song with him, Cornalia. Unfortunately it fell flat and did not sell. Few copies can be found today. The following year, Schwartz would team up with William Carey Duncan for Sunny Days. In a year when Flo Ziegfeld was dominating Broadway with no less than four shows with big stars, a run of 101 performances of this adaptation of a French play could be considered a success. It yielded a moderate hit, Hang Your Hat on the Moon. One of the struggles of composers who had been working as long as Jean was that of currency in musical trends. However, a review of Sunny Days in the New York Times addressed this by stating, "In composing the music Jean Schwartz has not scorned the blurting fashions of the day or the patterns of other current songs. Although frequently reminiscent, the score sets a rapid pace for musical comedy in general. When you are bidden to 'Hang Your Hat on the Moon' or 'Trample Your Troubles' you do not expect the slow motion of the formal waltz and you are not disappointed. For 'Sunny Days' beats the pace that invigorates before it kills." Following this triumph and after nearly 30 years as a professional composer that Schwartz, now 50, hung up his Broadway hat and went into semi-retirement. After a year of inactivity, one that saw the onset of the Great Depression, Jean teamed with Jack Meskill for one more lasting hit for the Great American Songbook. This would Au Revoir, Pleasant Dreams, which would become band leader Ben Bernie's theme song on radio. Jean may have also been considering dabbling in Hollywood for a while, as in 1930 he was found renting a house in Beverly Hills. Also present in the house was Sally Lang (she spelled it Salley) of Missouri, born around 1902. She was divorced and listed in the Census as his niece, although their true relationship was unclear. Her children, Louis (1918) and Anne (1920), also lived there. By the mid 1930s Jean would wed Salley, who was 23 years his junior. In the mean time, he was back living temporarily in New York City by mid 1931, having traveled to Europe for a while. Winding Down and Setting Things Straight
The next several years would see a smattering of Schwartz numbers with varying lyricists, including some pieces that got a fair amount of radio play, but no lasting hits of note except If I Didn't Care in 1936 Joe Young and Milton Ager.
Some of his best material from this time was composed with Ager, including the hit Trouble in Paradise, and with Haven Gillespie who would himself help write Santa Claus is Coming to Town in 1934. Trust In Me with Ager and Ned Wever made the hit parade in 1937. However, by 1939 Jean was all but done with writing, and retired for good in Los Angeles, California, with only one other piece appearing in 1948. But there was at least one more chapter of his life yet to unfold.The Dolly Sisters lived rather large in Europe and also lived dangerously at times. Finally, in 1933, Jennie was in a serious automobile accident in France that severely scarred her face and destroyed her spirit. After eight long years of surgeries and incomplete recovery, in spite of moral support from her twin, Jennie took her own life in 1941. Rosie decided their story needed to be told, and/or perhaps needed the money as her income had dried up, so she sold the rights of the Dolly Sisters saga to 20th Century Fox. As was common in that time, Fox screenwriters took the truth and suppressed what they didn't like (including Jennie's suicide) and made up things they did like. This included making them twins separated at birth by two years, and showing the well-known brunettes as blondes instead. To make even more entertaining fiction out of apparently superfluous fact, the writers totally ignored the first two marriages of Rosie, including her most substantial one to Jean Schwartz, focusing more on Jennie and her relationship with Harry Fox. Then they made Harry the songwriter, not the stage comedian he had actually been. They even had Jennie fully recover from the devastating accident, which was just as about much whitewashing as they did with Cole Porter in his biopic, ignoring his penchant for men. After the film was released in 1945, both Harry Fox and Jean Schwartz filed suits against Fox and Rosie. Harry claimed his reputation had been damaged by being portrayed as a "lowly songwriter," a punch in the gut to Jean. Schwartz claimed mental damages because the husband of Jenny in the film was actually based on him. They all went to court for five weeks in a well covered trial, due to the number of star entertainers and movie executives that were called to testify. In the end, the suit was dismissed. Twentieth Century Fox head producer Darryl F. Zanuck made it clear at the trial that the purpose of the film was to "give the public the glamorous magic" of the lives of the Dolly Sisters, not to present a true biography. This was also evidenced in other films of the time about George Gershwin and Al Jolson, so certainly in line with their philosophy. Even Jean's sometimes friend and stage entertainer George Jessel concurred that such a presentation does justice to the legend, and the unpleasant fact detract from the magic of their lives. After the trial was over, the Los Angeles Times reported that Schwartz may have lost his suit, but did not miss "on the incidental spotlighting by any means." A proposal for a biopic on him was being shopped around to the studios. The screen play by Jack Scholl was titled The King of Tin Pan Alley. However, it simply did not garner enough interest during a fickle period in Hollywood in which nostalgia was prevalent, but authenticity was less so, and the movie was never made. By 1950, however, his song Chinatown, My Chinatown had already been included in an unprecedented 23 films at the very least, putting it in a unique category with relatively few other entries, including At a Georgia Campmeeting. Schwartz spent the final years of his life in relative seclusion in the San Fernando Valley, living simply in on Rand Court in Sherman Oaks with his wife Salley. He died just after his 78th birthday, survived by Salley and his sister Rosa, who was still living in New York. On the day of his funeral, taking a sad situation and compounding it, the Schwartz home was robbed and $3,700 of Salley's jewelry was stolen. The publicity around the ill-timed theft had an effect on the burglar's conscience, and ten days later the stolen goods were all returned in the mail along with a newspaper clipping about the incident. Jean Schwartz left behind a magnificent legacy of music and memories, having not only contributed to New York ragtime, but to the essence of the progression of Broadway in the 1910s and 1920s. | |||||||||
Eric Philip Severin represents yet another ragtime composer who had minimal yet high quality output, and on which only snippets of information can be found. Severin was born in Copley, Illinois, not far from Moline where he would spend much of his life, to Eric N. Severin and Mathilda Severin, both Swedish immigrants. Eric Jr. was actually the youngest of four boys including Theodore, Bernard and Oscar. Their father was a local merchant in Copley. Eric's year of birth shows as 1877 on his draft record, but Illinois birth records and Knox County records from 1886 confirm the 1876 birth year. By 1900 he was listed in Moline as a professional musician. The sibilings were still living with their recently widowed mother. That same year, his first verifiable composition was published, Kentucky Korn-Kracker. There is a mention of another Severin piece, Lemon Blossoms, on the back, but no copy is known of to date. However, Lemon Blossoms does show up in copyright records for 1899. Philip followed these up in 1902 with Peanuts Frolic, and using print jobbers in various metropolitan areas managed to get it distributed in Chicago and New York, and possibly beyond. Some of the information of Severin's life was derived from the concerted efforts of Dave Jasen and Gene Jones in the book That American Rag published in 2000. It is a highly recommended source for a very different look at where ragtime came from and how it eventually reached the public. | ||||||
Considering how mildly prolific a composer Arthur Sizemore was, it is unusual that so little is known about him, and virtually nothing at all about his older brother Logan Sizemore. What information that could be captured from public records and articles is included here as a reference to Arthur, with mention of Logan, putting in perspective their place in ragtime and popular music. | ||||||
There were many composers who in the world of ragtime could be considered one-shots, as they had perhaps only one rag to their name. While most are hardly a blip on the radar, some, like Clarence Wiley, need to be regarded due to some unusual facet of their contribution. In the case of Maurice K. Smith, he was one of the few ragtime or popular music performers on the west coast who had a rag published, and even rarer, his was done in Los Angeles, California. (Note: Maurice K. should not be confused with Maurice H. Smith, an East Coast performer and music arranger of the same period.) |
Ted Snyder was born in Freeport, Illinois to Andrew and Anna Snyder, fresh from Louisiana, followed by his sister Lillian Snyder five years later. When Ted was around 6, the family moved across the border to Boscobel, Wisconsin where he attended public school. His mother and sister started a vaudeville act around 1893 when Lillian was 7 and Ted was 12. He played the piano while they sang and danced.
By 1900 the family had moved to Chicago, Illinois, without his father as Anna appears to have been widowed in the late 1890s.Snyder's earliest foray into show business came in the form of a job posting theater bills around town. After high school he got work as a cafe pianist. Pretty soon he was doing minor arranging and composing as a staff pianist for a Chicago firm. While still in Chicago, one of his pieces composed with his lyricist partner Ed Rose made it to Broadway. The Goblin Man was featured in A Venetian Romance, a less than successful show that ran for 28 performances. But it was an encouraging start. Many of the partner's songs were put into print by Frederick A. Mills in New York. After he had a handful of other pieces published by Mills while still living in Chicago, Snyder moved to New York City around 1906. The amicable 6 foot tall musician had also gotten married to French born actress Hope L. Snyder on June 22, 1906, although whether they met or wed in Illinois or New York is unclear. In 1907 he began to publish with Rose under the imprint of Rose & Snyder Company, based in Tin Pan Alley at 42 West 28th Street, an address recently vacated by composer and publisher Harry Von Tilzer. During that time Snyder divided his time between New York and Chicago, largely representing the firm's Illinois office. Ted and Ed's business relationship hit a wall in a less than harmonic manner in a courtroom in 1908. After a string of non-hits, Snyder decided to go into the publishing business by himself. There were a few solo attempts at composition early on, but the bulk of his work was as a composer working with other lyricists. Sometimes an underestimated talent as a composer, Snyder proved himself early on by writing a hit rag, Wild Cherries. Soon after the success of his big hit, he formed a self-named publishing house with a silent partner and financial backer, Henry Waterson. Henry had first met Snyder when he was barely making a living as a pianist and fledgling publisher. However, he saw the enterprising spirit and energy in Ted, so he helped him get a fresh start in the business while standing quietly in the background as a guiding financial force. The Ted Snyder Company opened in June 1908 at in the Crown Building at 112 West 38th Street, halfway between the current Tin Pan Alley and the future Broadway district publishing center. That building was owned by the Crown Publishing Company, of which Waterson was a director. It also housed a secondary publisher that Snyder was involved with, Seminary Music, who issued some of Scott Joplin's rags in 1908 and 1909. Ted and Ed Rose must have reconciled, since Rose was working in Snyder's professional department at the new location. By November 1908, they were expanding operations to another floor in the building.From this point on Snyder was one of the great entrepreneurs of Tin Pan Alley, running a literal music factory of which the main mission was to turn out hits and turn over profits. In spite of the success and often enduring quality of many of his compositions, he was somewhat better known as a publisher than a composer/arranger. Just the same, the sheer output of his compositional credits is quite impressive. Census and city records from 1910 show him well established as a Manhattan publisher, even though he was equally adept as a pianist and accompanist, still working in the vaudeville theaters as a song plugger and entertainer. He was ably helped by his manager, Fred Clark, who remained with the organization for more than a decade, mostly running the Chicago operations. It was Ted Snyder who first took a chance on the young Russian immigrant Irving Berlin, giving this talented musician and songwriter his start and his first great exposure. According to Berlin's obituary, he had taken a lyric to Snyder for consideration, and the newly minted publisher asked to hear the melody. Even though Irving had not considered adding his own tune to the lyric, he improvised one on the spot, hummed to Snyder's pianist/arranger, and performed it right away. Snyder was impressed enough to bring Berlin into the fold in short order. In turn, it was Berlin who helped rekindle the phenomenal sales of the popular Wild Cherries by adding lyrics to it. Berlin also helped create one of the animal dance crazes with a set of lyrics for George Bostford's Grizzly Bear Rag. Snyder quickly started to collaborate on a number of songs with Berlin between 1909 and 1912, initially with Irving in the capacity of lyricist. In fact, it appears that Snyder wrote exclusively with Berlin in 1910, with the two of them contributing to either or both music and lyrics by that time, much in the way Lennon and McCartney would work fifty years later. That same year they had one piece interporlated into The Jolly Bachelors and another in Up and Down Broadway,
With the publication in 1911 of Alexander's Ragtime Band, Berlin's work provided enough publicity and income for the company that Snyder and Waterson found themselves in the position of having to pay Irving more royalties than they were comfortable with. Yet the pair needed to show gratitude to the young genius so as to keep his considerable talent within the fold. So Waterson re-incorporated the company with Berlin to form Waterson, Berlin & Snyder. Their office was above the famed Strand Theater in Manhattan. Ed Rose left the firm at that time, possibly feeling a bit crowded out by the increasing influx of new talent. As it turns out, 1911 was a troublesome year for other reasons as well. One incident actually went largely unnoticed for nearly 80 years, in fact. After the release of Alexander's Ragtime Band, there was a notice in a New York paper that composer Scott Joplin was looking to have a word with Mr. Berlin. As it turns out, Joplin had been shopping his opera Treemonisha to various publishers, and it is very likely it ended up on the desk of the firm's prime composer for evaluation. While Waterson, Berlin & Snyder eventually returned the manuscript, there seems to be some historical concurrence that Berlin had the finale of the opera stuck in his head. The end result was that the vers of Alexander's Ragtime Band had many similarities to Joplin's A Real Slow Drag, but times being what they were in society, a plagiarism suit appears to have never been filed. Joplin reportedly altered his melody slightly to distinguish it from Berlin's big hit. Another issue, one that took several years to resolve, had to do with contracts and rights. Publisher Charles K. Harris brought a suit against Ted Snyder, which was continued against the re-formed company, alleging that they had the publishing rights to song There's a Girl in Havana by E. Ray Goetz and Alfred Baldwin Sloane. Harris reportedly had the exclusive rights to publish music from the Lew Fields' production The Never Homes in which the song was interpolated. However, the composers chose to take it to Snyder. It became a benchmark case for distinguishing the differences of binding rights in the increasingly lucrative publishing world, deciding if composers could act individually in placing their works when an alternate contract vehicle was in place. Goetz and Sloane purported that the piece was written by other composers contracted with Snyder. Harris ultimately won the case in 1914, and Snyder was denied an appeal in 1915. In spite of Berlin's mounting success, a notice for a 1912 concert in Reading, Pennsylvania gives Snyder the due consideration by stating that "Ted Snyder's popular hits, embracing the best selections of the New York composer and publisher, were probably the most relished selections on the programme. The feature songs from several of the latest music comedies were given." The two also worked together as a performing team, as noted in a December 1912 review of an advertising club meeting: "... A feature of the dinner was a cabaret performance. Irving Berlin, composer of popular songs, accompanied by Ted Snyder, another composer, at the piano, sang several of his own compositions, in some of which Snyder had collaborated..." Snyder did align himself with a number of other lyricists outside of his time with Berlin, looking less perhaps for a hit song than just having a consistent output of material for the public to purchase. As was often the case, he would team some of his staff or contract writers with each other to see what they turned up, and in some cases there were some minor sucesses, and in others the two (or three) might not click, and nothing came out of the collaboration. Among those that Snyder wrote his own pieces include Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby, who would eventually form their own formidable songwriting team. Among his long-time mainstays were Joe Young and Sam M. Lewis, who gave text to a number of hits in the Snyder catalog.His influence and gravitas were made clear in May 1914 when the theater district had a "Ted Snyder Week," featuring songs from his catalog, and appearances by the composer himself. As described in the New York Clipper on May 16, under the heading of Ted Snyder Night a Howling Success: "Ted Snyder night at Marcus Loew's Avenue B Theater last Wednesday night was the biggest success that anyone anticipated. The theater was crowded to the front doors. Several hundred were unable to obtain admission. Ted Snyder had about one dozen well known writers and singers on hand, and the affair wound up in a blaze of glory when Snyder himself was introduced and brougth on his 'Eight Soldiers Singing On to Mexico.' A slide showing the American flag was thrown on the screen and a storm of applause swept over the house... It was a big night all around for Ted Snyder." New York City was a highly competitive market, and through a combination of volume and the best possibile quality, much of that from Berlin for a time, Snyder was able to maintain second or third place from time to time behind the enormous Jerome H. Remick Publishing Company, with a large presence in Manhattan in spite of it being based in Detroit, Michigan. Yet in league with many of his peers, Ted was not only a charter member of, but a driving force behind the formation ASCAP, founded in 1914. He and the co-founder, composer Victor Herbert, were active as the society's biggest supporters for many years. Whether Ted saw himself as more of a business man or a musician is not at issue. However, his own role in his company was a matter of curiosity in a New York Clipper article in June 1916, partially excerpted here: It is a paradox of the music business that places Ted Snyder's name in the junior partner section of the firm styled Waterson, Berlin & Snyder. For to the general public the name of Waterson is compartively unknown; that of Berlin famed as a song writer only; whereas the name Ted Snyder is stamped indelibly on the poular mind. This in spite of the fact that Berlin's a fame-flash of successive hits, and Waterson's sagacity in financially backing them in such a way that they speedily became hits led to a change in firm style on the part of the the concern that had previously been known as the Ted Snyder Co.
Waterson deserves all credit for his business acumen. Berlin stands at the very apex of popularity as a lyricist-composer, and yet it may be deemed a crowning tribute to lasting popularity to realize that performers seldom, if ever, refer to the firm as Waterson, Berlin & Snyder, but usually say "Let's go over to Snyders."Ted Snyder is a gentleman. You realize the fact that you are in good company the moment you enter upon a conversation with him. It may be true that Waterson originally found him pounding the keys in bazaar neighborhoods, but, if Ted ever had anything in common with the life of which he then formed a part, he has evidently completely outgrown its influence. He impresses you as the kind of a man who makes the most irregular existence in the world (that forced upon one popularizing songs) adhere to some sort of regularity. For he could not posess that steady eye, that breezy way of handling his correspondences, and that ability to appear at ease to worth-while vialtore unless he made the most of the hours dedicated to slumber in a night greatly curtailed of it... To-day, if you talk to Ted, he will say nothing about his own part in the development of modern music, but will tell you that Irving Berlin, unassisted, was responsible for the revolution in melody construction. Snyder lists the Strand Theater address on his 1918 draft record, and his occupation as music publisher. At that time he was living at the New York Athletic Club in Manhattan. In early 1919 Berlin left the firm and formed his own company while retaining some ownership interest in the collaborative company. He continued on a brilliant career as both a publisher and composer that lasted over 6 decades. Berlin maintained his interest in Snyder's firm for several years. Snyder continued to work on stage and for special shows as well, even accompanying singer Al Jolson from time to time.
