Bicycles and Saxophones, The Elliott~Savonas Troupe

 

What would Mozart think of the saxophone?
Before he had even heard one,
I expect Wolfgang would admire its sinuous shape
with its gleaming brass and silver keys.

 

 

 

 

Within a few seconds of hearing its brash reedy sound,
Mozart would instantly recognize
the saxophone's great musical potential.
 

Moreover, he would surely marvel
how women could play this wind instrument too,
producing a beautiful imitation of the human voice.

 

 But once he learned that the saxophone
came in enough different sizes to give it a range
that nearly encompassed all the notes on a piano,
I believe Mozart would be astonished beyond words
and excited with the idea of writing new music
for this marvelous instrument.

If only he had heard
a performance of the
Elliott~Savonas saxophone septet.

 

 

But I suspect Wolfgang
might have been even more impressed
by the Elliott's act on their patent unicycles.

The Elliott's on their patent Unicycles
Source: Milner Library, Illinois State University

 

 

 

But before I get ahead of myself,
we have to start...
in the middle,
which is where I found the link between
the Elliotts and Savonas as cyclists and saxophonists.

 

 

London, The Era
18 December 1897

In December 1897, London's theatrical trade paper, The Era, ran it's weekly directory of acts then touring the theaters and music halls of Britain. In the center of the D to H column was a notice:

ELLIOTTS and SAVONAS, the Marvelous
Electric Musicians and Safety Cyclists, Permanent
address, 42. St. Paul's-road. Middlebrough-on-Tees.

They were a troupe of entertainers who performed in two separate and completely different acts. The first was as the Cycling Elliotts and the second was as the Musical Savonas. This multi-talented ensemble of seven siblings (Mostly, but more on that later.) got their start in show business as a circus family of trick cyclists. In the 1880s they expanded their act, becoming a musical ensemble that played an amazing number of instruments, notably on the saxophone.

The Elliotts, 1903
Source: University of Amsterdam, Theatercollectie

This colorful poster of the Elliotts dates from 1903. Framed across the center is a picture of the four brothers and three sisters dressed in "civilian" attire.  In one corner is a vignette of the Elliotts as "the Musical Savonas" dressed in quasi-18th century costumes with seven saxophones. In another corner are the Elliotts as "the Worlds Cycling Wonders" wearing fancy acrobatic leotards and posing with a bicycle. In 1898 they appeared as the headline attraction at the People's Palace in Bristol, England.

Bristol Mercury & Daily Post
15 April 1898

The Seven Savonas, "musical marvels", were the same performers as the Elliotts, the "wonderful acrobatic safety cyclists". "Engaged at enormous expense" they appeared at the People's Palace alongside various comedians, two knockabout drolls, song & dance artists, and a head and hand balancer act. The Palace announced that the Savonas electrical stage fit-up used "over 400 8-candle power lamps." Their cycle act came later in the show after "The Academy, the laughable sketch by the renowned Collinson combination". Ticket were at "popular prices, 3d to 2s 6d."

The Elliott troupe consisted of Catherine Thompson Elliot, also known as Kate, born 1868; Thomas Elliott, aka Tom, born 1870; James Elliott, aka Jim, born 1871; Mary Rand Elliott, aka Polly, born 1878; Matthew Albert Elliott, aka Little Dot, born 1878; Amphlett Elliott, aka Harry, born 1880; and possibly May Elliott, a step-sister born in 1883; or maybe a cousin, Dorothy Ann Elliott, aka Little Annie; or maybe, Tina Elliott, a wife of one of the brothers; or perhaps someone else unrelated but brought on to fill a vacant spot in the Elliott troupe. This was how show business worked then, and still does today. A successful high class act could never really disappear as long as suitable substitutes could be hired to keep the show on the road.