In 1919 Ted managed to get a show headed towards Broadway with the prohibition-themed The Water's Fine, originally titled Raising the Aunty. It had a book by writer Glen MacDonough, and starred veteran performer May Irwin. The production was a musical version of Sister Mary, a show that Irwin had previously worked in. In spite of good reviews in many papers, it closed while still on the road, never actually making it to the "great white way." In the 1920 Census Ted was shown living in two places at once. One was allegedly in Santa Monica, California on January 3, with Hope listed as in the home. It may have been a coincidence since he and Hope were no longer living together, but the ages and origins match well enough, and it shows that Theodore Snyder was running or working in a music store. The other listing, which was likely more current, was taken four days later on January 7, and shows Ted living in Manhattan on East 36th Street, listed as a music publisher, with composing was not mentioned. There are a number of possibilities to account for these multiple listings. Hope had petitioned for legal separation from Ted in early 1916 on the grounds of abandonment, and he had been paying her alimony since that time. He had spent several months in Chicago in 1915 and when she asked to join him he wrote back saying "It is not advisable." When he cut her allowance and she asked for more, he suggested that she go into the movies to make money. It became clear to her that Snyder was having an affair at that time. Hope eventually sued for a divorce, which was either granted or announced on June 28th, 1920. The complaint showed that she now considered herself to be a "movie actress," but records supporting any roles she played were difficult to locate. Another "movie actress" named Marie (with inevitable references in the media to the recent song hit Oh What A Pal Was Mary), was named as a co-respondent in the action. The timing of this action may be a bit suspect as the Census, taken on January 7, shows him cohabitating with Marie Snyder as his wife. It is likely that Hope, who would have moved near Hollywood to pursue acting, was living in Santa Monica and listed Ted due to what she felt was a legal obligation. Perhaps as a result of stress from the pending divorces and other factors, in March Ted had suffered from appendicitis, and spent several weeks at home recovering from the surgery.Ted's penultimate major hit from this time started out as a catchy tune headed in a different direction from where it ended up, as the title Rose of Araby from 1921 might suggest. He was happy with the chorus, but having trouble with the verse, an element he believed was fundamental to a song if it was strongly constructed. A partner convinced Snyder that he should alter the song lyrics to associate itself with the recent best selling book, The Sheik. So with some help it was rewritten as The Sheik of Araby, and released just as the news that the book would be made into a movie starring the mysterious Rudolph Valentino became public knowledge. Such publicity did nothing but boost the song, which was all the rage when the Valentino craze swept the United States. The song was a big hit on piano rolls and records which sold a lot of sheet music as well. Even The Beatles recorded it forty years later having a little fun with it at that. While it obviously was never included on a soundtrack for the film, which lacked one during the silent era, Snyder would sometimes hire boys to sing the song to an off-stage piano accompaniment during certain scenes. He also wrote two other pieces to coincide with the career of the tragic Valentino, including You Gave Me Your Heart for Blood and Sand and That Night in Araby for the inevitable sequel, The Son of the Sheik. In June 1922, Snyder, who had been a presence in Chicago from a distance, opened a large music emporium in that city. His Song Shop had been doing business since he obtained the building in 1921, but was undergoing many changes in advance of their eventual grand opening. It was considered to be a model establishment by the Music Trade Review as reported in their July 8 edition:
...The fact is, we have got so much to tell about Ted Snyder's new song shop that we don't know where to begin, and we can assure dealers who read this article that if they will apply just a little bit of the enthusiasm cited in our story their sales will show a marked increase... There are many features which contribute to its success. The store boasts a silver-dollar floor, which brings many curiosity seekers who afterward become purchasers. This silver-floor idea was thought up by Ted Snyder as something similar to the waterfall staircase in the Crystal Palace of New York, where patrons of this establishment walk upstairs on glass steps underneath which is constantly flowing a stream of water. This, however, is only one of the novel features of Ted Snyder's Song Shop. The window displays each week are famous in themselves. For instance, the second week of the opening was devoted to "Sapphire Sea," illustrated by a large gold-fish aquarium, in which a blue electric bulb set off the brilliant hues of the goldfish. A base of sand and a tropical setting further enhanced the display. The third week "Dancing Fool" was featured. The window was painted to appear as though a brick had been hurled at it; in fact, the brick itself lay in the window just in front of the song in large letters, "Song Hit Here," and the boxing gloves of Benny Leonard, with which he won the championship, were shown as a further inducement for passers-by to pause and gape at this bellicose display. These three are just a sample of the winning windows appearing in Ted Snyder's Song Shop each week. Here is real, live, aggressive merchandising of a nature calculated to win sales... The store became legendary, and references were made to the "glory days" of Snyder's Song Shop at State and Monroe well into the 1950s, long after it had shut down. Also through his Song Shop, Ted briefly entered the recording business as a jobber. They were responsible for the distribution of the Cameo Records line from 1922 to at least 1926. Henry Waterson, who had previously been involved with Little Wonder Records, was the vice president of the newly formed Cameo firm, becoming the president in 1925. Their biggest outlet was the Macy's department store chain. The first issue from the Cameo catalog in February 1922 was #200 by the Velvetone Dance Orchestra, and it just happened to be The Sheik of Araby.
Ted's final hit, composed in 1923, was the enormously successful Who's Sorry Now, composed with Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby, a piece that endures into the 21st century. While it took over two decades to gain any serious traction, the piece was made famous in part by Lisette Verea in the 1946 Marx Brothers movie A Night in Casablanc, then even more so through the recording by 1950s starlet Connie Francis. The song's legacy in the public as well as in the courts lived at least into the late 1990s. A dispute emerged after the enactment of the 1976 copyright act, which had a provision to extend copyrights beyond the previous 56 year lifetime initially set in by 1906 copyright act. Snyder's wife and oldest son terminated the grant of copyright to Mills Music under the new law, but Mills insisted that it was still entitled to a share of mechanical royalties on any work (recordings, films, piano rolls, etc.) completed before the termination on January 3, 1980. The amount of money in dispute at that time was rather small at $1,343.41 for over 400 licenses, but for Mills, and the arbitrating representative, Harry Fox, it was a matter of principle. In essence, the decision would have an impact on thousands of hit songs composed from the late 1910s forward. The final decision was not made until January 8, 1985, by the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit. In the end, Ted's family and the families of composers everywhere who were reobtaining copyrights were not sorry, as Who's Sorry Now and all of the royalties from recordings and "derivative works" of the piece were conveyed with the copyright ownership. The argument was that the copyright laws were designed for the benefit of the composers and artists, so their decision, reversing an earlier decision partially in favor of Mills and Fox, had a positive impact on all copyright owners. Their rights were further extended under the so-called Bono/Disney copyright law of 1998, in which Who's Sorry Now also played a role due to the 1985 decision.Hoping to get something on Broadway in a time where there were more theaters than ever and attendance was high, Ted teamed with Harry B. Smith to write the songs for the revue Fashions of 1924. However, the fashions never even made it out of the month of July in 1923, running only 13 performances. Snyder never wrote specifically for Broadway again, but a couple of his pieces did make it into revues later in the 1920s. Ted spent some time as a performer again, often heard on the radio in New York City between 1923 and 1928. For a time Snyder also fronted a studio group, Ted Snyder and his All Star Band. In May 1928, Ted formally resigned from Waterson, Berlin & Snyder, leaving only Henry Waterson as a member of the firm. It would soon disappear in the wake of movie studio buyouts, much as the Jerome H. Remick company did during that same period. In January 1929, he opened a new publishing firm at 1650 Broadway in New York, but it did not last very long. Ted then followed the siren call heard by many East Coast composers that year as movie musicals were clearly in vogue, and abandoned New York for California in late 1929, never looking back. As of the 1930 Census, Ted was shown as living at 1250 S. Holt Avenue in Los Angeles, just outside of Beverly Hills, with Marie. Even though he was nearly done with it, he still listed his occupation as a song writer. Hope was still living in Santa Monica, but now working as a private practical nurse. One of Ted's first big projects was composing songs and incidental music for The Temptations of 1930, which debuted in Los Angeles at the Mayan Theater in October. This appears to have been his last work for live theater, and only one piece from the show was ultimately published. At some point in the 1930s Marie gave birth to both of the couple's children, Theodore F. Snyder Jr. and Paul Snyder. From 1930 to 1932 his output with various lyricists would be only six songs, mostly for filmes, after which he retired on his publishing earnings and royalties. The Sheik of Araby and Who's Sorry Now alone helped the couple live comfortably. That income was supplemented by some syndicated West Coast radio work as well. Snyder lived his remaining years in California as a restaurateur and nightclub owner, having started with his café for artists and composers in 1936, located in Hollywood on the famous Sunset Strip. Preson Sturges reportedly favored this hangout. Snyder sold it for a profit in 1939. He also occasionally did some behind the scenes work with movie studios, much of it sadly uncredited today. Ted lived the final years of his life in Woodland Hills, California in the San Fernando Valley. Theodore Snyder died from complications following an abdominal surgery on July 12, 1965, leaving behind his widow and two sons. He was buried in the Oakwood Park Memorial Park Cemetery in nearby Chatsworth. Marie followed him in March 1980. In 1969, composer Johnny Mercer and composer/publishers Abe Olman and Howie Richmond founded the Songwriters Hall of Fame, with Snyder being one of the first composers inducted the following year. | ||||||||
Music ran deep in the Stark family, one way or another. For Etilmon Stark it was the other. The passion that his publisher father had for being responsible for the disemination of good music was echoed in Etilmon's ability to actually create it, more so than his brother, musically talented pianist/violinist sister and amateur pianist father. But it wasn't always easy being a Stark, to be certain. His given name was quite possibly Etilman, after his uncle who may have gone by that spelling (seen in Census records), and which is the more common spelling of that name that could also be shortened to Tilman. However, Etilmon is seen in reference to him in many biographies. His burial record oddly shows Etilmione, which may be a derivation of his baptismal name as reported in They All Played Ragtime, Ethelmonde. We will use the less common but more frequently referenced Etilmon spelling for this essay.
Etilmon was born in Indiana to Kentucky native John Stillwell Stark and his British-born wife Sarah Ann (Casey) Stark. He was the first of three siblings, including William Paris (1869) and Eleanor Stillwell (1871). One other sibling did not live through infancy. While Etilmon's birth year has been traditionally cited as 1868, his age in the August 1870 Census was three and it was thirteen in June 1880, thus reinforcing an 1867 year of birth. In 1868 his father had moved the family to Camden, Missouri, to stake his own claim as a farmer, having worked with his brother since before the Civil War. As John Stark found farming not suited to his gifts, and he took up ice cream, still a fairly specialized business given the seasonal availability of ice and absence of mechanical refrigeration in the 1870s. The formula for his ice cream must have been tasty, as he actually did very well, wandering through northwest Missouri in a Conestoga wagon and selling ice cream to any farmer or small town resident he could find.
In the 1880 Census the Stark family is shown in Cillicothe, with John selling pianos and organs and Etilmon most likely in school. John also took up piano tuning to provide an added incentive for follow-up business. However, carting pianos around got tiresome and Etilmon's father, now in his mid 40s, decided he wanted the customers to come to him. Finding an opportunity in Sedalia, MO, he bought the floundering J.W. Truxel music store in 1886, and set up shop at 516 South Ohio Street in what was to become the "cradle of ragtime." While Will would join his father in the business eventually named John Stark & Son, Etilmon went a different direction. He had already been studying violin and wanted a career in music. He accomplished this by first becoming a band music major then instructor. His first known assignment was a the Marmaduke Military Academy (now the Missouri Military Academy) located in Sweet Springs, Missouri. The original campus was burned down in the fall of 1896, and even though the school was temporarily placed with the Culver Military Academy, William went tp the Wentworth Military Academy (originally the Wentworth Male Academy) in Lexington, Missouri. There he essentially helped to create their band program and formed their first band. In 1897 Wentworth was made a military post of the Missouri National Guard by the state General Assembly, and and Stark, among others, was commissioned as an officer of the cadet corps there. As of 1899 he was referred to as Captain E.J. Stark, musical director. He was married to Margaret Ryland on June 7, 1898, with her father, a "minister of the gospel," presiding. In November 1899 she gave birth to their first child, Margaret Eleanor, the latter in honor of the grandmother Etilmon never met. The family appears in Lexington, Missouri in the 1900 Census with Etilmon listed as a music teacher.Stark held his position at Wentworth until at least 1905. While there, he not only scored a large number of arrangements for his bands, but penned the W.M.A. Cadets' March as well in 1898. Understandably taking advantage of his father's new profession as a publisher of ragtime music, particularly that of Scott Joplin, E.J. started submitting some of his own works. It has long been known that John Stark's standards for what he published were, for the most part, consistently high. Whether he published E.J. submissions based on the familial connection or on merit is not clear, but his works should have passed the merit test. The first of these was Trombone Johnsen: Rag-Time Cakewalk in 1902, available in piano, band and orchestral arrangements. This was followed in 1903 by a slow two-step in 4/4 time, Kyrene. Margaret gave birth to another daughter in 1902, Sarah Eleanor, and a son in 1904, Etilmon J. Jr.. In 1905 E.J. left Wentworth and found work as a musical instructor, as well as working with orchestras, and for his father. He started arranging works from the Stark catalog both for piano and ensemble, one of the earliest being the Black Cat Rag by Frank Wooster and Ethyl B. Smith (later sold off to Jerome H. Remick). When their father moved to New York for a few years, Will became the general manager of the St. Louis office, and Etilmon became a staff arranger and composer. Among the composers whose works he arranged was his sister-in-law, Will's wife, Carrie Bruggeman Stark. As she later noted, she admitted to not being able to notate her own works, and that she had written more songs than she could even remember, although very few of them actually made it into print. That which did get published was usually completed by Etilmon, published under her name or the pseudonym Cal Stark. She would play the piece for him and he would notate it for typesetting and production.Given the public's perception of the high quality of the Stark name, and the relatively low volume of his own works, it is curious why Etilmon chose to release two pieces under the pseudonym Bud Manchester. The first, from 1907, was Brain-Storm Rag, which had an eye-catching cover of a wild-haired pianist extracting all kinds of noise out of an upright piano, with notes flying and falling over and even running away. The rag itself is of fair quality for that time. However, It is an unusual entry because this fantastical art is unsigned (or the signature is covered by the Stark logo), and it also represents a kind of manic whimsy that is not entirely congruous with the images on much of what the company published. Then again, James Scott's Ophelia Rag came out just a little later with a great Clare Dwiggins cartoon on the cover, so perhaps it was the younger management in St. Louis that helped push these things through. The 1910 Census shows Etilmon and the family at 1441 Cutter Avenue near modern day Forest Park, and he was listed as a music teacher with an orchestra. Whether this means he was teaching orchestra or also working with one is unclear, but it may have been both. In 1912 his second Bud Manchester piece, Clover Blossom Rag, a fine work, was released. The following year would see publication of perhaps E.J.'s finest syncopation, Billiken Rag. It had a mysterious classical feel to it, opening with a cascade of octaves and arpeggios in a minor key, resolving into a happier syncopated section. The title came from an unusual Buddha-like charm doll created by St. Louis art teacher Florence Pretz, something she conceived of in a dream that was to bring good luck to its owner. The Billiken is now the mascot of both St. Louis University and their high school. One of Etilmon's most important and enduring contributions to ragtime came in 1912 (other years from 1909 to 1915 have been cited, but 1912 is likely correct) with the publication of Fifteen Standard High Class Rags. This was a folio of orchestrations for an 11 piece ensemble, with seven by Scott Joplin (one co-composed with Scott Hayden), four by James Scott, and one each by Joseph F. Lamb, J. Russel Robinson, Maurice Kirwin and Arthur Marshall. Some of the arrangements dated back several years before the folio was released. While E.J. did not orchestrate all of them, as he had help from St. Louis musician David Socrates DeLisle, and an arrangement of Frog Legs Rag by Scott Joplin, he did manage most or all of the Joplin contributions. It has been reported that New Orleans musicians who used this folio referred to it as the "red back book," due to the hue of the back cover. That name has since stuck to the collection.This was one of the first orchestral folios of ragtime, and certainly the first featuring Joplin rags, so it did fairly well. Some of the first recordings of arrangements from this book were done by New Orleans trumpeter Bunk Johnson in 1947, on the cusp of the first big ragtime and traditional jazz revival. The more famous set of recordings, primarily of the Joplin pieces, came about through the efforts of conductor Gunther Schuller in 1973, who recorded an album titled The Red Back Book. These same arrangements caught the ear of film director George Roy Hill, and even though he was not able to retain Schuller for his latest project, he did manage to get the orchestrations for adaptation by Marvin Hamlisch for the 1973 film The Sting. Among those was, of course, Etilmon's original conception of Joplin's The Entertainer, which was little changed from the original arrangement more than six decades after it was first introduced. The year 1913 was a busy one for E.J. as he turned out several other works as well, including a waltz and a tango co-composed with a friend, La Mode. In They All Played Ragtime, it is said that he also wrote the libretto for an opera composed by his father, but as it has not surfaced this remains as more of a curiosity. Some of the titles are known, however it was never printed. Another tango, the whimsical Chicken Tango, would emerge in 1914, adopted as the "official number for the great State Tango Tournament" that same year. While most of these typses of pieces of that era were, in reality, habañeras, they were still regarded as part of the popular tango dance craze of the early to mid 1910s. There would be two more works that were published in 1917, one of them a patriotic piece, We Are Coming, Uncle Sammy, to lyrics by E.J.'s father John. He continued to push out orchestral arrangements into the late 1910s.In the 1920 Census, Etilmon and his family were shown to be living at 7377 Maple Avenue in Maplewood, a western suburb of St. Louis. He would remain there for the rest of his long life. John had been living with them for several years following the death of Sarah Stark. He was still listed as the proprietor of a music publishing company, even though his son Will had taken over most of the operations by this time. Etilmon was listed as a pianist in a moving picture theater, but it is possible that he was still giving private lessons. Little is known of his activities through the 1920s, but his father died in October, 1927, leaving the operation of Stark & Son Music in the hands of Will and Carrie. Within a few years they would repurpose the company into what it started as, moving from the Laclede Avenue building to a plant at Vandeventer Ave, and reverting back to a print jobber available for large printing jobs. Etilmon Jr. did not go into the music world, instead training to become a pharmacist. In the 1930 Census he is shown to be a druggist, likely working for the Harper Pharmacy company in St. Louis. Etilmon Sr. had also shifted gears, literally, as he was now the proprietor of an engine piston ring manufacturing company. At some point in the early 1930s, the older E.J. would become an inspector of some kind. Whether this meant in the local police department or perhaps in some other field is difficult to determine from the St. Louis directory listings, but he retained that title through at least 1943. By 1935, E.J. Jr. was a vice president of Harper Pharmacy, and in the early 1940s he would become president and treasurer or that company. In 1949 E.J. was located in St. Louis by researchers and authors Rudi Blesh and Harriet Janis, who were preparing the book They All Made Ragtime. They were able to get much of the family history from Etilmon and Carrie Bruggeman Stark, who had recently been widowed by the death of Will earlier in the year. While some of the information was not spot on, it still formed a major part of the foundation of the pioneering text, so their contributions are invaluable in regard to not only the Stark publishing history, but to ragtime in general. Etilmon J. Stark died on New Years Day, January 1, 1962, at age 94. He is interred near his parents in St. Peter's Cemetery in St. Louis. Thanks to researchers Bryan Cather and Andrew Greene for a couple of clarifications on the music and life events.
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Fred S. Stone was a cross-border phenomenon in the music world, famous in both Detroit and central Canada. In fact, in spite of his dominance in music circles in early 20th century Detroit, Michigan, Stone was actually born in Chatham, Kent County, Ontario, making him Canadian by birth, and technically not African-American. He was the youngest of seven children born to Charles Stone and Susan (Johnston) Stone. Siblings included Agnes (1862), Washington (1864), Bella Jane (1865), Charles (1868), William (1869) and Cora Lee (1871). The previously unpublished information on Stone's early years in Canada and his birth name and date was researched by the author. The date and cause of death was uncovered by Michigan researcher Mike Montgomery. Some additional facts were provided by California researcher Nan Bostick and a Ragtime Ephemeralist article. The remainder is from public records, newspapers and common biographical sources. | ||||||
Wilbur Sweatman was born in Brunswick, Missouri, to Wilbur and Millie Sweatman in 1882 (the fathers name is conjecture as his name is not listed on the 1880 or 1900 Census, and a similar Sweatman appears in 1870). He was the youngest of three children, including older sisters Linda (nicknamed Sissie) and Eva. Wilbur's father was a barber in Brunswick, about 60 miles northeast of Kansas City, but it is not certain whether either parent had been a slave.