The patriarch of the show was James Bedford Elliott (1846–1906), a blacksmith from Middlesbrough, Yorkshire, England. As a young man he developed a passion for cycling, becoming both a bicycle racer and trick rider. He started first on the high-wheel penny-farthing or "ordinary", and then moved to the so-called safety bicycle, which became the modern bicycle. His ambition led Elliott to set up his own bicycle shop, building cycles to his own designs. But it was after starting a family with his first wife Mary Thompson when his two oldest, Tom and Catherine, demanded that he make cycles for them, that James discovered just what clever, nimble children were capable of. Both children proved to be adept riders and were soon able to demonstrate progressively more extreme stunts. Their younger siblings quickly followed, and by the 1880s James had enough cycling talent in his family to form a show good enough for the circus.

The Elliott's patent Revolving Table
P.T. Barnum Circus
1883 Route Book and Diary
Source: Milner Library, Illinois State University

Inspired by his children's agility and balance, Elliott began fabricating novel child-size bicycles and tricycles. One concept that Elliott called a unicycle were terrifying cycle skates which attached a wheel to each foot. Another equally precarious invention, inspired by how his son Tom could pedal  round and round in small circles, was a large revolving table that rotated powered by a crank mechanism. When Tom was on it he would propel himself counter to the rotation, creating an illusion of stationary motion. This contraption had a platform just large enough for all four of the Elliott children to ride around on their high wheel machines. It was a stunt that deserved to be seen by a larger audience, so in the late 1870s James Elliott and his family joined a circus company.

After gaining some celebrity in Europe, in the spring of 1883 the Elliott family left England for New York City where they were engaged by P. T. Barnum's Greatest Show on Earth and Cooper & Bailey's Great London Circus for a grand tour of the U.S. and Canada. Its first shows were set for a two week run at Madison Square Gardens beginning on March 26, 1883. The Elliott cyclists were booked for the circus's center ring that season. But there was a little problem with the city authorities.

 

 

 

Philadelphia Inquirer
3 April 1883

The New York Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, established only a few years before in 1874, objected to the performance of the Elliott children, charging that their act was in violation of the city's child protection and labor laws. A warrant was issued for the arrest of the circus owners, Phineas T. Barnum, J. L. Hutchinson, and J. A. Bailey, as well as the children's father, James Elliot. After covering the $300 bond for each of them, P. T. Barnum arranged for a special demonstration of the Elliott cycle act in front of 400 invited guests that included the district attorney, the police court's judges and officers, and several prominent physicians to judge for themselves if the act was harming the children in any way. After seeing the Elliott's performance, the medical fraternity "fully approved the exercises of the Elliott children upon the unicycle and bicycle, and that [there was] no detriment, morally or physically, to them." The charges were removed and the Elliott's act could go on. All across the country, newspapers major and minor, reported on the incident. P. T. Barnum was a master at getting free advertisement.

 

On April 22, Barnum's circus left New York for two weeks in Brooklyn. The Elliott family just missed crossing the East River on the new Brooklyn Bridge which would open a month later on May 24th. The next cities on the route were in Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington D.C. before the circus headed west. The circus would not stop until reaching Hannibal, Missouri on October 20th after which it returned to Barnum's winter quarters in Bridgeport, Connecticut. 

 

The total journey of the Barnum, Cooper & Baily's circus was calculated at 9,932 miles for 180 working days, not counting cancellations due to rain. The various acts thrilled audiences under the big main tent, 377 ft x 216 ft, by appearing simultaneously in three rings, a Barnum innovation. There were four additional tents for the menagerie, museum, dressing rooms, and side show. Altogether Barnum employed 650 people that traveled in 59 railroad cars. Besides the performers, bands, crew, tents, wagons, and equipment, the circus also took along 249 horses; 22 ponies; 29 elephants, including the great Jumbo brought over in 1880 from the London Zoo; and 25 camels. 

 

All this information and more is recorded in the 1883 Diary or Route Book of P. T. Barnum's Greatest Show on Earth, which meticulously records the effects of weather on the gigantic circus company and gives daily reports on incidents like ill health, accidents, and injuries suffered by animals and humans alike. For the six Elliott children it must have been an amazing adventure, but it was also a lot of work. Excepting Sunday when there was no performance of the circus, every day required setting up tents and displays, marching in a parade, performing a single or even double show, and later that night dismantling everything to move on to the next city. To succeed the Elliotts needed to learn the harsh discipline of circus life. Evidently it agreed with them as they went on to join other circuses and traveled the world with their trick bicycles. 