Being that his father was born in Missouri, this would diminish that chance for him. Linda was musically trained and helped to teach Wilbur music as well. He later stated that she taught him most of his piano skills.While growing up, Wilbur started playing the violin with Linda, but eventually switched to the clarinet. It is likely in spite of his claims that he was self taught on those instruments that he had some other training, perhaps in a school music program, as his technique proved to be very polished on the instrument. In the late 1890s Wilbur started touring with circus bands who routinely used amateurs as they were cheap. As of the 1900 Census he is shown still living with his family, the father not in the picture, in Brunswick. Even though he had already been performing, Wilbur's occupation is shown as barber, perhaps having been trained by his father. Linda is listed as a music teacher, and Eva as a school teacher. A career with shears was soon abandoned as Sweatman picked up work with Professor Clark Smith's Pickaninny Band of Kansas. This was followed by a stint with the higher profile P.G. Lowery Band. During this time he expanded on his knowledge of the clarinet and learned how to finger two of them at once, giving himself a unique act to market and to keep employed. In 1900 and 1901 Wilbur played briefly with Mahara's Minstrels, then found work with the Forepaugh and Sells Circus Band. While in Minneapolis in 1903, he went to the Metropolitan Music Store with a subset of that band and made two cylinder recordings. One was of E. Harry Kelly's Peaceful Henry which had become a substantial hit. The other was Scott Joplin's Maple Leaf Rag, likely the first recording ever done of that piece. Given the limited number of cylinders made at one time, it appears that no copies of either of them exist today; only some evidence of their having been cut. Wilbur kept on playing and traveling, spending some time also with W.C. Handy in The Musical Spillers led by William N. Spiller. He also expanded his skills to playing three clarinets at one time, a feat unequaled in that era. After a few years on the road, Wilbur settled for a time in Chicago playing in numerous dance bands and orchestras in the area, and eventually leading some of his as early as 1908. Given his geography and Chicago's future in jazz, it should be noted that Sweatman was, in some ways, a contemporary of cornetist Buddy Bolden, even though it is likely their paths never crossed. Both were developing some form of jazz in two very different areas of the country, yet many of Bolden's disciples would end up in Chicago after Sweatman had left the city. This becomes important when looking at the spread of the music as well as its origins, and Sweatman's role, though difficult to pin down, was of some significance. He once stated, whether jokingly or not is not known, "Don't you know I originated jazz in the Ozarks in Missouri?" This counters the clams of "Jelly Roll" Morton and Willie "The Lion" Smith who were in New Orleans and New York respectively at that time, but makes the case that the evolution of jazz was more widespread than just in southern Louisiana, in part because of traveling musicians who would share what they knew or had heard wherever they went. Sweatman is listed in the 1910 Census in Chicago as a theater musician, with a slight skewing of his age, showing as 26.While in Chicago Wilbur played and led at the Big Grand Theater on State at 31st, a large vaudeville and movie house. He also played in a trio consisting of himself with Dave Peyton on piano and George Reeves on the drums, similar to a makeup that Benny Goodman would use for some hot jazz recordings 25 years later. There were many players from that time that recall the level of influence Sweatman had on them, including future jazz player/composer Perry Bradford who cited his style as covering the full range of dynamics from smooth to growling. Other Chicago venues included the famous Pekin Inn, musical home also to composer/pianist Joe Jordan, and the Monogram Theater. His programs included a wide variety of styles, ranging from classical and gypsy tunes to hot syncopated takes on contemporary compositions. In 1911 Wilbur brought out his first rag with publisher Will Rossiter, Down Home Rag. It was unusual in that it consisted entirely of only eight measure sections of 4/4 instead of the traditional sixteen in 2/4. This suggested a different feel than the common duple meter found in ragtime, and was a precursor to how many early jazz pieces would be scored. A song version of Down Home Rag was published by Rossiter two years later due to its growing popularity. The credit for the instrumental piece is listed as Wilbur C. S. Sweatman, although there is no convincing evidence outside of this that he actually had a middle name starting with S, making this an anomaly and perhaps a publisher's error. The song edition listed him only as Wilbur C. Sweatman. Wilbur went on the road in 1911 on one of the eastern vaudeville circuits, and by 1913 had decided to make New York City his home base. An example of the type of bill Sweatman was on could be seen in one of the frequent New York Times entertainment listings such as this one from October 1913. "In addition to Wilkie Bard at Hammerstein's, the bill there this week includes Fatima, the Persian slave dancer, who remains for a third week. Others on the bill are Windsor McCay, the cartoonist [likely with his animated Gertie the Dinosaur]; the Farber Girls, two singing comediennes; Madden and Fitzpatrick in a comedy number; Sherman, van, and Hyman, singers and musicians [likely Gus Van, later of Van and Schenck]; Wentworth, Vesta, and Teddy, comedy acrobats; Stewart Sisters and Escorts from the Alhambra, London; Wilbur Sweatman, clarinet virtuoso and comedian; Savo, 'a juggler for fun,' and Cadieux, comedian on the bounding wire."
The next step for Sweatman was to get into the recording studio. His first New York sessions yielded two takes of his own Down Home Rag and two takes of My Hawaiian Sunshine by L. Wolfe Gilbert. Many historians argue that the loose feel and hints of improvisation found in Down Home Rag posture it as one of the earliest examples of recorded jazz, preceding the Original Dixieland Jass Band's first record by two months. It was issued by Victor Emerson who had left his job at Columbia the year before, following two decades with the pioneering company, to form his own Emerson Records. Emerson had seen the demand for inexpensive but well made records, and resolved to cater his product to the masses, much as Henry Ford had done with the Model T. Two of the cuts were made on relatively small 6" discs using a universal 45 degree cut that was supposed to work on both vertical (Edison) and lateral (Victor) players. The end result was only fair sound quality for each system, but it is still a good representation of Sweatman's work, even at an average of 90 seconds per cut. The other two were done on more conventional 7" double sided records. Sweatman's next series was made in the spring of 1917 on the Pathé label with a group of five saxophones, similar in makeup to the Brown Brothers group which was starting to make a name for itself and may have influenced this session. This unusual combo of one bass, one baritone, one tenor and two alto saxophones under Sweatman's clarinet yielded some gems, including A Bag of Rags and Boogie Rag, one of the first pieces that included the word Boogie in the title. One other piece in this set was also fairly important. In W.C. Handy's autobiography he writes: "It was difficult to get 'Joe Turner [Blues] recorded. I came to New York for that purpose and while walking down Broadway I met my old friend Wilbur Sweatman - a killer-diller and jazz pioneer. He invited me home with him, and his wife Nettie prepared a lovely dinner. While dining she turned on the phonograph, and lo and behold it played 'Joe Turner Blues' which Sweatman had recorded not only on the Pathé but Emerson records also." This was not entirely accurate as the Emerson cut was made by that company's own Military Band, but it does underscore Sweatman's importance even to a high-profile musician like Handy. These recordings are also among the first to use the bass saxophone, soon to be a staple in jazz recordings. Also in 1917 Wilbur Sweatman became one of the first black musicians to join ASCAP. Efforts to locate his 1918 draft card were not successful, even though he was of draft age, so his status of that time concerning his military status or even if he was simply on the road is uncertain. He had been married by 1917 to Nettie Sweatman, 9 years his junior. He recorded again from 1918 to 1920, this time for Emerson's former employer, Columbia Records, The 34 or so sides cut with his Jazz Orchestra (many of the masters have since been lost) were among the first true jazz recordings by an African American group, and cover a wide variety of songs and popular instrumentals for the era. Some were also released on the subsidiary Little Wonder label. Notable tracks include Euday Bowman's Kansas City Blues and Regretful Blues by Cliff Hess. In short order Sweatman was billed as the "Originator and Much Imitated Ragtime and Jazz Clarinetist," which in spite of the hyped ad copy was a relatively accurate statement. Yet after the succes of the ODJB, and subsequent recordings by the Original Creole Orchestra, there is some clear change in Sweatman's style, a little wilder and looser than it had been before.The Music Trade Review of May 3, 1919, announced that: "Wilbur Sweatman, the well-known musical director, who is also responsible for many of the jazz phonograph records, has been engaged to piay a series of concerts at the Eltinge Theatre, New York, with his jazz orchestra. The first of these took place on Sunday last, consisting of a specially selected program of up-to-date successes, among which were featured S. R. Henry's latest success 'Pahjamah,' 'Tishomingo Blues' and 'Corinne.' After his New York engagement Mr. Sweatman and his orchestra will probably tour the country." He was also a smart entrepreneur as just a month before the same paper announced that: "Wilbur Sweatman, well known as an orchestra leader for talking machine companies, has purchased an interest in the Triangle Music Co., New York." It was a smart way to counter royalties paid out on some of the pieces he recorded, and assured him of an outlet for his own works, though it was rarely used in that way since his output was minimal. Sweatman was the top clarinet artist on Columbia until white artist Ted Lewis, of only better than average ability, took over that role early in the 1920s. Still, Wilbur had his New York admirers as well. Clarinetist Garvn Bushell remembered that "Wilbur Sweatman was a clarinetist with a lot of technique that could to things the rest of us couldn't do. He had a bad sound, but he was a great showman. He'd come out and do Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 and play The Rosary on three clarinets. Sweatman was my idol. I just listened to him talk and looked at him like he was God." As of the 1920 Census Wilbur and his wife Nettie were living in Manhattan, sharing their lodgings with a few other people, with his occupation listed as band leader. They would have one daughter, Barbara, during the next few years. Within two weeks of the Census he was performing with his group in Chicago and would be there through most of the winter. While Sweatman took a break from recording in the early 1920s, he was still very active as a performer. Having been friends with Perry Bradford for a while, he helped Bradford get a lady singer friend an audition with Columbia. While she did not get a contract with them, at least Mamie Smith had been heard, and ultimately recorded on the OKEH label. Sweatman did record again in 1923 and 1924 for Gennett. One young piano player who had come up from Washington, DC, had been working with Sweatman's band for a short time when Wilbur went into the studio. However, there is still controversy as to whether that pianist, Duke Ellington, is the one heard on a 1923 recording of Sweatman's composition Battleship Kate, a piece that Sweatman recorded many times. Other musical luminaries who either got their start with Sweatman's band or at least worked with him included Otto Hardwick [bs], Sonny Greer [dr] who would end up with Ellington, Cozy Cole [dr], Jimmie Lunceford [tsx], and Coleman Hawkins [tsx], who would become a major star in his own right.
Throughout the 1920s and into the Great Depression, Sweatman swung his clarinet up and down Harlem and even down into Manhattan, with occassional tours throughout the eastern half of the United States, most of which were heralded with enthusiastic advertising in local newspapers. He may have dabbled in stage work as well, as the 1930 Census lists him as a theater actor. However, this is likely common a miscasting by the Census taker as Sweatman was traveling on the Keith vaudeville circuit with a nine-piece jazz band. He also was listed as married and living in Manhattan, but his wife is not shown on the same page. They may have been separated by this time or he had another home elsewhere. Following a mild resurgence of the popularity of traditional jazz, Wilbur did his last set of recordings on the Vocalion label in 1935, cutting four sides of 1920s style jazz, perhaps his last hurrah as a recording artist. He curtailed most of his playing late in the decade to focus more on the music publishing and talent booking business, but still played from time to time at Paddell's Club with a trio, and elsewhere throughout New York City as a guest with swing bands. There were numerous radio appearances by Wilbur as well. In 1942 Sweatman was shown as having been married once again, this time to Dorothy Sweatman, and living in south Harlem at 371 120th Street. His occupation was listed as a self-employed orchestra leader, but he also ran a theatrical agency around that time. By the early 1950s he had all but hung up his clarinet and started his own publishing firm located at 1674 Broadway. Wilbur subsequently put out a few pieces of his own and his colleagues. Early in that decade Wilbur was in a nasty auto accident that partially incapacitated him and slowed him down considerably. Wilbur Sweatman died in 1961, but some of his troubles were left behind. In his home was a trunk of musical memorabilia of considerable importance, including a report of a an army bag that contained manuscripts of unfinished or unpublished works by Scott Joplin. The contention about the status of Scott Joplin's estate at that point went into the courts, as Wilbur's sister Eva and his daughter Barbara fought over his estate for some time, and many of the physical elements of it fell into disarray. Eventually, much of it disappeared, although how is unclear, as is the disposition of items such as the chest of treasures. With it went much valuable material by not only Sweatman, including his unpublished autobiography, but by Joplin as well. Had this material still been available in the late 1960s as researchers started to do serious work on Joplin's life would have potentially expanded our early knowledge base on the rag composer, particularly in hit later years. Those who remembered Wilbur were also often less than generous in their assessment. Having been a black recording artist at a time when the ODJB, a white group, was making a big splash with "their" new sound, helped to squelch his press, and the loss of many of the Columbia masters, already of questionable quality, plus the disappearance of Emerson and Pathé further buried his potential to be regarded as an early jazz great. Even though he did see renewed fame in the 1950s with the resurgence of traditional jazz and the rediscovery of ragtime, in addition to many cover recordings of Down Home Rag, it may be the latter factor that led to him being cast more in a ragtime mold than jazz. Yet in many ways, his influence was echoed by many who carried on what they had learned from Wilbur in their own recollections and performances. Some of this biographical information was researched by Mark Berresford, and included on a stellar double CD recording that covers the bulk of Sweatman's recorded work from 1916 to 1935. Some additional information comes from 1950s articles by Len Kunstadt and Bob Colton. The remainder was researched by the author in public records, periodicals, and recording logs. | ||||||||||||||
Charles Thompson lived his life for the most part in St. Louis, Missouri where he was born and raised. June 19th has also been cited as his birth date, but his birth record and 1917 draft card clearly show June 9. The 1900 Census shows him as an only child living with his mother, Laura (Hubbard) Thompson, his father Charles N. Thompson having evidently left. Charley was mostly self-taught, having received only a few formal lessons, and had virtually no notation skills. By the time he was 20, Thompson was well involved in the St. Louis music scene, often touring wherever the work would take him. He was known for being a black key player, preferring to eschew the easier keys like C or F because they inhibited his ebullient style. | ||||||
William H. Tyers was a free-born mulatto of former Virginia slaves Henry and Anna Tyers, born in 1870 in Petersburg, Virginia, just south of Richmond. Many biographies state his birth year as 1876, and some show one or both of his parents born outside the U.S. However, U.S. census records are very clear and consistent on both his birth year of 1870 and that the birthplace of both of his parents as Virginia. One document suggests even an 1867 birth year. The cause of this discrepancy between official documents and printed biographies is unknown, but hopefully future researchers will also consult the Census and other records and confirm this updated information as correct. | ||||||||||
One of the more prolific composers of not just the ragtime era but beyond, came from rather humble beginnings in Marengo Illinois, just west of Chicago. He was Born in 1878 (often incorrectly attributed as 1882) to Charles Van Alstyne and Emma M. Van Alstyne, descendants of Dutch immigrants. The family is shown in nearby Riley in 1880, a rural town just south of the somewhat larger Marengo. Egbert took to the keys at an early age, and was playing the organ at the Marengo United Methodist Church by the time he was seven, which is also when his father died. Charles had been the superintendent of the Sunday School at the church, and Egbert's grandfater was the minister of the congregation.
His formal classical training came from Miss Carolyn Coon, daughter of the town's founder. He was later honored with him in 1951 when Egbert was 72 and Miss Coons was 92, and still at work for the phone company. When he was of high school age, Egbert completed his secondary education in Chicago, while also attending the Chicago Musical College (later incorporated into Roosevelt University) thanks to a scholarship. Further piano studies were pursued through a scholarship at Cornell College in Mount Vernon, Iowa. He often returned to Marengo where he played concerts at various venues there.By the time he was eighteen, Bert, as he was often known, took to the road touring the vaudeville circuit throughout the west. This was interspersed with periods back home where he turned out to be an effective organ salesman, given how well he was able to demo the instruments in people's homes. He also dabbled in composition, having a few of his earliest works published, mostly marches and waltzes. While he was not yet writing ragtime, music that was incongruent with his religious upbringing (as was his lifestyle in later years), he did perform the music, sometimes simply because he needed the money. In 1895 Bert was married to concert hall singer Lucile (Trenholme) Van Alstyne. By the time of the 1900 Census the couple moved to Chicago where Egbert appears in the Census as a musician, and Lucile's widowed mother, Emma Trenholme, was residing with them. It was also during this time he met up with Harry Williams, an aspiring lyricist. They teamed up on the circuit as what Williams later termed "a pair of near comedians attached to a punk little, almost funny, fly by night snap around 'Box and Cox' company that was trying to earn just cakes by touring the South and Southwest." It was in that troupe that around 1898 Van Alstyne could have readily been killed by a local gag gone wrong. This story, which displays some of Egbert's careless bravado of the time, was relayed to the New York Sun in by Williams in January of 1908: We played in a hall over a hardware store [in Dardanelle, Arkansas], and there was a dance scheduled to follow the performance. It leaked out that Van Alstyne was a piano thumper of skill, and so the main noise of the dance asked him to chop the keys for the dancers. There were five bucks in it for Van — more honest Injun money that he'd seen in nine rains — and he jumped at the chance.
Van Alstyne's low comedy part in the show was a small bit. but it gave him a chance to squeeze out just one big laugh — and at that time Van, being some young and vealy, would rather have got that laugh out of 'em than sit down to a large bland meal, and meals weren't so dead bland or frequent right then at that. He got his laugh in his small bit by an allusion to the local souse. Upon his entrance in a grotesque rummy's rig somebody on the stage asked him who he was, and then he came out with the name of town's leading drunk. It was a gag that had always gone well. Van had to depend, of course, upon somebody around the theatres of the small towns to furnish him with the names of these township rumdums, and up to the Dardanelle blow in he'd invariably been tipped off right about the local drunks. At Dardanelle, however, he stacked up against one of these country humorists or something. Before making up Van asked this fellow the name of Dardanelle's leading suds artist. "Fellow by tho name of Cunningham," the house mechanician told him, and of course that sounded right and normal. The show went all right, getting its share of shrieks and things, up to the minute that Van Alstvne nudged in and got off his line about the presumable town drunk. "Me? Why. I'm Cunningham," Van got off in reply to tho usual question folowing his entrance — and then there was a dead, dead, horrible silence. Van, who had his head turned toward the audience waiting for the usual howl, allowed his jaw to drop so when that silence came I was afraid it was going to thud on the stage. You never heard such a white frost following a scream line in all your born days. You could hear the little icicles forming and dropping tinklingly from thoe rafters...When the show was about over, however, the manager came back, and he was the solemn looking mug. "Who's this Cunningham bug that I was steered onto?" Van asked the manager. "Oh. nobody," replied the manager, "except the worst man in Arkansas, that's all! He's a gun and knife man from the 0zarks and beyond, and he isn't much of a rummy at that. Mainly he's just bad, and bad all over, and whoever it was told you to use his name in that line handed you a ripe one. Van asked if Cunningham was in the house when the crack had been got off. "No," replied the local manager, "but he'll hear about it. They're some on the talk in this here happy valley." Well, we were all considerably worried about the thing, but we decided to make the best of it and try to forget it. That's the way Van looked at it, anyhow. He had that engagement to whack the piano for the dancers after the show, and the five bones he was to get for the job looked as big as a shifted sandbar to him, and in the business of stripping off his makeup and getting ready to step down to the piano in the hall he forgot about Cunningham. I didn't, though. After shedding my funny clothes I walked through the body of the house and then downstairs, with the idea of sort of rubbering around to hear what I could hear in connection with Van's use of the bad man's name. The dancing bunch were already arriving when I got out front, and a lot of the local sports were hanging around the one entrance watching the Dardanelle girls flock along in their pretties. Presently a huge, gaunt chap nudged up out of the darkness and they addressed him as Cunningham. Then I heard some talk that made my knees wabble around as if I had some of that ataxia. They were saying to the gaunt one that it would be a shame to plug up the piano thumper until after the dance, that he was the only key rapper available in the town of Dardanelle that night, that the girls had set their hearts on the dance and that the musicker could just as well be lead pelted after he'd got through with his job at the piano. "All right," I heard Cunningham growl in reply to that stuff, "but I'll get him when he gets through, and I'll get him right!" ...I wouldn't have given two bits for Van Alstyne's clutch on the game of life as I listened to that stuff, and I was so wabbled up that it took me some time to dope out a way to get Van out of the mess. I went back to the hall, climbed up the stairs and then through the crowd of Dardanelle dancers up forward near the stage to where Van Alstyne was playing away at the dance stuff. I leaned over and whispered a few little warning numbers to him. I told him what was coming off, while the little round globules of perspiration spirted out of his forehead and his eyes bulged. But he went right on playing gamely enough, and I told him of the little way I had framed whereby I thought maybe he could be saved for a future generation. Oh, he went right on playing after I'd left him. but the music had a Chinese sound to me after I'd told him those things, although nobody else in the dancing crowd seemed to notice it. I scampered back to the dark stage, lit a couple of candles that I dug out and looked around for ropes. I let one out of a back window, and when he got a chance to leave the piano Van slid down it. After that I kited out of the hall down the front way, where the pizen Cunningham and his bunch still were standing gloomily around, waiting for the windup of the dance and the appearance of Van Alstyne. I joined Van Alstyne at the hotel a minute or so later, and together we beat it down to the station in time to nail a local that would carry us to our next stop - quite a hike ahead. The rest of the company, leaving Dardanelle at daylight, caught up with us in the afternoon, and they told us that Cunningham had been in all kinds of a horrible rage when Van Alstyne got awav from him and had stormed into the Dardanelle Hotel and heisted all of the other troupers out of their beds and lined them up in the hall to see if the man he wanted was among them. That was some cure for Van Alstyne and all the rest of that little layout of troupers as to the local gag thing. Van cut that line out altogether and built up another laugh for himself, and although that was ten years ago I've never heard him get real funny in alluding to the kinks of other people since that same nervous night in Dardanelle. Ark. During their time on the road evading starvation and angry gunslingers, the two worked up a few songs, as well as the courage to eventually quit the circuit and migrate to New York.
They settled there in 1901 to break into the songwriting business in what would soon be known as Tin Pan Alley. The pair also took local vaudeville gigs, usually performing their own songs on stage. Fortunately, Bert's pianistic talents kept him employed while they were waiting for their break, often as a song plugger for various publishing houses and outlets, working mostly for Shapiro and Remick (when the two still shared a firm).The break they boys were waiting for came in 1903 with the interpolation of Navajo into the stage musical Nancy Brown, as performed by its famous star, Marie Cahill. Its success led to an association with Jerome H. Remick, one of the most prolific publishers of the ragtime era, where they would remain together through at least 1911. Between their collaborative talents and Remick's wide distribution and marketing network, Van Alstyne and Williams became the golden boys of popular song, turning out waltz tunes, intermezzos, comic songs, and an inordinate number of ballads. Their next big hit was Back, Back, Back to Baltimore, followed by the Atlantic City referenced Why Don't You Try? (The Rolling Chair Song). Of the team's big hits, In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree (1905) has remained their most enduring work. Van Alstyne's inspiration for the lyrical waltz song was as simple as a longing for his childhood home in Marengo while he was lonely and broke in New York City. Other tunes like the comical I'm Afraid to Come Home in the Dark (1907) and a follow up to that song also enhanced their growing reputation. It was the combination of Van Alstyne's very hummable and simple melodies and William's lyric poetry that helped keep them popular for so long. Williams was humble and non-assuming in the press, and as early as 1908 was crediting Egbert rof their quick rise to fame as composers. It is well known that fame, particularly in the entertainment world, can have adverse affects on many performers, which although they do not always adversely affect the quality of their work or output, they can create problems in their relationships with others. Van Alstyne suffered from this to a degree, becoming a womanizer, heavy drinker and smoker, and later a hypochondriac to some degree (understandable, given these vices). This behavior was underscored to a degree when in 1904 he left Lucile and eloped on July 21 to Waukegan, Wisconsin, with vaudeville actress Louise Henry (King), who had been promoting his songs on stage. She was the daughter of Winchester, Virginia newspaper owner George R. Henry, and had previously been married to her manager, Joe King. The couple was based in upstate New York for a while as they toured the circuit. Trouble was reported as early as December, 1905, in the Albany Evening Journal: "Mr. and Mrs. Egbert Van Alstyne have forgotten their domestic differences and have gone South on a second honyemoon. They had separated after a quarrel and divorce proceedings had been instituted... His wife is an actress and when she heard one of her husband's new love songs she knew that he was thinking of her. That accounts for the reconciliation." Still, their union did not last very long, and the couple divorced in June 1907. The reason should be clear when it is considered that Egbert wasted no time and got married the day of or day after his second divorce, as this story from the June 29, 1907 Chicago Tribune explains: Miss Church, who gave her address as 240 Ohio street, started with Mr. Van Alstyne, two of her women friends, who said their name was Brown and Samuel Siegel at 7 o'clock in the morning. They started for Kenosha in Mr. Van Alstyne's auto, but the machine broke down a couple of miles south of Fort Sheridan. For forty-five minutes the men of the party worked in an effort to start it again. Then the bride to be became impatient. "Why Don't You Try?" "I started out to get married this morning, and we mustn't let this stop us," she announced. Then she hummed "Why Don't You Try?" which brought Mr. Van Alstyne many shekels, and the autombile was abandoned to its fate. The entire party set out on foot and walked into Fort Sheridan, where they took a train for Kenosha. But the troubles of the song writer and the reader still were far from ended. Unless you get a court order you cannot get married in Kenosha until one has given five days' notice of one's intentions. But Miss Church kept up her spirits to the tune of "Why Don't You Try?" and Judge Slosson granted the order when he heard her hard luck story. Bert wrote a few instrumental pieces from 1909 through the mid 1910s, something he rarely did during the partnership with Williams, during which the exceptional Honey Rag (1909) had appeared. Now he focused on rags in the form of dance music, and a couple of waltzes. Williams and Van Alstyne piano rolls started appearing frequently in 1907, particularly on the General Music Supply Company Standard Rolls line. Bert also cut the first set of a number of piano rolls of his music for QRS and continued playing occasional rolls into the 1920s. He then turned to lyricist Earle Jones amon others and turned out a few songs, before discovering his next long-term partner, the prolific Gustave Kahn, better known as Gus, around 1912. During the remainder of 1910s and through part of the 1920s, Van Alstyne and Kahn turned out a new set of somewhat consistent hits, around 50 songs in total, although Bert's work with Gus never reached the level of popularity as it had with Williams. Even though some of their later pieces were quite frankly jazz, Van Alstyne made it clear that he was an old-fashioned ballad writer for the most part, and disdained jazz music, publicly stating so in a 1922 symposium. He also teamed up with some other lyricists that would become better known in teams of the 1920s and 1930s. Many of his instrumental pieces, or instrumental arrangements of his songs, were handled by the well known composer and arranger of the silent movie era, J. Bodewalt Lampe. Another arranger of Bert's works was Les Copeland. Given how arrangers put their stamp on tunes as well, these could be considered indirect collaborations of the two writers in each case. Egbert joined ASCAP in 1923, nearly a decade after it was founded by many of his peers.While Van Alstyne and Kahn were still partners, Bert was promoted to the position of Chicago manager of the Remick company. Among the team's duties for Remick was to scout out new songwriting talent, or at least procure good tunes. One of these became one of the most unnecessarily controversial subjects of Bert's life, largely because of misunderstandings on multiple levels, most of which have now been cleared up thanks to the efforts of diligent Van Alstyne historian, Tracy Doyle. As it turns out, the two heard black Chicago pianist Tony Jackson, who was not the prettiest of men and openly gay to boot [Chicago was progressive in this regard], performing a ditty he had written called Pretty Baby. The melody was very charming and instantly attractive to Bert and Gus. However, since it had been written for Jackson's boyfriend, it needed some major modifications to the lyrics in order to be palatable for the Remick catalog. In addition, Van Alstyne added a verse that was adapted from a previous song he had composed. As a result, the original edition offended Jackson supporters since it gave both Kahn and Van Alstyne co-composer credit, which was just the same quite appropriate, given their considerable input into the song. This regrettable miscasting of the situation actually made some musicians hostile to Van Alstyne for most of the rest of his life, something he found to be hurtful. Never mind that subsequent stage performances of the piece made it a big hit for all of the composers, or that Jackson's name appeared above Van Alstyne's on the cover. And while many say that both the composer and his lyrics were compromised, it would be clear now that some of the original lines would have been unsuitable for mass publication. It is clear, however, that Jackson may not have got his share of royalties, having been paid $250 outright for the rights to the tune. In any case, Bert's daughter stated that this misunderstanding haunted him until his death in 1951. Another question, this time concerning Van Alstyne's originality, was highlighted in the trades in 1917. There was a suit filed over one of Egbert and Gus's tunes, which was eventually overturned in court. According to the Music Trade Review of August 11, 1917: Julius E. Andino, doing business as the Musicians' Music Publishing Co., has brought suit in the United States District Court against Jerome H. Remick & Co., Gustav Kahn and Egbert Van Alstyne, petitioning that the defendants be restrained from selling or further publishing a musical composition entitled "Memories," of which the two latter defendants are authors. The suit also asked for an accounting of receipts and profits of the composition and $8,000 damages.
Andino in his complaint alleges that in 1912 he composed a musical composition entitled "Sleepy Rose," with lyrics by Schuyler Green, and that Green had sold his rights to the song to the Musicians' Music Publishing Co. He further alleges that in October, 1915, Kahn and Van Alstyne with a knowledge of the existence of the plaintiff's composition, wrote the song entitled "Memories," which he claims is not original, but is no less the same musical composition and thought of the composer as the composition entitled "Sleepy Rose," although differently arranged and adapted. He claims that the similarity is so marked that the public find it almost impossible to distinguish between the two songs. The plaintiff also alleges that he advised Remick & Co. of his claims in November, 1916, but that the company continued selling the song.The complaint also asked that the plates and copies of the song in possession of Remick & Co. be delivered to the court until the action is determined on trial. Egbert took ill from exhaustion and other maladies in early 1917 and retreated to his farm, bought with the proceeds from In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree, to recover. He was back at work before Spring. Van Alstyne is shown on his 1918 draft registration in Chicago as a composer employed by the Majestic Theater. In the 1920 Census he lists himself as a music publisher rather than as a composer, and still living with Mabel and Egbert Jr. in Chicago.
In October 1919, Egbert announced that he resigned from Remick, and was forming his own firm. As stated in the Music Trade Review in mid November: "Some time ago The Review printed an announcement that Egbert Van Alstyne would shortly enter the music publishing field in his own behalf. He now announces the formation of the firm of Van Alstyne & Curtis, with Chicago professional offices at 117 N. State street, and with a Toledo office under the management of Loyal Curtis, his partner, in the Gardner Building, Toledo, O. Announcement of the New York headquarters will be made shortly..." It was a short-lived effort with few pieces under that imprint from 1919 to 1921. At some point in 1921 Curtis took over the company under his own name. His works with Remick continued to appear throughout the 1920s, with a couple of entries in the catalog of Sam Fox in Cleveland, Ohio. Egbert also did a vaudeville tour in the early 1920s, appearing everywhere from Indianapolis to Buffalo, where he was reportedly warmly greeted by appreciative audiences. In most instances he played his songs solo or with a trio, accompanied by a tenor, one of his popular choices being Clem Dacey. Most of these performances were in support of his Remick catalog, now that his own firm had folded. Some were heard on early radio broadcasts. Egbert's attitude on modern music was clear in occasional interviews. One published in the Daily Northwestern in Oshkosh, Wisconsin on May 25, 1927, includes the following snippets: "I don't like jazz," he says, "and I'm purely a ballad writer, for that type of song appeals to me. I don't dislike jazz, and I don't think that it will ever die out. It is just as popular today as it ever was, and there are more jazz bands throughout the country than ever before... Old songs seem to live longer than the popular jazz numbers..."
A song becomes popular over night, with the radio and jazz bands, but it is forgotten in a few months. Ballads sell much better and live much longer. 'In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree' is one of the few songs that has lived nearly 25 years. Ernest Ball's 'Mother Machree' and 'Till the Sands of the Desert Grow Cold' are my type of song. Melody writing is an art in itself. These ballad types also have the support of the music teachers and the conventions, who are always seeking the better kind of songs."It is Van Alstyne's wish that he may be able to keep on writing ballads until he is 96. "It has always been my aspiration to write ballads as long as I live," he asserts. Things changed in his life over the ensuing decade, and some details in are uncertain concerning his home life. The 1930 Census shows Egbert as a lodger, still evidently legally married, but Mabel and Egbert Jr. are not listed at the same address. Their son was in St. Louis attending college that year. Claiming a desertion that began as early as November 1920, Mabel divorced him in December 1930, receiving their 280 acre Michigan farm and other real-estate. She died in December, 1937, having not remarried. Bert, however, did remarry in 1931 to Miss Ruth Leslie, nearly three decades his junior. He had met Ruth when she was a seven year old singer in the local theaters, and had hired her to plug his songs for publishers.
Egbert had reverted back to the status of songwriter by this time, although his actual output was somewhat scant from 1925 on. There were offers for him to move to Hollywood or New York to continue his career, but he rebuffed all of them. Composing a few pieces into the 1930s, many of them for the movies, and a few of them rare collaborations with other music writers as well, Van Alstyne finally seemed to disappear from view after 1935 or so, with only piece appearing after that time. His mother received some recognition at age 85 in 1941 as the oldest working radio artist, under the name of Aunt Em, which she had done as a singer and storyteller throughout the 1930s. Egbert was "rediscovered" in the very late 1940s about the time that the country was experiencing a resurgence of nostalgia for the ragtime era given the recordings from Capitol Records and the publication of the first edition of They All Played Ragtime. Between 1947 and 1950 Egbert was the guest at many public events and on radio shows featuring his now nostalgic tunes. Ragtime performer and entrepreneur Bob Darch, who befriended composers like Van Alstyne and Percy Wenrich in their later years, recalled August 19, 1950, the day that Bert was honored at the 21st Annual Chicagoland Music Festival held at Soldier Field (following a ceremonial dinner held the previous evening). It included the display of a ceremonial apple tree from his home town of Marengo, along with many town residents in attendance, and a band played the famed Apple Tree number (which was also a fixture in a scene of The Wizard of Oz from 1939) while he rode the field in a convertible. Bob said that it brought genuine tears of joys to the old man's eyes, largely for the recognition of what he thought had been a forgotten life. Also feted that day was the well known conductor Henry Weber. The composer suffered a stroke in April, 1951 while in Miami, and was brought back to Chicago in May in an ambulance. Egbert Van Alstyne died in July and was buried in the Memorial Park Cemetery in Evanston, Illinois. He was hardly forgotten, but had not been properly recognized for his contributions either at that time. This was fixed to some degree when he was inducted into the Songwriter's Hall of Fame in 1970. His widow, Ruth, passed on in May 1971. While not all of his pieces were located for listing here, at least 340 of the 400 or more he is thought to have composed are included. I would like to add a personal note of thanks and recognition to my colleague Tracy Doyle, whose personal ties to Van Alstyne's and her love of his music have led to the most extensive look at his legacy and his life, which added to my own research on him to a high degree. Most of the remaining information was uncovered by the author in public records, periodicals, newspapers and other contemporary sources.
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Famous as both a publisher and a songwriter, Albert Von Tilzer and his brothers Harry Von Tilzer and Will Von Tilzer represent another great success story of the ragtime era, even though they more or less wrote about and promoted ragtime, never writing any actual rags. They also prove to be a bit frustrating in terms of research, since much of the information on their early lives was relayed by the brothers themselves, and matching facts before 1900 are hard to corroborate. But a find has been made here that adds some interest to the Von Tilzer story.