But in a few years the Cycling Elliotts transformed
into the Savonas with saxophones.

The Elliott~Savonas, 1910
Source: University of Amsterdam, Theatercollectie

In 1910 the seven Elliott~Savonas armed a full array of saxophones appeared on a poster "in a Spectacle Musical Act"  that would have delighted Mozart. Dressed in red, white, and gold, quasi-18th century costumes, the illustration gives us a better idea than their sepia tone postcard of what their stage show looked like. The Elliotts had been entertaining audiences for over thirty years together, but the bicycles and leotards were gone and instead were replaced with saxophones and powdered wigs. They also added a kind of suffix to their name, the Savonas. This double name, not to mention the two separate acts, made it a difficult challenge for me to find references that identified them as the same seven people. But finding out how the Elliotts transformed their cycling act into a musical concert ensemble seemed an impossible question to answer.

But amazingly the explanation came from Mr. James B. Elliott himself in a December 1900 interview that he gave to a reporter from the Midland Daily Telegraph. It was reprinted in March 1901 by the Chatham & Rochester News. The article's title reads:

The Savonas' Saxaphone (sic) Band

 

Chatham & Rochester News
2 March 1901

In the long story J. B. Elliott explains that 20 odd years before he had heard a saxophone for the first time and been impressed by its appearance and tone. As his young children were musically inclined, he bought one for his son who learned to play it. Soon, just like with the cycling, the other siblings became jealous and asked to get a saxophone too, so Elliott ordered a full set,  soprano to bass, from the Buffet Co. of Paris, the premier maker of woodwind instruments. Having traveled through Cuba, North and South America, Europe, and the United Kingdom, Mr. Elliott had never met or heard of another saxophone band like his children's septet, so he considered them a very unique musical ensemble. 

 

The group also performed as a brass band following the British style instrumentation, and had plans to add a septet of ocarinas. The Elliott~Savonas concert also used a large organ keyboard on stage, sets of sleigh bells; marimbas from South America; bells from Java bought at the Chicago's World's Fair in 1893; and many other novelty instruments they had discovered on their travels. They sometimes advertised that they played over 50 instruments in their show.

Though it is not mentioned in Mr. Elliot's interview, I learned from a recent article on the Elliott family troupe, that the name Savonas was coined by Elliott from the French word for soap, savon. Considering the Elliott family's long experience working in a circus environment, soap was likely an old family joke.

 

Spokane WA Chronicle
1 June 1912

 

Sadly, James Bedford Elliott, died suddenly at Jarrow-on-Tyne on 22 May 1906 after returning from a trip. He was just 60 years old. Though they had retired from cycling just before his death, his children kept their instrumental act going and in 1912 the Musical Savonas planned a return to America for a coast to coast tour.

 

In the notice promoting their performance in Spokane, Washington at the Orpheum Theatre, the local newspaper printed a picture of the Elliotts dressed in the same 18th century outfits but holding brass instruments instead of saxophones. With so many instruments, costumes, and stage props, the Musical Savonas traveled with more equipment than the typical shows of the time. This was the final golden age of vaudeville theater and the competition was tough for every entertainer. You had to find a hook to keep the public's attention.

 

 

San Fransisco Examiner
30 June 1912

 

In June 1912 the artist for the San Fransisco Examiner concocted a montage of the different headline acts playing the city's theatres that week. Borrowing from the same photo with brass instruments he places the Musical Savonas at no. 4. To the right, at no. 5, are the American stage and screen actors, Richard Bennett (1870–1944) and his wife, Mabel Adrienne Morrison (1883–1940).   {I'm not certain, but I think they are appearing in a play adaptation of Cabbages and Kings, a 1904 novel/short story collection set in a fictitious Central American country called the Republic of Anchuria. The author was O. Henry, aka William Sydney Porter (1862–1910) who happens to be a favorite writer of mine and who is buried in a cemetery just a 5 minute walk from my home here in Asheville, North Carolina.}

 

To the left of the Savonas are three men in Scottish kilts with bagpipes, the Gordon Highlanders. Next to them at no. 2 is a woman dressed in a kind of military tunic representing the Musical Nosses. They were another family band that played a wide variety of instruments and enjoyed a very long success playing the vaudeville circuit. I wrote their story in November 2020, The Noss Family Band - Practice Makes Perfect. And on the far left at no. 1 is another woman, Sophie Tucker (1886–1966). This Russian-born American singer was just getting starting in show business, but would soon be recognized as one of the most popular entertainers in the country. She was also earned a reputation as a comedian, actress, and radio personality, and went by the nickname "The Last of the Red-Hot Mamas".