Given their birth dates and locations, and matching the demographics of their parents, it appears that the brothers were born to Jacob Gumbinsky (or Gummbinsky) and Sarah (Tilzer) Gumbinsky, Polish immigrants who may have actually lived in Germany before coming to the United States. In later years, Albert often put Indiana as their place of birth, and Harry and Jacob switched between Germany and Poland, which was a little more helpful. Older brother Jules lists Russia, which is even more consistent with Poland. Given that all other factors match, it is likely that Harry was born as Aaron Gumbinsky in Detroit, Michigan, as were his older brothers Louis (1870 - later Jacob or Jack) and Julius (11/1868 - later Jules). There were reportedly two other siblings, one boy and one girl, but they died very young. Between 1874 and 1877 the family moved from Detroit to Indianapolis, Indiana, where Albert was born as Elias Gumbinsky (3/29/1878), Albert possibly being a middle name. In the 1880 Census, their father Jacob is listed as a hair dresser, but later owned a shoe store, then expanded that into a general store. Sarah worked as a milliner in the store as well. He is listed in the Indianapolis directories of the 1880s as selling "furniture, stoves and tinware" at 434 S. Illinois Street. Harry's memories recall a shoe store, and this would be somewhat consistent, as shoes might be found in such a location. Younger brother Harris Harold, the eventual lawyer for the Von Tilzer brothers, was born in September 1880, followed by Wilbur (Will) in November 1882. This find means that there was a big change in their names (except H. Harold who retained Gumm) and lives following Harry's lead. It has also been said that the family changed their name to Gumm at some point, although this is more likely Harry and Albert since their father was still using Gumbinsky in the 1890s. While living in Indianapolis, Harry, Julius and Albert were exposed to the joys of stage entertainment as a local theatrical company gave performances in the loft above their father's store. Harry had also been playing piano at an early age, largely, as he recalled, with encouragement from his mother. Albert also followed in Harry's footsteps with similar musical talent. Harry was so enraptured with the lure of performance that he lived out the fantasy of many young boys and left home to join the Cole Brothers Circus in 1886 at age 14. With them he worked as a tumbler and singer, playing the calliope and piano as well. He left the circus before he was 16 to perform with traveling burlesque and vaudeville shows playing piano and writing tunes and incidental music for them. Even though he had shortened the family name to Gumm it did not suit him, and at some point in his teens he changed it to a derivative of his mother's maiden name, adding "Von" to Tilzer to make it fancier. Albert followed that example some time in the 1890s, and once the pair became famous, brothers Jules, Jacob (Jack) and Will also changed their names to Von Tilzer, although Will was published as Gumm through around 1912. With brother Harry on his way to a music career, Albert followed in his tracks to some extent, deciding to abandon high school at first to help with the family business in the shoe and merchandise store, but eventually taking his music skills out into the world. As with Harry, Albert became a musician and sometime musical director of a traveling Vaudeville troupe. This lasted for a few years, but once Harry's hit song, My Old New Hampshire Home, landed him a position as a partner with Shapiro and Bernstein in 1899, he sought out Albert, who now considered himself similarly as a Von Tilzer, to run the Chicago branch of the company. Albert had been to Chicago often, and in 1898 had a piece published there, one of many that were reactions to the sinking of the U.S.S. Maine and the brief conflict in Cuba. But now he was able to make a home, have a desk job, and perhaps consider composing more of his own pieces. As of the 1900 Census Albert was living in Chicago listed as a music composer, even with only two pieces in print, and Harry was similarly listed as a musician and composer in Manhattan.The situation in Chicago did not work out well, so Albert moved to New York and in with his brother for a time. He went back to selling shoes while waiting for a better opportunity. Harry did take in his Absent Minded Beggar Waltzes on the short-lived Shapiro, Bernstein & Von Tilzer label, which while not a great hit did give Albert some circulation in Manhattan and a moral boost. It helped him get work as a singer as well, and he was featured on the cover of the 1901 song When the Trees are Filled With Blossoms by Eddie Moran and the contrived Albert Rezlit (Tilzer spelled backwards), "Introduced and Sung by Mr. Albert Von Tilzer." He learned the art of composing from his brother and by trying several takes of his own at it until he felt the material was good enough to shop around. Something else Albert got from Harry was the fine tear-jerker lyricist Arthur J. Lamb, who provided him with the words for Tell Me That Beautiful Story early in 1902. Since Harry had just left his previous partners in an amicable move to start his own publishing house, he took Albert's piece as one of the first in what would prove to be an enormous catalog within a few years. The piece did well and showed that Albert had the same propensity for memorable melodies as his now famous brother. But Albert wasn't quite ready to commit yet, and still maintained other work while making efforts at other compositions, of which very few were published in 1902 and 1903. In 1903 Albert came up with That's What the Daisy Said published by Harry and penned with his brother Will (still Wilbur), who had recently moved to Manhattan as well. Its success plus Harry's mentorship encouraged him to set out on his own with his brother Jack who had recently moved to New York City. Together they founded the York Music Company late in the year. The origin of the name is likely derived from the city it was in (there was already a New York Music Publishing Company), and it seems reasonable that he did not use the Von Tilzer name so as to not be confused with his older brother's self-named firm. The cause of the break between the brothers is uncertain. However, it was made rather public in mid 1905 when Albert printed advertisements in the New York Clipper and other papers including the announcement, "Having severed my connections with the HARRY VON TILZER MUSIC PUB.CO., I beg to announce to all my friends that I shall be pleased to hear from them, either personally or by mail, at my new place of business." Just the same they would remain on on sometimes tenuous but otherwise friendly terms, and even share lyricists and writers for nearly the next two decades. Jack had also parted ways with his brother in late 1904, working as a business manager around Tin Pan Alley for a while, but ultimately hooking up with Albert. Albert and Jack were both listed as the manager of York Music in 1904 and 1905 in city directories. Jack's role was more on the business end of the firm while Albert created and sought out music for the catalog. In 1903, Albert got married to Caddie Neisbaum. The couple would stay together to his death, but there is no indication that they ever had children. Once he had his own outlet, Albert, in the same way as Harry, suddenly found his way and started pushing out lots of tunes, some of them hits, in collaboration with some of the finest lyricists in Manhattan and beyond. The first great success was Teasing written with Cecil Mack in 1904. Written for the stage show The School Girl, it lasted much longer than the show did, and helped make more of a name for both contributors. It was reported that he was paid the unheard of price of $2,500 for the English publishing rights in advance of publication. With his popularity on the rise and his company doing well, Albert decided to try writing for the Broadway stage, and area that his older brother had just failed in with at least two different shows. His first contribution was a number of songs for Mrs. 'Mac,' The Mayor which lasted only 8 performances, even more dismal than Harry's attempts. Still, he had another up his sleeve, and In New York Town managed 24 performances divided between 3 theaters before it was also finally shelved. At this point, Albert went back to focusing on writing hit songs for a while, and wouldn't revisit the stage for another few years.Will was also working in New York by this time, both as a musician and as an occasional lyricist, getting published in both of his brother's firms, but still under the name Wilbur U. Gumm. His income was largely derived from performance in vaudeville theaters and other places where he would accompany singers, but Will was also learning much about the business of musical publishing from his three older brothers. Harold had moved to New York this time, and equipped with a law degree was getting some work in Manhattan, soon specializing in show business law. Will was working as a manager for Harry's firm starting in 1905, touted in the trades as Von Tilzer rather than Gumm. Following another trend that brother Harry was on top of, Albert released a dance folio in 1905, a collection of some of his hit tunes without lyrics. These were useful to cabaret and vaudeville pianists as they provided necessary music for their gigs without breaking their budget. Within this folio was one of his rare instrumental numbers, Bunker Hill, originally released in 1904 as a song, which showed Albert to be more capable than Harry in this genre. While 1906 was an otherwise productive year for Von Tilzer, particularly with Lamb, there were no big hits forthcoming. However, he was working with another new partner, vaudeville performer Jack Norworth. In 1907 they penned a tribute to one of the champions of the dying genre of the minstrel show, George "Honey Boy" Evans, titled Honey Boy. It was either the piece itself or Evans' popularity that helped make it a hit, and it encouraged the pair to continue together. Albert also released a decent syncopated instrumental, Cotton, which while it didn't do quite as well as songs of that time, still added to the firm's profits. The year 1908 would prove to be another turning point for Albert as a composer, and within a decade his work would permanently be embedded in the American songbook. While he had a number of minor hits during the year, it was happenstance that helped to create his best known song, and without any particular intention other than just another day at the writing desk. Norworth, always looking for topical ideas (love and relationships always being a topical idea if nothing else was around) was on one of the new subway cars riding downtown when he spotted a poster for a baseball game held at the Polo Grounds on the Hudson river (20 years before Yankee Stadium would rise). While Norworth had never actually been to a baseball game, he did read the papers and talked to other people, so he knew the sport was popular and had enough in the way of references to concoct a lyric on a scrap of paper as he sped under the city. Offering a tweaked copy to Albert, also a baseball virgin, and the latter came up with a waltz melody in the vein of the popular Sidewalks of New York and School Days. They put Take Me Out to the Ball Game in print and ran it up the flagpole. The piece was first popularized by Jack's singer wife of the time, Nora Bayes. Within a year it had swept the city and much of the east coast, and within a couple of years virtually anybody who went to the ball park (which still did not include the composers) knew the tune. It soon became a staple as a sing-along during the seventh inning stretch, and has continued with little interruption in that regard for a century to date. It is a song that most Americans born from the 1920s on don't even remember learning it is so embedded in the fabric of the culture. In the end, it is the sheer simplicity of the game experience, rather than a story as so many other baseball songs had come up with, that propelled this to position second only to National Anthem in terms of public performance. Norworth and Von Tilzer eventually did make it to a baseball game, but not until the 1920s.The following year saw fewer songs and no real sellers. So in 1910 Albert tried to recapture the baseball standard with a follow-up, but being a story song, Back to the Bleachers for Mine did not fare so well. Just the same, Albert decided to give the stage another go, and at the end of the year had completed The Happiest Night of His Life, a sappy comedy about a man on his wedding day and night. As with his previous efforts, it proved to be unpalatable for the public, closing after 24 performances. Albert was done with the stage for the time being, as was Harry for all time. To complicate matters, business was proving difficult for York Music Company, and he was looking for a change.Albert did manage to open an office in Chicago in 1910 which was represented by his older brother Jules. A couple of pieces came out simply as published under his own name in 1910 and 1911. Then good fortune came his way again. Albert had been writing with a female friend, Junie McCree, who had worked with him on The Happiest Night of His Life and some minor hits going back as far as 1905. In 1910 they hit upon Put Your Arms Around Me Honey which soon became a stage sensation when ragged beyond its otherwise standard arrangement. In spite of this, either the strain of the stage musical failure or perhaps some other factor proved to be the end of their five year on and off collaboration. Albert is listed in the 1910 Census with Caddie living in a hotel listed as a publisher rather than as a songwriter. Will was living with his lawyer brother Harold. Both Albert and Wilbur are listed as publishers, rather than songwriters. The following year, Wilbur would be the last brother to legally change his name, choosing Will Von Tilzer over Wilbur U. Gumm. Harris Harold Gumm would not follow brothers Jack, Harry, Will or Albert in this change. In 1911 Albert came up with one relative hit, That College Rag, but was starting to wear from the business end of things. He brought Will in to York Music to work with Jack on running the company, as well as other musicians with supplying it with product. Albert's output in the period, though reduced, was still fairly significant. It saw the start of his collaboration with newly minted lyricist Lew Brown. Their initial output included pieces like That Hypnotizing Man, That's My Personality and Dapper Dan (The Ladies Man From Dixie Land), but they soon caught on with the consumer with I'm the Lonesomest Gal in Town and Parisienne. One hit and a sad sequel from 1912 consisted of Please Don't Take My Lovin' Man Away and Here Comes The Bride (The Girl Who Stole My Loving Man Away). Near the end of the year, Albert abandoned York Music, putting it in the hands of his brothers Jack and Jules. Then the writing seems to have almost stopped in 1913 through 1915, which may be attributed to a number of unknown factors in Albert's life. It was announced when he left York Music that he would endeavor to be a "producer of vaudeville acts," but there is no evidence of any success in this field. Albert and his brother Harry were charter members of ASCAP, formed in 1914. Possibly looking for a change of some kind, Albert merged York Music in 1914 with the recently formed Broadway Music Corporation, started by Will Von Tilzer who had left the shadow of their brother Harry in 1913. Some of the output at that time consisted of reprints of York Music stock, but new pieces soon started flowing forth from Albert and other composers who were recruited for the new label. Albert had little trouble finding lyrics, as both wannabe lyricists and composers constantly flooded Tin Pan Alley publishers with new material either by mail or in person. Adding melody to some of these submissions, Albert was able to augment his output and help bring some new names into the spotlight as well. One of these songs was soon brought to hit status by singer Al Jolson, who kept Down Where the Swanee River Flow in his repertoire for many years until some of the 1920s songs that caught his fancy replaced it.Then came what could have been an interruption, but for songwriters was a boon. World War I, while it took many of the men away to fight in Europe, seemed to have been kind to publishers as they had a lot to write about, a lot to publish, and a lot of consumers to justify the effort. Albert was no slouch in this regard, and Broadway Music published a good number of his war pieces, including I May Be Gone For A Long, Long Time, the post-war sequel I May Stay Away a Little Longer, and When the Sun Goes Down in Flanders. The most famous of these was Au Revoir, But Not Good-Bye (Soldier Boy), although none of them matched the popularity of George M. Cohan's Over There or Irving Berlin's many songs written for the boys in Europe. On his draft record Albert is now shown working with ArtMusic, run largely by Will and Jules. Albert and his colleagues did not need to worry about what to write about after the was since the next war would be waged by supporters of the Volstead Act and the onset of national prohibition. One of a pair of blues he composed with Edward Laska was The Alcoholic Blues in 1919, but another surprisingly positive comic song was I Never Knew I Had a Wonderful Wife (Until the Town Went Dry). With yet another frequent partner, Neville Fleeson, Albert wrote Dear Old Daddy-Long-Legs which saw brisk sales for a few years. But it was with Brown that another mega-hit emerged, Oh By Jingo! (Oh By Gee, You're the Only Girl For Me), which quickly became a favorite in Vaudeville. Albert appears in the 1920 Census as a composer, now in his own home with Caddie. Burned three times, Albert nonetheless believed he could still make it big on Broadway with a musical. Urged on by the growing number of theaters and the successes of Ziegfeld and Berlin, he and Fleeson first worked on What's the Odds in 1919, which did not make it very far. Albert next penned Honey Girl with Fleeson and Edward Clark in 1920. This one finally hit the mark and gave him a success his brother Harry was not able to capture, running initially for 32 performances at the Cohan theater, followed by another 110 a few blocks away. That same year saw yet another standard that would require twenty years to fully catch on, but still was well regarded when it came out, Included at some point in Honey Girl but sold separately from the pieces included in the score, I'll Be With You in Apple Blossom Time was a charming waltz song that blossomed into a 4/4 swing hit in the 1940s. From 1920 on, however, Albert's melodies tended less towards current song styles and more to the sentimental or ragtime styles of previous decades, and no more big hits were coming. Jules Von Tilzer also made it into the news as Albert was testing the Broadway waters again. He was allegedly stabbed by his wife, Estelle, as he lay sleeping one night in late February 1920. Estelle's story was a bit different. She had reacted to a telephone call from a mysterious woman who alerted her that Jules had been fooling around with another woman for some three years. When confronted with that news, the 225 pound Jules denied the allegation and reportedly jumped out of bed. The 90 pound Estelle grabbed a knife in self defense. Neither of them seemed to be able to recall how the knife entered his body. It was not favorable publicity for the other Von Tilzers, Harry in particular, who was also mentioned in the articles on the incident as being the brother of Jules. In December, 1921, Albert opened his own publishing business with Fleeson. It is not known if there was any disagreement with Will that might have spurred this action, or if it was simply a branching of the Von Tilzer publishing empire. An announcement in The Music Trade Review of December 3, 1921, read: "Albert Von Tilzer, one of the best known of present-day popular composers, and Neville Fleeson, his writing partner, who for many years were on the staff of the Broadway Music Corp., have severed their connections with that company. Albert Von Tilzer has entered the ranks of the publishers under his own name, with offices at 1591 Broadway." The Albert Von Tilzer Publishing Company was short-lived, however. In an announcement published in September 1922, Albert noted that he had "been liquidating his business with a view to engaging practically exclusively in the writing of vaudeville sketches and acts. Such songs as Mr. Von Tilzer may write in the future will be offered to publishers on a free-lance basis." Albert and Neville ended up selling the assets to their distributor, Jacob Mittenthal, Incorporated. Encouraged by his recent success on Broadway, he wrote The Gingham Girl in late 1922 with Fleeson, and it ran nearly a year at 322 performances. Wary of jumping the gun lest it close early, the songs were not published until early 1923. That same year would see Adrienne make it to the stage, this one with future partner and lyric writing veteran A. Seymour Brown. It lasted around eight months at 235 performances. Harry Von Tilzer's firm went into receivership for a while in 1922, but he would emerge over the next few years in fairly good shape. Broadway Music similarly suffered a bankruptcy in late 1922, but was discharged from it in early 1923 offering a 25% settlement with creditors based on the promised of a successful reorganization. In this way, Will kept Broadway Music going at a brisk pace into the mid-1920s and the reorganized company kept its promise, coming out of the predicament even stronger. In 1927 he launched an unusual campaign for a particular song, and in an article in The Music Trade Review of October 22, 1927, some of his past advertising innovations were also featured: "Now that the series of mysterious advertisements pertaining to the new fox-trot ballad, 'Make My Cot Where the Cot-Cot-Cotton Grows,' has been concluded and the secret has been revealed that Will Von Tilzer, president of the Broadway Music Corp., New York, is backing the number as publisher, some interesting facts concerning the whole episode have come out... The stunt of using 'blind' advertisements in the trade papers to introduce the number was characteristic of Will Von Tilzer and brings to mind some of his doings in the exploitation field in the past. He was the first music publisher to use a reversed plate for advertising songs to the trade and professional public... Mr. Von Tilzer was also the first publisher to buy an entire page for songs and use not more than an inch of it in the center, leaving the rest white. Albert Von Tilzer's last stage musical would be Bye Bye Bonnie in 1927, written with Fleeson. After 125 performances it closed his career as a writer of stage musicals. His career as a songwriter in New York was also winding down. There was one more unproduced play, a musical extravagance that may have been intended for younger audiences, based on the story of Little Red Riding Hood. Fragments of this still exist in an archived collection. Even though Von Tilzer and Brown had composed a couple of pieces before, they formally announced a new partnership in 1928, starting with the campaign pice He's Our Al in support of Democratic Presidential candidate Al Smith. In spite of a months long push by Will in promoting the song, Smith eventually lost the election and the piece was all but forgotten in short order. Soon after there was a folio of his works released by Broadway Music, Famous Songs of the Past, which contained many of what were by now considered his "old-time" songs. The folio quickly became a best-seller for the company. Seeing opportunity in 1929 as the sound film The Jazz Singer started spawning musicals in the movies, Albert left his brothers behind in New York City and relocated to Los Angeles where he and Caddie would stay the rest of their lives. Work was sporadic in the beginning, but he is still listed as a composer in the 1930 Census. Writing in this period largely with George Whiting, Harry MacPherson and Ted Fiorito, Albert did manage to get some songs placed in musicals or music-oriented movies. His most prominent contributions appear in the ironically titled Rainbow Over Broadway in 1933 and Here Comes the Band in 1935, and MGM film featuring Virginia Bruce and bandleader Ted Lewis with his orchestra. After his, Albert only came up with the occasional melody, including an interesting set of cowboy tunes for stock Westerns written with MacPherson in 1938. He also co-wrote brother Harry's final contribution, Sierra Moonlight, in 1943. As of 1942, Will was still shown heading Broadway Music in New York. He died of a heart attack in his car, driven by his wife Blanche at that time, on the Cross County Parkway. Harry died in 1946. His oldest brother, Jules, passed on in October, 1954. After having been retired for many years, Albert finally passed on in 1956 in Beverly Hills, California. He and Harry were both inducted into the Songwriter's Hall of Fame in 1970. The final years of the lives of Will, Jack and Harold have been hard to piece together, but hopefully additional research will bring closure to their stories, and help to codify their significant roles in American music. | ||||||
Famous as both a publisher and a songwriter, Harry Von Tilzer and his brothers Albert Von Tilzer and Will Von Tilzer represent another great success story of the ragtime era, even though they more or less wrote about and promoted ragtime, never writing any actual rags. They also prove to be a bit frustrating in terms of research, since much of the information on their early lives was relayed by the brothers themselves, and matching facts before 1900 are hard to corroborate. But a find has been made here that adds some interest to the Von Tilzer story.
Early Years
Given their birth dates and locations, and matching the demographics of their parents, it appears that the brothers were born to Jacob Gumbinsky (or Gummbinsky) and Sarah (Tilzer) Gumbinsky, Polish immigrants who may have actually lived in Germany before coming to the United States. In later years, Albert often put Indiana as their place of birth, and Harry and Jacob switched between Germany and Poland, which was a little more helpful. Older brother Jules lists Russia, which is even more consistent with Poland. Given that all other factors match, it is likely that Harry was born as Aaron Gumbinsky in Detroit, Michigan, as were his older brothers Louis (1870 - later Jacob or Jack) and Julius (11/1868 - later Jules). There were reportedly two other siblings, one boy and one girl, but they died very young.
Between 1874 and 1877 the family moved from Detroit to Indianapolis, Indiana, where Albert was born as Elias Gumbinsky (3/29/1878), Albert possibly being a middle name. In the 1880 Census, their father Jacob is listed as a hair dresser, but later owned a shoe store, then expanded that into a general store. Sarah worked as a milliner in the store as well. He is listed in the Indianapolis directories of the 1880s as selling "furniture, stoves and tinware" at 434 S. Illinois Street. Harry's memories recall a shoe store, and this would be somewhat consistent, as shoes might be found in such a location. Younger brother Harris Harold, the eventual lawyer for the Von Tilzer brothers, was born in September 1880, followed by Wilbur (Will) in November 1882. This find means that there was a big change in their names (except H. Harold who retained Gumm) and lives following Harry's lead. It has also been said that the family changed their name to Gumm at some point, although this is more likely Harry and Albert since their father was still using Gumbinsky in the 1890s.While living in Indianapolis, Harry, Julius and Albert were exposed to the joys of stage entertainment as a local theatrical company gave performances in the loft above their father's store. Harry had also been playing piano at an early age, largely, as he recalled, with encouragement from his mother. Albert also followed in Harry's footsteps with similar musical talent. Harry was so enraptured with the lure of performance that he lived out the fantasy of many young boys and left home to join the Cole Brothers Circus in 1886 at age 14. With them he worked as a tumbler and singer, playing the calliope and piano as well. He left the circus before he was 16 to perform with traveling Burlesque and Vaudeville shows playing piano and writing tunes and incidental music for them. Some of the tunes were evidently sold outright to the entertainers, and he received no credit for them. Harry also acted on stage from time to time, an experience that would be useful to him when plugging his songs in later years. Even though he had shortened the family name to Gumm it did not suit him, and at some point in his teens he changed it to a derivative of his mother's maiden name, adding "Von" to Tilzer to make it fancier. His brother Albert followed that example some time in the 1890s, and once the pair became famous, brothers Jules, Jacob (Jack) and Will also changed their names to Von Tilzer, although Will was published as Gumm through around 1912. After a few years on the road, and with many songs under his belt, Harry finally had one published. Titled I Love You Both it did not fare too well, and he earned practically nothing from it. Still, popular vaudevillian performer Lottie Gilson encouraged him and let him know that his talents were viable. At her prompting Harry moved permanently to New York City at age 20, with just $1.65 in his pocket, and started playing in a local saloons for an average of $15.00 per week. He hit the road again for a short time with a traveling medicine show, but again landed in New York, working in saloons and as a Vaudeville accompanist and singer. He kept writing songs, but they were again sold outright to entertainers, usually for $2.00 each. Some were reportedly even bought by famous theater owner Tony Pastor for his shows, but no credit was given to Harry, a common practice of that time. He worked for a time with entertainer George Sidney doing what is described as "Dutch" comedy act. The Big Breaks
In 1896 Harry met another songwriter, Andrew B. Sterling. They ended up rooming together in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge, and started collaborating on songs.
They were able to sell a couple of their early ethnic efforts to publishers, including I've Scratched You Off Ma' List to E.T. Paull in 1897, shortly after he set up business there. I'll Be a Sister to You and My Pretty Polly were also published by Paull in 1898. But no hits were forthcoming. It was the threat of eviction in 1898 that pushed the pair to quickly compose My Old New Hampshire Home and take it around to publishers. After more rejections, it was finally purchased by William Dunn of the Orphean Music Company for $5.00 in advance, and a final sale of an additional $10.00. The song ended up selling over two million copies in the next decade, which would have made the publisher wealthy, but not the writers, another common story of that time. A recording of the piece that same year also became quickly popular. Still, the brisk sales of the piece encouraged Harry and Andrew to keep plugging away. Another fortuitous circumstance also gave him a break, and shifted the income from this song back in his direction.A few months after the sale of My Old New Hampshire Home and a few other pieces to other New York publishers, the Orphean catalog was purchased by Maruice Shapiro and Louis Bernstein, incorporated into their firm of Shapiro and Bernstein, Co., which exists still into the 21st century in spite of a number of changes in its lifetime. One of those changes involved seeing the potential of Von Tilzer as both a composer and recognizable name. His Vaudeville reputation also preceded him, giving Harry more salability. So after convincing him to quit the stage and hiring him as a staff composer they offered Von Tilzer and Sterling a considerable royalty of $4,000 on the piece they had sold for $15. In order to keep Von Tilzer around writing more hits, and they saw that more were coming, they also put him on the banner as a partner in the firm. Harry and Andrew did not disappoint, and soon came up with I'd Leave Ma Happy Home For You in 1899, a Vaudeville sensation. Other songs with their names also sold well. However, Harry branched out and tried out some lyrics given to him by another rising star, Arthur J. Lamb, who was more of sentimental ballad writer than a comic one. In 1900, it was clear that A Bird in a Gilded Cage would be a lasting maudlin tear jerker. The ballad of a woman held prisoner by her choice to marry for money, it was Harry that insisted on the girl actually being married to the old man instead of just a kept woman living in sin, a wise decision given the moral climate of the time. When working out the melody at a party, some of the girls within earshot heard the revised lyrics and were driven to tears, giving Harry a clue that Lamb had workable talent. They would write many other "tear jerkers" together over the next several years.Another bonus for the family, Harry's brother Albert was hired as a manager in the Chicago branch of Shapiro, Bernstein and Von Tilzer. As of the 1900 Census Harry was listed as a musician and composer, and Albert was in Chicago similarly listed as a music composer. Soon after that, Albert left the Chicago position for New York where he went back to selling shoes for a short time. Harry gave his brother a boost by publishing Albert's Absent-Minded Beggar Waltzes, which while not a great hit did give Albert some circulation in Manhattan and a moral boost. With his new found spending money, Harry started to take up hobbys, among them being harness racing. As noted in The Music Trade Review of June 1, 1901: "Harry Von Tilzer has had several smart brushes on the Speedway with his 2.10 trotter, and generally holds his own. He is an expert driver and it is to be expected that he will become quite a light in the trotting world." In league with Lamb and Sterling, Harry managed to turn out a number of successful tearjerkers and popular tunes over the next two years. He also was one of the first to produce a dance folio, a book that consisted of instrumental arrangements of popular songs. These were a blessing to pianists everywhere who did not need the words as much as they did the music, and the cost of a folio was considerably less than that of the 40 or so individual tunes contained within. What soon became clear, if not to Harry but to others, is that he was great at creating memorable melodies for lyrics of all varieties, but not so much at plain old instrumentals like marches, and certainly not rags. A handful of his songs were packaged as instrumentals as well, but the songs generally sold better in spite of their being more simply scored. In any case, he was grateful to his partners for the opportunity they had provided, but frustrated as well since he wanted more control over the end product, and more profit as well. To that end, he took his wealth of short term experience as a partner in a publishing firm, and at the beginning of 1902 created his own company under his own name, the Harry Von Tilzer Music Company. The parting of ways was reportedly amicable as Von Tilzer was glad for the start they had given him. Moving Forward - And Backwards
The evidence that having his own company to put out his product was a beneficial move is in the number of tunes that suddenly sprang forth from Harry and his lyricists in 1902, nearly five times that in 1901.
Some of his other new tunes may have been holdovers from the previous year as well. To boost his new catalog he also purchased the catalog of Mullen & Cain of Worcester, Massachusetts, who were leaving the business. One of Harry's new partners was Vincent Bryan who proved himself quite capable with many composers over the next 20 years. Bryan and Von Tilzer came up with Down Where the Wurzberger Flow, a love song to beer in some respects, which saw popularity through singer Nora Bayes. He would follow this up with the clever Under the Anheuser Bush with Sterling.Other partners included George Totten Smith and Eddie Moran who would write for many years with Harry. Lamb continued to provide him with the sad and maudlin ballads, and Harry complied with more stirring melodies such as The Banquet in Misery Hall and The Mansion of Aching Hearts, one of the songs Irving Berlin was hired to promote while still a few years off from being a composer in his own right. So he had a variety of lyric types to choose from. The firm expanded quickly, and two months after forming he moved to a large headquarters at 42 West 28th Street, two doors down from one of the publishers that helped him get his footing, E.T. Paull. Hoping to help with the delegation of authority within his new company, Harry sent for his brother Albert in Chicago, who became a manager for a couple of years before moving off into his own firm. In order to get his firm known, just as much as his compositions, Harry was active in pursuing new writers, new sellers, and the public. One of his most famous promotional stunts underscores his technique, as noted in an unsigned but obvious article that he placed in a newspaper. He was trying to sell what he was sure would be a hit, even though it was not his own composition. In full cooperation of the management, who likely got a cut of lobby sales, Von Tilzer himself posed as an audience member at a rooftop garden theater. He kept "falling asleep" and snoring loudly, creating disruption. His wife, who was not in on the gag, was quite embarrassed, and kept kicking him "awake" under the table. After a little time passed and many complaints were forwarded to the management, a waiter came to the table to remove the disruptive faker. As he was literally dragged to the elevator Von Tilzer, who had started his career as a singer, lit into the chorus: "Please go 'way and let me sleep, don't disturb my slumber deep." On cue, the female singer on the stage continued the song with the orchestra, and the audience erupted into favorable laughter having been taken for a ride by the former stage actor and singer. But more importantly, that evening and the next day, copies of the piece all but disappeared in exchange for their mad money. It also became a Vaudeville standard, used for comic effect for sleeping actors or audience plants. Black composers James Tim Brymn and Richard C. McPherson certainly gained notoriety from their generous benefactor. His success in plugging such songs was enough that Harry was able to buy his own building at 27 West 28th Street in early 1903. Harry soon found another area that in spite of his considerable talent was not a good fit. That was Broadway. Having evolved from Vaudeville and more legitimate theater, Broadway shows usually consisted of a hybrid of some semblance of a play mixed with some semblance of popular songs - often in no way related to the plot, but thrown in just the same to create a musical experience. This was different from the trend of operettas, or light popular opera, such as those of Victor Herbert. George M. Cohan was gaining much success in 1903-1904 with his musical plays, and others were trying to find their way. Von Tilzer tried, but ultimately lost his way. Some of his pieces had already been interpolated into shows, so it seemed easy. Plot was not so easy, however, and may have been the downfall of his early attempts.One early effort composed with Sterling was titled Tiddle-De-Winks which did not even make it out of Boston after its premiere in late 1902. The next was The Fisher Maiden, composed with Lamb, which debuted and died in just one month in 1903, lasting only 34 performances, and losing around $40,000. As had been hinted at when the show closed, late in 1904 a retooled version of the same play variously titled The Miller's Daughter or The Jolly Baron, with additional songs composed with Addison Burkhardt and Aaron Hoffman tried to revive the story. It was only half as successful, going for a mere 16 performances before shutting down forever. Another short lived effort that didn't even make it to Broadway was Heigh Ho in 1905. It would be several years before Von Tilzer would attempt to stage something again. With his health failing from the stress, Harry retreated to Bermuda for several weeks to recover in early 1905. Going back to song writing and publishing, Harry managed to turn out hits both by himself and other composers, and was soon one of the top firms in Tin Pan Alley and Manhattan, eventually rivaled by Jerome H. Remick, Ted Snyder and Irving Berlin in the popular music field. His own hits included the comic Alexander, Don't You Love Your Baby No More?, Hannah Won't You Open the Door, Wait Till the Sun Shines, Nellie, and the catchy and soon ubiquitous Rufus Rastus Johnson Brown, What You Goin' To Do When The Rent Comes 'Round?. Alexander eventually served as a bit of a prototype for Berlin's Alexander's Ragtime Band several years later. As with some of his earliest pieces, many of these were "coon" songs, but refined to be less offensive than the previous offerings, allowing a more genteel sector of public to perform them with fewer reservations about the content. He also continued to plant himself or some of his hired promoters in public venues to promote the latest wannabe hits with help from the management (likely including a cut for them). Von Tilzer soon had hired promoter Ben Bornstein who became the firms professional manager for nearly two decades. Harry has also been regarded as one of the originators of the system of song plugging, placing pieces in shows and making sure of surprise public performances. There is a legend, one that has been hard to substantiate as absolute fact, that Harry was in part responsible for the very name "Tin Pan Alley." According to writer Monroe Rosenfeld, he had visited Von Tilzer's office and heard his piano, which allegedly had sheets of paper or the like in the strings, giving it a tinny sound. Harry's pianos, combined collectively with those of the other publishing firms lining 28th Street between Broadway and Fifth Avenue, combined to make a clattering like the cacophony of tin pans being beat on. Thus Rosenfeld coined the phrase and it quickly became popular, but its true origin is lost to legend. By this time, Albert had left the firm to manage the York Music Company. The cause of the break between the brothers is uncertain. However, it was made rather public in mid 1905 when Albert printed advertisements in the New York Clipper and other papers including the announcement, "Having severed my connections with the HARRY VON TILZER MUSIC PUB.CO., I beg to announce to all my friends that I shall be pleased to hear from them, either personally or by mail, at my new place of business." Just the same they would remain on on sometimes tenuous but otherwise friendly terms, and even share lyricists and writers for nearly the next two decades. Jack had also parted ways with his brother in late 1904, working as a business manager around Tin Pan Alley for a while, but ultimately hooking up with Albert. In 1906, Harry married his New York born wife Ida Rosenberg, also of German/Polish parents. She had been previously married and subsequently widowed, left with a substantial fortune. Ida brought her daughter along with her into Harry's home.Harry's songs started to make the rounds internationally, and one of them was even readily adaptable for other continents. Take Me Back to New York Town was also heard as Take Me Back to London Town in England and Take Me Back to Melbourne Town in Australia. In March 1905 Harry ventured to Europe and England for several months to secure arrangements for overseas distributions through his former partner Maurice Shapiro. Most of his writing with Lamb had ceased by this time, as the lyricist started working more with Albert Von Tilzer. His primary partner from 1906 to 1909 was Vincent Bryan, although he was doing some work also with Will Dillon and Jack Mahoney, also writing partners with Albert. As a publisher, he had the ignomious distinction of having rebuffed the pleas of Max Brooks, who had come to Harry on behalf of his young singing waiter friend Irving Berlin, to give the immigrant composer a chance at a position writing or at least promoting songs. How different his firm might have been with Berlin on board. One of Harry's enduring hits of 1909 with Bryan was The Cubanola Glide, an easy dance tune that succeeded in both song and instrumental form. His single tune with Jimmy Lucas, I Love I Love I Love My Wife (But Oh! You Kid!), once again proved his capabilities as both writer and promoter. Now having followed the general migration of publishers from 28th Street to the Broadway district, moving to 125 West 43rd Street near the heart of the Broadway district, Harry made one more attempt at staging a Broadway show in 1909 with The Kissing Girl. As with the other four, the curtain fell on it with a thud in short order, and he backed down from further attempts. The publisher is shown in the 1910 Census as residing at the Hotel Carlton with Ida, listed first and foremost as a music composer rather than as a boss. Boom Time and Down Time
As the 1910s started, 28th Street had been all but abandoned by the bulk of publishers that had populated that storied street for over a decade. Von Tilzer now occupied a four story building that nearly backed up to that of fellow publisher E.T. Paull on 42nd Street. He had it remodeled to handle a growing staff, including a grand store at street level. The professional department, charged with promoting songs to the industry, also expanded to nearly an entire floor. His brother, Will, was still working for him during the move. He would leave the firm in early 1913 to form the Broadway Music Company. However, before that time Will proved some of his business acumen that such an asset to Harry in an article in the Music Trade Review on November 4, 1911, concerning the spending of money on songs:
More money is squandered in the popular music publishing field than in any other well established line in existence.
It is a well known fact to people at all familiar with the music publishing business, that there are great money making possibilities in the possession of what is called a "hit," but how many publishers really make money when they get a hit? Not many. The majority turn right around and sink the profits from a successful number into a hoped-for hit.The great mistake made almost invariably, is to invest money as well as energy in a bad number, thinking it to be the combination that turns out a so-called hit. If you have watched the business closely, you will have observed (if you are honest with yourself) that successful numbers during the past number of years, were hits before they were published. In other words, they possessed unusual merit in themselves and would have been just as successful if plenty of energy had been used and if the money had not been so much in evidence. To verify the above, the writer wishes to quote as examples the following songs published within the past two or three years : "The Cubanola Glide," "Don't Take Me Home," "I Remember You," "I Love My Wife, but Oh You Kid," "Under the Yum Yum Tree," "I Love It," "Lovie Joe," "All Alone," and many other numbers of lesser size. "All Aboard for Blanket Bay," our present big ballad hit is taking twice as long to make as it would if we squandered money on it. But how do we benefit by exercising judgment and patience? The answer is that it will live twice as long and when we balance our books in the end, we will find that we have made money, not lost it! "Blanket Bay" has been out since the first of January, 1911. To-day it is bigger with both the profession and the trade than ever before, and it is going along at a rate that is astonishing. "I Want a Girl Just Like the Girl that Married Dear Old Dad," a song we published hardly three months ago, is already acknowledged by everyone, including competitors, to be the most promising song of the year. "They Always Pick on Me," and "Knock Wood" will also be called hits before the season is many months older. We have had more real hits in the past three years than ever before. What is more important, we have made more money. The last statement takes on extra weight when you consider the small margin of profit to-day. Merit always wins out. The hits came out of the house of Von Tilzer in increasing quantities during the 1910s, including many from Harry himself. After some time apart, Sterling came back into the fold and contributed once again to some memorable tunes. Their first was the lovely sleepy little child tune All Aboard For Blanket Bay. It was with Dillon that he came up with another unforgettable hit that has lasted a century to date, I Want a Girl (Just Like the Girl that Married Dear Old Dad), and another that still exists in thousands of copies that live in piano benches around the country, All Alone. The former was one of the firms best sellers of 1912, contributing to record sales on January 2 of that year. The latter was a great boon for the telephone, suggesting phone romances and perhaps hinting at more in a not-too-subtle suggestive manner.
Even good publishers and good managers can sometimes make poor decisions of the moment. Such had already been done with Irving Berlin. But Harry also nearly nixed one of the most enduring songs of the century, which was fortunately saved by alcohol. Joseph McCarthy and James V. Monaco had written some tunes together, and brought a ragtime one step to Von Tilzer which he subsequently rejected. One of the firms's song pluggers, Nemo Roth, was a friend of the composers. While it was his job to promote Von Tilzer tunes at events like dance contests, he sometimes knew enough to take a chance. Roth was at a Brooklyn dance event one evening prepared to sing Am I In Love, but Monaco and McCarthy asked if he would try their tune instead. The singer had been downing large quantities of beer that evening, and by the time he got up to perform his pace had slowed considerably. As a result, he had to sing the piece You Made Me Love You at a much slower pace, instantly (if accidentally) transforming a ragtime song into a tear-jerker of a ballad. Even though Harry, who was present, was clearly irritated by the substitution, by the end of the performance he acknowledged that was a tune with great possibilities. The following week he presented it to his friend Al Jolson at the Winter Garden Theater, and after its performance the singer was called back to stage over a dozen times. Ironically, it was Will who ended up publishing the piece under his Broadway Music imprint.With Sterling he created a musical monster with The Ragtime Goblin Man in 1912. Lots of ballads flowed from the team of Von Tilzer and Sterling in 1913, with the biggest being When It's Cotton Blossom Time (Sweet Rosalie). In 1914 Harry and his firm capitalized on the Tango craze, hitting it from several angles. They also covered all of the dances being made popular by the team of Vernon and Irene Castle with their fast-selling You Can Tango You Can Trot Dear But Be Sure And Hesitate, the last part referring to a popular waltz form of the time. This same year, Harry and his brother Albert became charters member of the newly formed American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP), an important organization that continues to protect the rights of the music business into the 21st century. Having been published for some 20 years by the mid 1910s, and having been in business for well over a decade, Harry began to slow, but certainly not halt his writing activities, concentrating more on the business end for a while as the sheet music market became more competitive. He still performed his songs on a semi-regular basis in vaudeville houses around the East, mostly in New York City, and sometimes as a headliner on the Keith circuit. These even included performances at the famed Palace Theater, the top vaudeville house in the country. Van Tilzer's ego and instinct both seemed to be intact, as noted in his own words published in January, 1915: "The public wants pictures and problems of everyday life. It wants simplicity. The old-style melodrama was loaded with ideas. It was a kaleidoscope of scenes and situations. A play should contain but one or two good ideas worked out with truth and logic. The time has passed when the public wants a sop thrown to it. It does not demand a happy ending so that it may go home and sleep in peace. The public is willing to think nowadays. The ethics of the drama are undergoing change, as is everything else. If I haven't learned the public taste in twenty-five years of song writing, music publishing, story building, acting, journalism, traveling, studying human nature , all the things I've done and all the things I've seen, then nobody'll ever learn it. I believe I can pick winners. I've certainly picked one, and I've got another up my sleeve. A million's waiting for the man who picks the winning play." In 1916 the firm picked up and moved north to an even larger building at 222 West 46th Street, where many other publishers had relocated as well. Harry picked up a couple of new prolific partners, who with Sterling would help him through World War One and into the twenties. They were Garfield Kilgour and the clever Lou Klein. While the war was actually easy to conquer musically, as patriotic songs about "our boys" sold no matter what, he had another obstacle faced by many older ragtime-era musicians and composers, the onslaught of jazz in 1917. Even though Von Tilzer was a charter member of ASCAP, he became frustrated with that organization within three years, and made news when he resigned from in in October, 1917. According to the New York Clipper of October 31, he said, "I do not feel that the society will ever do me any good. It may be a wonderful thing for some publishers, but as far as I am concerned, I believe that by the time the various officials and staff of the organization are paid there will be nothing left for me. I am essentially a publisher of popular music, and I feel that it is absolutely necessary that my compositions be featured in every place where music is performed, and I believe that if the director of an orchestra pays the price of the published orchestration, that is all I can really expect... So you see that while I am receiving nothing from the society, I am losing business by remaining in it, which is the reason I have decided to resign." In later years Harry was readmitted once he found that the system was working much better. Just prior to this Von Tilzer publicly celebrated the 25th anniversary of his sole 1892 composition, expanding the theme by claiming to have been fully engaged in the business for a quarter century, in spite of his earlier thin output.As the war business wound down in 1919 the output from the Von Tilzer company started to look depleted as well. They moved once again, this time to 1658 Broadway, not far from the 46th Street address. Sterling still made some bold contributions to the team and to the company, but by this time they were just writing new songs that sounded old in many cases. However, he did manage one more substantial hit for Sophie Tucker, Old King Tut, playing upon the popularity of the recently discovered boy king's tomb. Harry also tried for Broadway again, this time composing the musical Mad Love with Frances Nordstrom. It never made it far beyond the manuscript stage, and was never produced, even though there were plans for it around the Christmas holidays in 1919. Several contracts remain between Nordstrom and Von Tilzer with producer Lew Fields through 1920, but no production is known to have taken place. A judgment was levied against Harry in 1920 in favor of actress Jean Newcomb, possibly for non-payment of salary. During his appeal with the New York Supreme Court, Harry revealed that his salary was only $25 per week from his company, and that it was his only source of income, so he was unable to pay the $3,173 judgment. He made it clear that his wife, Ida, owned the stock that had formerly belonged to him. When questioned about a statement he had made that he "had been very fortunate financially," Von Tilzer clarified that it was his firm that had been fortunate, but that he was still relatively financially bereft. This was a questionable convenience, but one that held up just the same, resulting in a reduced judgment. Jules Von Tilzer also made it into the news around that same time. He was allegedly stabbed by his wife, Estelle, as he lay sleeping one night in late February 1920. Estelle's story was a bit different. She had reacted to a telephone call from a mysterious woman who alerted her that Jules had been fooling around with another woman for some three years. When confronted with that news, the 225 pound Jules denied the allegation and reportedly jumped out of bed. The 90 pound Estelle grabbed a knife in self defense. Neither of them seemed to be able to recall how the knife entered his body. It was not favorable publicity for Harry, who was also mentioned in the articles on the incident as being the brother of Jules. To compound things, his long time professional manager, Ben Bornstein, left the firm in 1922. However, he did add composer Ted Barron to the staff that same month. Late in 1922 Von Tilzer was offered another stint in vaudeville as a feature performer. He went back on the road only briefly, but by 1923, Harry was all but retired. His company went into receivership and was downsized, moving this time to 719 Seventh Avenue. The bankruptcy notices cited liabilities of $35,863, with unbalanced assets of only $3,902. Among the creditors were the print jobber Robert Teller & Son & Dorner for a whopping $12,113, former manager Ben Bornstein for $3,000, and his brother Will for $1,000. However, amends were made and Von Tilzer had reorganized by the end of the year, moving again to moderately larger quarters at 1587 Broadway. After partially disappearing from view for a while, the old performer in Harry decided to try and make a mark again. In the summer of 1929 he dusted off an old plot, Heigh Ho, and fit new songs into it. The revived musical opened in Asbury Park, New Jersey on August 19, with a promise of opening at the Royale in Manhattan three weeks later. Sadly, in spite enthusiastic reports from the trade, it died in New Jersey, and Harry was done with Broadway for good.Harry appears with Ida in both the 1920 and 1930 Census records, living in Manhattan, both times listed as a composer and music publisher. The couple also had a home in Freeport on Long Island where they were spending more time. Ida Von Tilzer died in Freeport, Long Island on September 25, 1930 after a five month illness. He became a little crustier in his attitude after this, and in the early 1930s commented on contemporary composers and the consumers, saying that "all people like today are mush love songs that don't have much story to them." He then referred back to such songs as Wait Till the Sun Shines Nellie and When the Harvest Days are Over, Jessie Dear, which had a story line to them. A later article in the Christian Science Monitor in 1946 had a markedly different take on trends, with the author claiming that "Tin Pan Alley... never turned out very good music, and its lyrics were usually over-sentimental. But the product of such song writers as Gus Edwards, Charles K. Harris and Harry Von Tilzer was usually wholesome and singable stuff." The Von Tilzer firm continued on into the 1930s, and publishing was still somewhat of a family business. Albert, still actively composing, had long since run through the life of his York Music Company with Jack. Broadway Music Publishing Company run by Will was still going strong, and brother H. Harold Gumm was acting as an attorney for all of the brothers as the need arose. There was a spurt of songs composed in 1935 with Moran, potentially intended for use in motion pictures, but nothing definitive has surfaced on this. In June 1937 Harry was involved in an automobile crash, hitting another car and then a tree. He received severe head injuries that kept him from his duties for a few weeks as he recovered. Once he returned to work it was clear that his pace had slowed down a bit. The Ragtime Goblin Man came back in 1941 with Von Tilzer and Sterling's unsuccessful The Swing-Time Boogie-Boo Man. Harry wrote one last piece, this time with his brother Albert, in 1943, Sierra Moonlight, then faded away into the woodwork as his firm was sold off. Harry Von Tilzer spent the last years of his life at the Hotel Woodward in Manhattan, finally passing on in early 1946. But he will not and cannot be forgotten as his work remains a part of the fabric of popular song in the United States, and even the world. The catalog floundered for a while, but was purchased from the heirs by bandleader Lawrence Welk in 1958. He saw to it that many of the great Von Tilzer tunes were not only featured on his weekly television show and concert tours, that that they were once again available in print. Von Tilzer didn't have the biggest hits or the most quantity, but he helped originate some of the paradigms of the business, and certainly made it competitive in a healthy sense for many decades. In 1970 Harry Von Tilzer and his brother Albert were both inducted into the Songwriter's Hall of Fame, but both had already won fame with fans of old-time songs around the world. | ||||||
It was clear from an early age that Percy Wenrich (pronounced Wen-rik - no middle name) had a true gift for melody. He was born to Daniel Wenrich and Mary Wenrich in 1880. A few documents show minor variations to this - seven years in one case - and some mistakingly showing June instead of January - but the best of them point consistently to January 1880 as the proper birth month and year, including the 1880 Census. In that record, Daniel was listed as a lead miner, but his career track soon changed for the better. Percy had four siblings, including Raymond (9/1877) and Nellie (4/1890). The other two, born in the 1880s, had died in childhood before 1900.