 

 

Kansas City MO Star
14 September 1912

 

Later that summer the artist for the Kansas City Star made up a sketch of Mrs. M. Elliott with the Musical Savonas. She is holding an alto saxophone and dressed in an elaborate baroque gown. They were playing at another Orpheum theatre again, part of the Orpheum Circuit, a chain of vaudeville and later cinema theatres. It was founded in 1886 by the theatrical impresario Gustav Walter who built the first Orpheum in San Fransisco, and then expanded to other major cities on the West Coast and in the Midwest. This allowed the agency to make it profitable for an act like the Elliott~Savonas to tour the country following the major rail lines.

 

The few references that I found on the Elliott~Savona's music focuses on their arrangements of standard concert band works by composers like John Philip Sousa and, no doubt, others from the circus band repertoire. Unlike with formal concert groups, vaudeville acts usually did not print a program and were rarely given a proper artistic review by newspaper music critics. While this was the era of ragtime, the saxophone sound in jazz, blues, and rock music was still decades away in the future. Most likely the Musical Savonas, with their English background, played light dance music such as waltzes and polkas, patriotic tunes, opera overtures or arias, and maybe a bit of ragtime that was familiar to their audiences. There is no mention of singing though that's certainly plausible for talented musicians in a family band to do.

 

The Elliotts returned to England in 1913 and in the following year scheduled a tour of Australia. During the summer of 1914 they were in Sydney and Melbourne negotiating dates for a tour of Germany when war broke out across Europe. Fortunately the deal with a German theatrical agency fell through and in September 1914 the Elliotts were able to get back to Britain rather than be arrested as enemy aliens in Germany and placed in an internment camp. {For more on that sticky problem, read my story, The Role of a Lifetime}

 

 

 

London Daily Mirror
23 August 1916

During the war years, the Elliott men were now too old for military service, but as the Elliott~Savonas they served on the British theatre circuit, appearing often in London. In August 1916 they played the Palladium and the notice in the Daily Mirror was just above the classified ads for Missing Soldiers, heartbreaking appeals by family members desperate for any information on their sons and husbands lost and missing in action.

 

 

 

Illustrated Leicester Chronicle
13 July 1918

 

A photo of eight Elliott~Savonas with their brass instruments made the pages of the Illustrated Leicester Chronicle in July 1918. A fourth women was now part of the group. The grainy image looks as ancient as if it was taken in the 18th century. As the Elliott siblings were moving into their fifth decade they must have recognized that the musical times were changing. In a few years the Musical Savonas would play their last engagement, fold up their costumes, sell or give away their instruments. Like Mozart led to Beethoven led to Brahms, the music changed key and audiences moved on to different kind of entertainment. 

The Elliotts as the Musical Savonas, 1903
Source: University of Amsterdam, Theatercollectie

 

* * *

 

 

 

This story is based entirely on a quirky postcard of an oddly dressed saxophone ensemble. There were no postmarks or messages clues, only an English publisher in Bristol to mark the postcard's location. They looked like professional musicians. After all, who would dress like that unless they were paid? But it was impossible to know who they were or what kind of group they were without tracking down the single clue on the postcard's caption, Elliott~Savonas.

 

As a family band the Elliotts were not unlike many of the families of musicians that I've featured on this blog. They were talented kids, even gifted, and they had parents who fostered that inate passion for music. But unlike the other family bands, the Elliotts came into music after they were already established performers in an incredibly different pursuit. How many people try a career at trick cycling and then pick up the saxophone? And succeed? So many questions and too few answers.

We can't know at what level of musicianship the Elliotts performed on saxophones, nor for that matter, on what level their cycling stunts might be measured today. All we know is that they received generous praise for both and enjoyed a long career entertaining people around the world. That took skill, talent, and endurance to achieve. It's the first rule of show business. Box office sales prove an artist's worth.

 

The Cycling Elliotts were not the first bicycle circus act, but James Elliot's idea for his children were clearly innovative. It surely inspired other acrobatic families to imitate them and pushed the boundaries for extreme sports. How many boys and girls dreamed of getting on a bicycle after watching the Elliotts cavort around their revolving table? 

 

Likewise, the notion of a saxophone band was not new, but creating one out of a family of seven siblings who played a soprano, two altos, two tenors,a baritone, and bass saxophone? That was a shrewd choice by their father. And to dress them in 18th century costume? That was genius. I believe that countless people, adults and children, were inspired to pick up the saxophone after hearing the Musical Savonas perform. When the Elliotts first performed in the 1890s the public thought the saxophone was a peculiar foreign instrument. Even professional band directors were still trying to figure out where to place these shiny brass/reed instruments. Little did anyone know what fantastic music the saxophone would make in the 20th century. 

 CODA:

 

 

The Musical Savonas stopped playing in the 1920s, but that didn't stop the next generation from keeping the Elliott musical tradition alive, if not its trick cycling heritage. It is rare for me to find a detailed personal history on forgotten performers, but much of the story I've written here was first presented in a delightful biography, Tommy Elliott and the Musical Elliotts written by Viona Elliott Lane, Randall Merris, and Chris Algar.

 

Tommy Elliott, born Thomas Varley, (1902–1987) started his career in the British music hall circuit as a single act playing concertina and cornet. As a young man from South Shields, Durham he happened one week to be on the same bill as the Musical Savonas, where he met Hazel Elliott, one of Jame B. Elliott's granddaughters. A spark of mutual admiration led them to form a new troupe of eight musicians called Hazel Elliott and Her Candies which found success in the 1920s. Hazel and Tommy also fell in love and married in 1924, Tommy changing his name to Elliott. In the 1930s they started another variety group with other family members and artists that they called The Seven Elliotts. Then in the 1940s Tommy, Hazel and their daughter, Viona, one of the authors, then age eleven, became The Musical Elliots. 

 

After playing his concertina in music halls, cinemas, and variety shows from 1923 to 1980, Tommy Elliott had a career that put him on stage with hundreds of entertainment stars of stage, screen, and television. But this is really a story for another postcard. With apologies, I have drastically condensed Tommy Elliott's remarkable life into this postscript on the first Elliott~Savonas troupe, but I highly recommend downloading his biography to anyone who wants to learn more about this entertainer's history. The bit about Tommy playing his concertina in Berlin for Eva Braun, Hitler's girl friend is well worth the effort.

 

 

 * * *

 

 

As a treat for readers who have had the patience
to follow this story to the end,
here is a possible answer to the question I asked at the beginning.
What would Mozart think of the saxophone?

 

Maybe he would have set
his Eine kleine Nachtmusik
for an orchestra of 23 saxophones as played here
by the Mi-Bémol Saxophone Ensemble of Japan.

 

 

 

 Over the years I've featured several photos and postcards
of saxophone ensembles on this blog.
Longtime readers may remember my story
Sax Appeal about the Cadet Saxophone Sextet
who played the Pantages theatre circuit in the 1920s.
I concluded that story with a video of
The Moanin' Frogs saxophone sextet.
Here they are in a more recent performance
from our covid-19 era
in socially distant multi-box production
of Mozart's "Overture to the Marriage of Figaro."

 

 

 

 

ENCORE

One of my saxophonist friends sent me a link
to a YouTube performance of a saxophone duo
that is so appropriate for this story on
the cycling Elliott~Savona saxophone septet
that I feel obliged to share it.

Here is the University of Colorado Saxophone Studio in
"Saxophobia" by Rudy Wiedoeft. arr. Tom Myer.
 

The performers are:
Saxophone/unicycle:  Tom Myer, Lucas Hopkins
Piano: Er-Hsuan Li.