Wenrich was raised in Joplin in southwest Missouri, surrounded by classic and folk ragtime influence. His father beame the postmaster of the city, and his first piano and organ teacher was his mother, an amateur pianist and organist in her own right. According to Wenrich she was known as "the Berry County pianist." In fact, Percy's siblings also learned to play piano to some capacity.In his early teens he started writing his own melodies, collaborating for fun with his father who penned lyrics for them. Some of them actually made their way into public performances and special events through the elder Wenrich's official capacity in the local Republican Party. According to a September 7, 1949 Billboard Magazine article, "These songs eulogized such Democratic stalwarts as Grover Cleveland and William Jennings Bryan, and were sung at political rallies and conventions by glee clubs organized on the spot." Percy spent some time learning performance with a local minstrel group, where he quickly picked up cakewalks and early ragtime tunes. There was also no shortage of either local or itinerant talent gracing the pianos around Joplin, and Wenrich took this all in as he often wandered through the downtown area which featured dozens of saloons and J. Frank Walker's Music Store. Percy also became known as "The Joplin Kid" during this time, a title he kept with him for many years. Just the same, in the 1900 Census he was shown working as a postal clerk under his father, music not yet established as a career. The young Wenrich's first published work was written at age 17. It was L'Inconnu, which Percy described as "a two-step with a fancy title." He had a vanity press of one thousand copies printed at Sol Bloom Publishing and sold it one piece at a time back in Missouri and Kansas. It wasn't long before he found himself desiring a higher level of musical training, so he set off for the Chicago Musical College, run by none other than Florenz Ziegfeld Sr., father of the future Broadway entrepreneur. He also studied organ under Louis Falk. In six months, his money gone, he returned to Joplin. However, six months later in 1901 he relocated to the windy city to be closer to the major Midwest publishers. While playing at the Congress Cafe and the Savoy, Percy got two popular styled pieces published by performer Frank Buck of Buck and Carney, including Just Because I'm From Missouri. He found his first career music job working with McKinley Music Company as a melody writer on demand. During that time he knocked off many numbers for McKinley, some possibly under unknown pseudonyms, for an average $5.00 each, and had some teaching pieces, such as The Katydid's Patrol for Ten Little Fingers, published as well. At times Percy commuted north on the train to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where he demonstrated songs, and some were published there as well. He lived in Milwaukee for a while, working the music counter at Gimbel's Department Store. It was hard work, but Wenrich noted that it kept him from having to play in "the district" where the brothels were located, a move up from the life of many pianists at that time. Back in Chicago, Percy met either Jerome H. Remick or, more likely, his manager Fred Belcher, and established loose ties with that publishing house. He would eventually have an enduring and fruitful relationship with the Remick company. During this time period he found his most popular works to be piano rags. While Wenrich's rags were not as refined or cohesive as those of classic composers or even some of the Tin Pan Alley writers, his gift for a memorable melody caused people to take notice. The first of them was Ashy Africa in 1903 which had been not just published but named by Buck before his move to McKinley. Then came Noodles, a much more authentic rag, but published by Arnett-Delonais instead of his own employer. The Smiler from 1907 became his best-selling rag without lyrics. It is subtitled "A Joplin Rag," which could have been interpreted as emulating the work of the more famous composer Scott Joplin, but Percy insisted that it referred to the style of piano played in his home town.Around 1907 Percy met the up and coming vaudeville performer Dolly Connolly (1888 to 1965). He was instantly enamored with here, and it wasn't long before they married. Being a musician he understood how important it was to use that gift, and she therefore was encouraged to continue her career with his support, something uncommon during this time period. Percy started collaborating with lyricists, and produced his first minor song hit, Rainbow, an Indian Intermezzo. When lyrics were added to transform it into Come Be My Rainbow, Percy had enough of a hit to prompt a change in locale. The couple then moved to New York in 1909, and his first six month check from Remick totalled around $4,200, a substantial amount. His next big hit secured his place as a songwriter. The most credible form of the story (there are many variants) are as follows. A friend of Percy's, Stanley Murphy, had just returned from a stay in Europe. Wenrich met him at the dock and Stanley relayed the lyrics for a potential hit song that they immediately wanted set to music. Wenrich did not have a piano available, so went to the manager of Remick's on Broadway and talked the manager into using a piano for 30 minutes. At the end of that time he was not satisfied with the tune as a whole, and pleaded for another 30 minutes. The manager refused and a noisy exchange occured. According to Wenrich, Jerome Remick himself came over to see what the fuss was about, and conceded to let the songwriter have another 30 minutes at the piano. Once finished, the composer then rushed to demonstrate the newly minted song for Remick who was on his way out the door for a long weekend in Atlantic City. Remick was unimpressed with the sentiment of the lyrics, but took the song with him and said he would render a decision on Monday. However the tune kept bouncing around in his head for several days, and Remick finally relented calling Wenrich back in, and telling him (with instinctual ego intact), "You must have a hit here. I've never been able to carry a tune, but here's a song even I can sing! Any song that even I can't forget must become a hit." Remick was known to be relatively unmusical. However, he proceeded to prove his point by performing "Put on your old sun bonnet," but kept on singing "grey bonnet." Wenrich tried to correct the publisher, but he was waved aside, saying "Let it stay that way. It sounds better." So that was how Wenrich and Murphy's big hit was named. Put On Your Old Grey Bonnet was an instant success, and was widely performed for many years.This song was soon followed by the rousing That Alamo Rag. His next big hit, Red Rose Rag, was written for Connolly, and was also well received. In fact famed comedian George Burns mentions it as one of his early favorites in two of his books of reminiscences, and used it as a theme for many years. Wenrich followed this up with a male quartet favorite, Moonlight Bay. He recalled knocking it off in Atlantic City, New Jersey, while sitting at the Old Vienna Cafe, a meat market he had invested in around 1910: "It was a swell night, with the moon streaming over the ocean. Just as I ordered another beer I thought I heard some guy ask the orchestra to play a piece called 'Moonlight Bay.' I was mistaken; they hadn't requested it, for the reason there was no such song, but I got to thinking what a swell title it would make and went home to work it. I also made dough on that piece." In 1913 Percy dabbled in publishing for a year, teaming up with businessman Homer Howard to form the Wenrich-Howard Publishing Company in the Shubert building at 1412 Broadway in New York. They put out a few of his pieces, including the hits Whipped Cream Rag and the Indian-themed song Snow Deer. However, the business end was too much for him to handle and gave him little time to write, so the company was dissolved in 1914 and Percy returned to writing and performing as much as possible with Dolly. His next stop as a contracted writer was at Leo Feist Publishing, who had purchased the Wenrich-Howard catalog. There he penned When You Wore a Tulip and I Wore a Big Red Rose, one of his biggest sellers. It didn't start out that way, however, as Wenrich thought it to be a flop. In its first six months the piece hardly moved, then it suddenly became highly popular, ultimately selling over two million copies. Throughout the 1910s until the eventual demise of vaudeville in the late 1920s, Wenrich both wrote for and toured with Dolly, as well as accompanied her during her stint as a recording star with Columbia Records. He contributed to a few stage musicals during that time as well, collaborating with a number of talented lyricists, including Howard Johnson of M-O-T-H-E-R fame. His first effort consisted of three songs contributed to The Crinoline Girl which ran a respectable 96 performances in 1914, and starred popular female impersonator Julian Eltinge. Eltinge would also star in the short-lived Cousin Lucy in 1916, with a score shared by Percy with none other than Jerome Kern. In 1914 Wenrich became a charter member of ASCAP in New York. A lesser known 1913 hit of Wenrich was highlighted in the Music Trade Review of April 24, 1915, explaining to some degree how fickle the public can be, and how one performance can make a difference: The psychology of song popularity has long been the study of those who have to do with the publishing of the bulk of our music of to-day, the sort known as "popular," though it is not usually referred to in that particular way. The idea of finding out what the public wants and endeavoring to make a good guess at it is the real basis of the music publishing business to-day — the basis upon which sales totals are built, despite all the talk there may be regarding the "forcing of hits."
For considerably over a year "When It's Moonlight in Mayo" has been moving along quietly without being featured very strongly. Then one night Percy Wenrich, the composer, and his partner, Dolly Connolly, sang the number while appearing in vaudeville at the Majestic Theater in Chicago so effectively that several of the critics gave more favorable attention to that one song than they did to the balance of the show. From that time on "When It's Moonlight in Mayo" has enjoyed a high place among popular music in the West. Before the Wenrich triumph, however, Van and Schenk, the popular pair of vaudeville artists, were singing the number while on their tour of the Keith houses in the Eastern cities, and winning encores at every performance. The greatest tribute to the value of "When It's Moonlight in Mayo" as a song, however, came recently when Fiske O'Hara ran across it accidentally and introduced it in his Irish comedy drama "Jack's Romance," which is proving one of the most successful vehicles in which Mr. O'Hara has ever appeared. The theatrical critics were quick to show their appreciation of the value of the new number in their reviews of "Jack's Romance," and a writer in the New York American went so far as to say: "Fiske O'Hara, the popular romantic actor of the good-natured Irish go-lucky types, had plenty of songs in his new play, 'Jack's Romance.' But the other day he accidentally came across another called 'When It's Moonlight in Mayo.' And Fiske O'Hara an hour later was glad that he did hear it, for he had picked for himself the ballad hit of the season... "It is an Irish love song as pure in its sentiment as the mountain dew, and as fetching in its appeal as the big limpid blue eyes of Erin's comely daughters. Like all successful ballads it combines great beauty of melody with simplicity of form. The tune haunts your ear like some witching folk song you've learned as a child, yet not suggesting any definite one, because it is purely original and not in the least an imitation..." Dolly and Percy generally got good press and reviews wherever they performed. One example from the Toronto World of February 22, 1916, as part of a visiting show read: "Decided favorites in their offereings of new songs, written by Percy Wenrich, were Dolly Connolly and the composer himself. A number sung for the first time in Toronto, 'Sweet Cider [Time],' which is both catchy and musical, proved the 'hit' of the performance. Composer and singer had to respond to several recalls and an encore was insisted upon..."
On his 1918 draft record Wenrich lists his employer as Leo Feist and his profession as Vaudeville Entertainer, and Dolly C. Wenrich as his wife. The Wenrichs are found in Manhattan in 1920 with him as a music composer and her as a theatrical actress. However, his birth state is incorrectly shown as Iowa. The remaining demographics are correct. At some point in the early 1920s Percy and Dolly moved to The Lambs Club on West 44th Street in Manhattan. The 1920s are the time when Wenrich became most active on Broadway. With Raymond Peck he created the musical Maid to Love in 1920, which opened in Atlantic City and toured around the country, but did not do at all well. They revamped the story while keeping most of the songs, and in 1921 introduced The Right Girl starring Dolly as a main character. It fared better when it reach Broadway, falling just two short of 100 performances. The musical was reviewed in the New York Times on March 16, the reviewer insisting that "Percy Wenrich's score as several high spots - 'Love's little Journey' was good for half a dozen encores last night, and there were several other numbers to set the feet tapping. Dolly Connolly, come from vaudeville, sang several of the best numbers vivaciously..."Some Party from 1922 was more of a revue, and it closed in about two weeks. In 1925 Percy and Raymond came up with Castles in the Air which ran a good 160 performances on Broadway in mid 1926, but without Dolly in the cast. As noted in the Music Trade Review of December 5, 1925: "'Castles in the Air,' a new musical comedy, opened at the Olympic Theatre, Chicago, late last month. If the audiences at the first few shows and the newspaper critics are any judges it will prove one of the greatest musical successes of years. Such captions as 'Looks like another 'Nanette,'' and 'the best operetta in years,' followed by 'looks like a substantial portion for its promoters,' appeared in the dailies following the opening. The book is by Raymond W. Peck and the music is by Percy Wenrich. The Chicago Journal said that the music by Wenrich gives him a place beside the late lamented Victor Herbert when that composer was writing at the very top of his inspiration..." Percy and Dolly ventured to France in spring of 1927 after Castles in the Air closed, the only clear evidence of any European excursions they made. His output nearly ceased during this period. However, The Bells of St. Gabriel's became a minor sensation for singer and composer Ernest R. Ball during a 1927 West Coast tour. Wenrich's last apparent Broadway contribution was Who Cares in the summer of 1930. With the Great Depression settling in, it was apparent that few actually did care, and it closed after three weeks. Early in the 1930s Percy and Dolly retired from performance, staying in New York City. In 1930 Wenrich is listed as a guest at a Broadway hotel and the expected profession of a composer of music. However, his age is listed as five years younger then his actual 45, and Dolly is not found in the residence but at the previously listed Lambs Club on West 44th. This may have been a temporary situation while he was engaged with Who Cares, as they co-wrote a advertisement song that year in praise of a farm combine of all things. Titled Hail to the Gleaner Baldwin, it was published by the Gleaner company in Missouri. Not much else is available on the Wenrichs in the 1930s. Percy was reported to have retired from writing and performance in 1934 while still living in Hollywood. There are some reports that Dolly was in failing mental health by that time, which may have prompted this decision. There was also the currency of his writing, which he disccussed in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette on May 4, 1934: About a year ago Irving Berlin told the writer [Douglas Gilbert] beer and repeal [of national prohibition] would bring back the old, singable melodies. His prediction proved unfounded. The Broadway melodeers still stay specialized, turning out trick tunes and orchestrated novelties...
This has been a jolt to old-timers like Percy Wenrich, who wrote "When You Wore a Tulip" and "Put On Your Old [Grey] Bonnet." Here are two songs as singable today as they were in the days of the sitting-room pi-anner with Mamie thumping an accompaniment while the neighborhood boys and girls gathered 'round. "I admit," said Mr. Wenrich, expanding on the trend of popular tunes the other day at the Lambs [Club], "that writing for crack bands, good musicians and professional singers has improved our popular music technically. But I can't see any melodic improvement. "Take such a fine tune as Jerome Kern's 'Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.' You can't even play it, let alone sing it. It modulates from three flats to five sharps. Similarly, the contemporary Mamies can't play Berlin's 'Heat Wave.' Its tricky rhythm is way beyond the average pianist's technique..." A song of Percy's that made a lot of dough for him and yet is scarcely recalled today is the war tune, "Where Do We Go From Here?""Curious thing about that one," Percy recalled, "Feist called me over to his office one day. Says, 'Percy, all the war tunes the boys sang in the past were just rum-ti-tum gags having nothing to do with fighting. Take 'Hot Time in the Old Town,' which was the hit of the Spanish-American War. Go ahead and knock one out and beat the rest of 'em to it.' "So I asked Howard Johnson to do me a lyric. The next day he brought down a verse and chorus. 'It's lousy, Percy,' he said, 'But you can use it for a dummy, and I'll give you something better later.' It was 'Where Do We Go From Here?' a screwy lyric if ever there was one about a Broadway cabby who sang the refrain to his fares: 'Oh, boy, oh, boy, where do we go from here?' We never changed a line of it." But these times, with their jittery tunes and scherzo scores, it'd take a [pianist Walter] Gieseking to play and a [soprano Lily] Pons to sing, have not been kind to Percy. He rates a permanent Class A at the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers which assures him an annual stipend even if his songs don't sell a copy. This pays his rent, lunches and bar bill at the Lambs. Yet for one who has contributed a half-dozen hits to the Broadway library of song he ought to be doing much better. Percy is an optimist, though, believing that repeal eventually will awaken the old conviviality and with it the old songs. Says the cycle'll get around to simple melodies "that a guy can play and sing, and I'll be doing all right again." Wenrich was involved for many years with Songwriters on Parade, one of the last gasps of vaudeville, which featured a number of veteran songwriters performing their own works. They toured from 1931 to 1940 on the old Loews and Keith circuits, and Wenrich was part of the act for at least part of the later 1930s, in spite of his declared retirement. He is listed in 1942, back with Dolly, and living again (or still) at The Lambs Club, and with no employer. Dolly's mental and physical health eventually did deteriorate to the point where Wenrich had her committed to a sanatorium in 1947, as nursing homes were still uncommon. The few symptoms that were reported suggest that she may have had Alzheimer's disease. Dolly was eventually released to the care of her sister after Wenrich's death.