Now they only need to find a patent revolving table!

Double ENCORE!

About a year after I wrote this story on the Elliot-Savonas Troupe
I was browsing through the BRITISH PATHÉ YouTube Channel
and saw this next short film.
It is titled: The Elliots Issue Title Is Sea Shell Have Music (1936).,
It shows the next generation of the Elliot family
performing a mix of their comical music
on saxophones, trumpets, and other assorted instruments.
The film is dated 1936 and has SOUND!
Some of the costumes may date from previous productions
as seen in the posters I found of the first troupe.
Unfortunately there are no bicycles in this act.

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where fancy dress is all the rage.

 

The Boys Band of Cromwell, Indiana

 

Ever since the camera was invented
the most common decision photographers make
is where to pose their subjects.
For a sizeable group like this boys' brass band
a typical outdoor site might be on a bandstand; in a field;
in front of a building; or on a porch stoop.
Selecting a novel setting can be just as important for a photographer
as finding the best light or adjusting the lens.

Though today we might think it an unimaginative choice,
assembling everyone to take their picture
in front of an automobile
was once a new original concept.

 

 

 

 

It certainly made a more interesting photograph to place this small band, a group of 15 young boys, ages 7 to 14,  beside an early delivery vehicle. They are a true brass band with only cornets, baritones, valve trombones, and tubas, along with two drummers. It must have been an important occasion as their mothers have dressed them in their best suits with ties, starched collars, knee pants, and an assortment of flat caps and porkpie hats.

The postcard was mailed from Cromwell, Indiana on 19 September 1912 to Mrs. Sam Judy of Syracuse, Indiana, about 5 miles west of Cromwell as a crow flies. The card has an annotation identifying them as the Cromwell High School Band, but this is surely mistaken as none of the boys looks old enough for a secondary level school.

 

 

Dear Ant & family       ( X Ralph Mock)
We cannot come down
Sat as we are going to
have camp. W. Kneppers &
W. W. Kneppers & E. Stoner &
wife E Jones & wife &
Mrs M Iden and C. A.
Hougling are coming.
                            Ethel Iden.

According to the 1910 census for Sparta township, Noble county, Indiana, Ethel A. Iden was then age 28 and married to Charles E. Iden, a farmer. They had a son Oris C. Iden who in 1912 would be six years old and might be one of the younger boys, though I think they are older. As I interpret the X on the back, it marks the position on the front of Ralph Mock, the tallest boy standing 3rd from right with a cornet. Ralph lived 7 farmhouses down on the same census page as the Iden family and was the son of Fanny E. Mock, a widow. She was the daughter of William and Laura Knepper with whom she, Ralph, and her daughter Fay resided. Ethel's message was written in pencil, but the annotations were made in ink, so I suspect she or Mrs. Judy added them many years later.

To place them into a geography, Cromwell and Sparta are small farming towns about three miles apart in Noble county in northeastern Indiana. The largest city in the county is Ligonier which in 1912 had a weekly newspaper, the Ligonier Leader, that served most of the communities in the county. Every Thursday the paper published eight pages, each divided into 9 dense columns of tiny typeface, covering not just the news of the nation and world, but reports from every local town and hamlet in Noble county. Every social gathering, family visitor, illness, accident, crop harvest, business deal, and fish count found a place in this busy social network hub.

 

Ligonier IN Leader
18 April 1912

In April 1912 it was reported that in Cromwell, "Our juvenile brass band is learning fast under the direction of Prof. Hire of Syracuse."  That's a good match for the boys' band pictured on this postcard, though it's odd that Pro. Hire is not standing with his young musicians, but perhaps that's because he was holding the camera. From April to September the boys should have enjoyed a full summer of practice, learning a repertoire suitable for a public concert. 

 

In any case Prof. Hire or the photographer placed the Cromwell Juvenile Brass Band next to a motorized vehicle which I suspect was an unfamiliar machine for these farm boys. Henry Ford introduced his first Model T automobile just four years earlier in September 1908, but the first Ford truck, the Model TT, would not come off the assembly line until 1918. For rural communities in 1912 automobiles were a rare sight as they still depended on horse-drawn transport. Steam engines may have been the dominant power for industry and railways, but the great age of gasoline/petrol motors had begun. 