"Ragtime Bob" Darch visited the elderly Wenrich in 1951 around the time of the release of the Doris Day film, On Moonlight Bay, which featured his songs. He was infirmed and unable to travel to his home town of Joplin for the tribute and the premiere, but was pleased by all the attention, sending along a telegram of thanks to all involved. Darch vividly remembers how touched Wenrich was by all of this, particularly when he heard a band that had been arranged for to play some of his songs for him outside of his window. In the late 1940s the retired composer resided at the Park Sheraton Hotel in Manhattan. Percy Wenrich died peacefully in March 1952 after having lived a fulfilling and productive life. His body was laid to rest at Fairview Cemetery in his beloved Joplin, Missouri. Wenrich left behind an unforgettable legacy of happy memories through his music. Dolly survived her late husband, living off his ASCAP pension with her sister until 1965 when she passed on in New York. She similarly left us with a legacy of authentic recorded ragtime songs and happy memories. | |||||||
![]() Little exists on Clarence Wiley, yet he left behind one of the more popular rags ever published. Born in Bellaire, Ohio, to house painter Benson I. Wiley and his wife Ella E. Wiley, the family had moved to Lincoln, Iowa by the time of 1900 Census. Clarence was the middle child of five, as he also had a younger brother, Carle, who died in 1901 at the age of 11, younger brother Ernest born in July, 1893, and two older siblings, gender and age uncertain but born between 1881 and 1882. Much of the previously unknown information about Wiley was thankfully uncovered by researcher Reginald Pitts, and further research by the author. |
August Winkler was born to Johan Winkler and his wife (name not found), and grew up for the most part in Graz, Austria. It is hard to imagine that living in Austria during a period of musical revival in the 1880s and 1890s he would not have been exposed to many musical forms. It also seems likely he had the normal lessons in piano and music theory as well, but this is not known for sure. At some point a few years into the new century August spent some time as a resident of Shanghai, China, where a number of Austrian and German expatriates made their home (some continue to into the 21st century). He first arrived in the United States on August 29, 1908, having come over as a waiter working on the S.S. Rotterdam for the Holland-America line. Listing no relatives in the United States, it is unclear what his initial goal was, but Gus soon ended up in Chicago. (Note that there was another Gus Winkler in Chicago in the 1920s, but he was a gangster and should not be confused with this composer.)
While in Chicago, Gus met German-born Marie, and they were married by 1912. That same year saw the publication of his first pieces, including two songs and one rag, all published in Chicago. Midnight Rag is among his best known pieces, and many copies still exist, indicating it as a brisk seller. It even saw its way to an orchestrated version for period dance orchestras. There is an indication of a Midnight Waltzes as well, but whether it was actually published is still uncertain. The following year saw the publication of a song with soon-to-be famed lyricist Richard Whiting, and his unique Banana Peel Rag, a work which belies his Eastern-European origins in both style and content. For a 1913 trip back to Austria, Winkler listed his occupation as "Music Publisher," indicating that he likely had a staff position with a Chicago publisher - possible Forster at this time - either arranging, grading or playing music. Another song appeared in 1915, a moderate hit with a positive message, After the Rain Always Look for the Sunshine. One more appeared during the First World War, and one listing shows a 1919 orchestral arrangement of a piece named Fandango credited to Gus, but hard to confirm as his.In late 1917 Gus is shown on his draft card to be married with two children, and working for the publishing house of Shapiro, Bernstein & Company. He was considered a Declarist, meaning that although he was not a U.S. Citizen, he declared allegiance to the country for the sake of fighting in the war. This is curious since it would have found him fighting against Germany who entered the war in support of Austria when Russia declared against them, but many allegiances were a bit clouded during that time. It is not certain whether Gus actually fought or not, but the appearance of a 1918 composition helps make that seem less likely. In 1920 he is shown to have three children, August F. Jr. (1914), Marie (1916), and Hildegard (Lydia) (1918). Marie had twins either in late 1920 or early to mid 1921, Louis C. and Henrietta B.. Gus died in 1921 after a brief illness stated as "tuber dorsalis/cystits and rectal complications/paralysis" on his death certificate. He is buried in St. Lucas' Cemetery in the Chicago area. Marie remarried around 1925 to Alabama native Joseph L. Frank, a theatrical booking agent according to the 1930 Census taken in Chicago. By that time, Marie had a career as an insurance investigator. Her five children took their stepfather's last name, and little else is known of their situation after that time except that the family relocated to the Nashville, Tennessee area. Thanks go to researcher Reginald Pitts who found Winkler's death certificate and filled in the blanks about his unfortunate demise. Also to his granddaughter Barbara Sinclair, who provided a few clues that led me to more on his family after Mr. Winkler's premature death.
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Born in Blue Earth, Adams County, Ohio to Samuel C. Woods and Margaret (Maggie) Woods, Clarence Woods was raised in both eastern Kansas and Carthage in southwest Missouri. Note that some sources list him as H. Clarence Woods, but multiple US Census and local Census records clearly list him as Clarence H. Woods (Hamer after his grandfather Daniel Hamer Woods), and his WWI Draft card shows him simply as Clarence Woods. The 1895 Kansas Census shows the family in Girard, Kansas. His father was a blacksmith, and he had two younger brothers and two younger sisters, including Claude Beckman (6/1888), Marguerite J. (1/1892), Gladys M. (9/1893) and Bryan W. (6/1896). Thanks go to researcher Mitch Meador who provided some information about Woods' later Oklahoma compositions for concert band.
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Calvin L. Woolsey, was a man of many talents that went beyond piano rag composition, and occupies a very unique niche in ragtime history. He was not only born to but delivered by his father, Napoleon Bonaparte Woolsey, and mother Gertrude Isabel [Martin] Woolsey. While some texts show his birth year as 1884, the hospital record, filled in by his father, is clearly 1883, and other historical sources confirm this year. | ||||||
John Stepan Zamecnik (pronounced zam-ish-nick) was a first generation American born in Ohio of Bohemian (now Czech Republic) parents Josef (Joseph) and Catherine (Kate) (Hrubecky) Zamecnik. His parents arrived in New York on May 26, 1870 with his older sisters Catherine and Anna. John was one of three children in the family that survived to adulthood. His father was an accomplished musician, and saw this propensity in his son, so made sure he was musically trained early on in his youth.
In the 1880 Census Joseph the family was living in Cleveland with Joseph working as both a musician and a barrel cooper. Interestingly enough, they were living in a home on Croton Street next door to a music teacher, Mr. A.J. Rock.At age 15, John took courses in harmony and theory. At 18 he was sent to the Prague Conservatory of Music to study all facets of music. This included a composition class with famed composer Anton Dvorák. After four years John returned to the US, and is listed in the 1900 census, still in Cleveland, as a musician living in his parent's home, and his father also listed in the same profession at age 68. The following year John was working as first violinist with the Pittsburgh Symphony, which at that time was under the direction of operetta and song composer Victor Herbert. He spent three years in Pittsburgh before returning home to Ohio. Back in Cleveland, John married Mary Barbara Hodous in 1904, and they soon had two sons, Walter and Edwin. It is unclear what musical activities he was involved with at that time, perhaps working on composing and playing with local groups, but in 1908 he became the musical director for the new Cleveland Hippodrome. This gave him a chance to have some of his compositions for stage and orchestra performed, and once they started showing movies, he quickly adapted to this by writing appropriate music that could be interchanged between films with similar scenarios. This would soon become his primary genre, and one that would influence cinema for quite some time. In 1908 Zamecnik's first published piece with Sam Fox, College Yell March, began a long relationship with the Cleveland publisher that made him a force in the publishing industry in spite of his non-metropolitan area location in northern Ohio. Some of the early pieces included syncopated marches, waltzes, and good popular tunes, yet with something more. Fox saw in Zamecnik a musical resource that was obviously well-versed in classical writing and performance, yet did not put down popular styles, even embracing them to a degree. Indeed, the composer became as known for his popular works as his semi-classical ones. A typical notice was found in the trade magazines in 1916: "A most timely publication is 'All America,' a brilliant march by J. S. Zamecnik and one of the features of the Sam Fox Co.'s catalog. The piece has a martial swing to it and is being well received throughout the country. There is a special demand for the number for use in Decoration Day celebrations throughout the country. Moreover, there are big orders which tell the story."The publisher also saw promise in the film score snippets John had written, and soon started to publish them as well. It was a daunting task, trying to retrofit not only music, but at times full scores for films, from Cleveland Ohio, when the industry was largely in New York and Los Angeles. However, once Fox started releasing folios of Zamecnik's film queues in 1913 for distribution to and use of pianists in movies houses around the country, he established an important foothold in the industry that lasted through the 1920s. Fox also published Zamecnik songs written for some stage musicals and other theatrical productions. While at Fox, Zamecnik worked primarily as an arranger, including shaping many pieces by composers like Mel B. Kaufmann and Robert Wilson. He also composed both popular songs and waltzes in addition to orchestrated film queues under a variety of pseudonyms (up to 21 have been identified), perhaps in an effort to fatten up the perceived stable of Fox composers and not flood the market with his own. This was a common practice at that time. Sometimes a certain pseudonym might also be attached to a certain genre for clarification as well. However, his arranger credits usually appeared on these pieces as well as other Fox composers. He also composed in a wide variety of genres, including ragtime. Even though his Movie Rag was published separately in 1913, he managed to find a way with the clever use of repeats and minor compromises to just one page in one of the Fox folios. Some of those popular songs were also orchestrated for use as movie queues, and he sometimes composed songs for specific films. After a while he also composed works to be used with newsreels, which gave them a whole new dynamic under the right hands. Many pieces from the multiple Fox folios of Zamecnik's works in both piano and orchestra formats also found their way into full scores for early sound films, and used incessantly in sound cartoons as well, particularly by Carl Stalling for Warner Brothers. The only big competition to this lucrative product came from Jerome H. Remick who followed Fox's lead with large folios of their own, which in spite of their scope were still not quite as successful. Even though he had been working for Fox for nearly a decade, Zamecnik was considered just a staff member. His considerable contributions paid off handsomely in 1919, however. As reported in the August 9, 1919 edition of The Music Trade Review: "Sam Fox Publishing Co., Cleveland, O., has just signed J. S. Zamecnik, the well-known composer and arranger, to a contract covering a period of years. It is understood that the contract calls for guarantee by the publishers of a large sum each year running into five figures. For a number of years Mr. Zamecnik has been connected with the musical staff of the above firm, of late serving as musical editor. He is considered one of the greatest arrangers in the country and has written many popular compositions, some of them having quite large sales." The length of the contract was not disclosed, but it may well have followed him to Southern California a few years later, allowing him to work from his new digs.By the early 1920s many larger budget feature films were accompanied by custom scores commissioned for that purpose, usually for the road-show productions that used live orchestras or mid-sized ensembles. Zamecnik was engaged for queues or musical sections for several of these films. For this reason and with Sam Fox's blessing he took the family to Los Angeles in 1924, same year he joined ASCAP, where the film industry was now centered. His full scores were obviously for silent films for the next three years, including the Paramount productions of Old Ironsides and Rough Riders. Zamecnik was still employed by Fox in spite of the relocation, and wrote other pieces as well. Polly, from 1926, is an interesting and charming novelty intermezzo that became another top seller for the company, touted as the "logical successor to Nola" by Felix Arndt. Neapolitan Nights was appropriately introduced in an orchestral presentation at the Metropolitan Theater in Los Angeles in March, 1926. It didn't hurt business that Zamecnik's efforts in Hollywood eventually led to a score department being added to the publishing house. As noted in The Music Trade Review of December 10, 1927, "Rapid strides have been taken recently by the Sam Fox Publishing Co., New York and Cleveland, in developing the musical score department of the business, the preparation of which has been handled in the past principally by John S. Zamecnik, well-known composer and arranger, who is head of the Fox professional staff. Announcement was made this week by Sam Fox, president of the company, of the appointment of Dr. Edward Kilenyi, another prominent composer-arranger, who will assist Mr. Zamecnik in working on special scores. Another new addition to the Fox ranks is Albert Sanger, who is taking full charge of the copying and extracting of scores to be issued by the Sam Fox firm. Mr. Zamecnik is at present engaged in writing scores for two large motion picture features, which will reach Broadway shortly and give every indication of equaling the success of 'Wings,' for which he also wrote the musical setting. The new pictures are: 'The Wedding March' and 'Abie's Irish Rose,' the latter film based on the celebrated play of the same name, which broke all records for long runs in New York. Dr. Kilenyi... is at present in Los Angeles assisting Mr. Zamecnik, who is thus enabled to extend his activities in working on film settings." Now contracted by Paramount Pictures through an agreement with Sam Fox to provide and publish all of their film scores, J.S. wrote the music for the first film ever to win an Oscar for best picture, Wings, released in late 1927. Although The Jazz Singer had debuted two months before, and a few sound films were already in theaters, Wings still gained much notice as an essentially silent film with an added soundtrack. In this sense, Zamecnik became one of the first in his field to compose a full underscore for a film that would be used in perpetuity, rather than at the whim of a theater music director. Fox also published the score for performance in theaters not equipped with sound, something much to the composer's preferences, and some 4,000 copies were distributed. The theme to the movie was published for piano in sheet music form with lyrics by Ballard Macdonald.In an April 12, 1928 review in the Los Angeles Times, both the score and the sound effects were given notice: "Three factors not usually recognized by the average audience are pre-eminent in 'Wings,' the war film at the Biltmore. These are the sound effects, the music and the remarkable photography. Effects in pictures are easily over-emphasized, but in 'Wings' the droning of motors adds so materially to the illusion of flight that the orchestra actually stops playing at two places in the film and the scenes unfold to the sound of roaring engines alone. To create a musical score for such a picture as 'Wings' was a task which only the cleverest composers could undertake. Paramount chose J.S. Zamecnik for the work. The work required six full months of Zamecnik's time and the assistance of six skilled musicians." The advent of Paramount's Wings, Warner Brothers' The Jazz Singer and MGM's Broadway Melody made the need for composers of Zamecnik's caliber obvious. Until the late 1920s, most of them were still based in New York because most of the publishers were located there, as was Broadway, a very needy source in terms of new music. However, as noted in the Los Angeles Times on December 9, 1928, the migration was clearly underway because of the potential of sound films with music in them to reach more people around the world. Hark, Hark! The piano tuners are in town. Tin Pan Alley has come ot Hollywood. That picturesque street in the Forties [originally the Twenties] in New York, where for years song writers and piano thumpers have held forth in their tuneful glory must be about as quiet and deserted as a pathway in a New England graveyard.
For judging from the announcements which daily roll forth from the film studios, all the song writers who ever set a note to music sheet, all the fair-hared lads who ever thumped a piano down in McGuire's Cafe, have come west to write theme songs and hit songs for the new talking and singing pictures. Whether the available supply of baby grands and uprights in Los Angeles will prevail, whether the music stores will stand the strain, remains to be seen. Tin Pan Alley is here. Those writers who have not donned their second best suit for travelling, packed away the red flannels in the cedar chest to come to California have joined the New York offices of the various film organizations.
This sudden and impressive need for songs for pictures has followed the advent of the talkies. Every talkie that goes out must have its theme song synchronized with the film. Where before a theme song could be enjoyed only in the larger cities where good orchestral accompaniment was available, now it belongs to the picture and can be heard in any theater where there is sound-reproducing equipment. In the past, theme songs were not always a part of synchronization. They were often numbers dedicated to the star of the picture. This is still true today to some extent. Hit songs now are coming from the movies and where thousands heard them before, millions of people are hearing and humming the new melodies within the space of a very few months... Paramount song writers include Walter Donaldson, Wolfe Gilbert, Richard F. Whiting, Leo Robin, Hajos, Savino, Carbonarro and [J.S.] Zamecnik. Walter Donaldson is probably one of the most prolific song writers of the day. With Wolfe Gilbert, he was responsible for "Out of the Dawn," theme song for "Warming Up." Whiting is best known for his hit, "Japanese Sandman..." Theme songs for pictures are not new. Synchronized scores for pictures have been in use for years, as long ago as "The Birth of a Nation," in fact. D.W. Griffith was one of the first to use them. Once in an interview he said: "Don't ask me about my picture, ask me about my music." Interestingly enough, theme and hit songs of the pictures seem to be without exception of ballad nature. [They] are not "Hotsy, Totsy," "You Gotta See Mamma Every Night" songs. They are instead sentimental in nature. The triumph of Wings was followed by another film spectacular, albeit also a silent picture with a recorded score. Redskin, again produced by Paramount was premiered in 1929 with a Movietone soundtrack. Shot in New Mexico, Arizona and California, this sweeping saga was presented in two-strip "natural" Technicolor, and Zamecnik's work may be considered as one of the first of the Western genre underscores. While many have since pointed to the talented Max Steiner as the true originator of the active film underscore, starting with King Kong in 1933, there are critics who give some credence to J.S. Zamecnik in this role, even though, or because scoring for a film without dialog does present a different set of challenges. Paramount, in particular, was very happy with their star composer, and many early critics of sound films had similar praise for Zamecnik's scores.
Some of the other films J.S. scored were in the beginning of the sound era, and even though as with Wings and Redskin they had no dialogue, the producers chose to record the score to a soundtrack for distribution as a "sound" film. This frustrated John to no end since he felt people should be exposed to the vibrant sound of a full orchestra in the theater, rather than a tinny soundtrack from poorly amplified speakers. In some cases his score (now often referred to as an underscore) was laid down under dialogue and noisy effects, adding to his frustration. Among these was Abie's Irish Rose, The Wedding March, and the alpine drama The Betrayal.Yet as an arranger and conductor, J.S. was kept busy in Los Angeles, frequently appearing at local concert venues, and at times conducting his own works as well. He was heard on various Southern California radio stations as well from the late 1920s to the mid 1930s, including KFI, KFAC, KNX, KECA and KMTR. As the Great Depression set in around 1930, radio became a primary source of entertainment for many people, followed by movies, but the recording industry suffered greatly as a result. Few of the broadcasts that J.S. participated in were recorded, so the best record of his works at that time remains in the film scores he contributed. Zamecnik retired from composing for the most part in 1933 after scoring The Power and the Glory, working only occasionally as a consultant or arranger and continuing his radio appearances. He stayed in Los Angeles for his remaining fifteen years, but was frustratingly largely unknown at the time of his death except among the remaining cadre of early film composers and silent era pianists. His official obituary printed in the major papers after his death at 81 in 1953 noted that he had composed the scores for Wings and Abie's Irish Rose, but little else. He was entombed at the Inglewood Mausoleum near Los Angeles International Airport. J.S. Zamecnik left behind perhaps 2000 individual compositions from the frequently used mysterious eight bar Pizzicato Misterioso to his fully developed scores that set the template for future film composers. He also left a great deal of influence on ragtime from his early Movie Rag to his best-selling 1926 composition Polly, a piece that was known to pianists from recordings only until it was released in 1929 to vigorous sales. Zamecnik helped embody the integration of popular music with traditional forms, broadening the audience for these forms of music, and sometimes subliminally reaching them through their exposure to it in the movie houses. His work also underscored, literally, how important the proper music was to setting a mood for a particular moment in a movie, rather than just a hodgepodge of popular tunes or rags played underneath. One of the best exposures to his works these days is in part a tribute from Carl Stalling who used several Zamecnik queues, both credited and largely unknown, in many of the Looney Tunes and Merry Melodies cartoons of the late 1930s to the mid 1950s. Stalling, who started with Disney in the 1920s, picked up the clear notion from Zamecnik that even in animation the music should properly fit the scene, even if it was in the form of clever association by pun. But Zamecnik's influence was also felt in the great reach that Fox Music was able to maintain throughout the world from the unassuming yet important locale of Cleveland, Ohio. Much of the legwork on Zamecnik's personal information, outside of the lists this author compiled and what is available in public records, should be largely attributed to historian Rodney Sauer of the Monte Alto Motion Picture Orchestra, which has many fine recordings out of film music including much of Zamecnik's body of work. Additional information came from the Sam Fox archives and various Fox histories. Sam Fox Music is not affiliated with the 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. | |||||||||||||||||||||||

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