While it's possible that this vehicle was made by Ford or one of the other early automobile manufacturers, it is not a typical family car for 1912. I think it's a custom coachwork design for a tradesman as the chassis has a covered wagon box fitted with large windows on the side. 

 

Windows with beveled glass.

 

I can't think of any trade that would need a vehicle with fancy window glass like this, except for one—an undertaker. I think this vehicle is a hearse and that the windows on both sides and on the side door were designed to display full view of a casket as it was conveyed to a cemetery for burial.

 

If I'm correct, this may explain why the boys look so somber and even a bit dismayed.

 

 

1910 Cunningham Motor Hearse built in Rochester, New York
for Fort Worth, Texas undertaker.
Source: the Internet

In 1912 a motorized hearse was a novel idea for a trade that for centuries used a horse-drawn hearse. This image of a 1910 Cunningham motor hearse shows a similar box-shaped vehicle with large side windows covered in drapery. The curved side piece and lantern on the driver's cab is also a feature on horse-drawn hearses too.

 

 

1913 Peerless Hearse, Cleveland, Ohio
Source: the Internet

 The 1913 Peerless hearse follows the same design with very ornate lanterns and window dressings.

 

1912 Crane & Breed Motor Hearse, Cincinnati, Ohio
Source: the Internet

 

The early automobile journals are filled with detailed descriptions of all sorts of vehicles. In 1912 one magazine reported on the new Crane & Breed motor hearse from Cincinnati which could be fitted with either a 35 or 45 hp motor. Considering that a hearse was never required to drive fast, or far, or even often, the level of engine trivia in the description is amusing to read. 

Fort Wayne IN Journal-Gazette
14 January 1911

Unfortunately I found no reference to a "motor hearse" in the Ligonier Leader, but 30 miles south in Fort Wayne there was a 1911 report of a motor hearse. It was "the first of its kind in this section," and  carried a casket a distance of 25 miles in two hours and forty-five minutes.

 

 

Unmarked Hearse circa 1915
Source: the Internet

This last image of a motor hearse dates from 1915 and has the same long box construction with glass windows behind the driver's bench. The vehicle pictured with the Cromwell Boy's Band doesn't have the side lanterns and is not as ornate as these city hearses, but it does fits with the style, and I can't believe there was another business in Noble county at that time that would need a motorized wagon with bevel glass side windows.

As we can see, the boys are all well dressed and some even have a flower pinned to their jacket lapel. They are clearly made up for a special event and their solemn expressions could be a reflection of some kind of serious moment. But if a juvenile brass band actually performed at a funeral ceremony, I expect that would be noteworthy enough to get a mention in the  county's newspaper. 

 

Perhaps there may be another explanation.

 

 

 

Ligonier IN Leader
19 September 1912

By a curious coincidence on Thursday 19 September 1912, the same day Ethel Iden posted her postcard of the band, the Ligonier Leader published a very brief report from their Cromwell correspondent. "Our band of boosters started out Monday morning in fifteen automobiles, with the juvenile band, our sweet singers and a number of citizens with Rev. Gaff in charge of the megaphone. They visited Kimmell, Wawaka, Albion, Ligonier, Millersburg, Syracuse, North Webster and other towns."

 

In this era many small towns in America indulged in this kind of self-promotion using the novelty of the modern automobile to take a tour of their region. I've written two stories about a town in Kansas that did this and took a band along: On The Road in White City, Kansas, and Street Music in White City, Kansas. It seems very likely that the Cromwell Juevenile Band was taken along and had their photo taken that Monday. Three days later, Ethel was in Cromwell, saw the photo postcard at the drug store, and bought it to send her message to Mrs. Judy.  

It still doesn't explain the motor hearse. But my hunch is that fifteen automobiles with 15 kids and assorted adults would be pretty crowded unless there was a vehicle to carry the band's instruments. If the local undertaker wasn't busy that day and could be persuaded that showing off his latest piece of equipment was good advertisement for his business, a motor hearse would be the perfect way to carefully transport band instruments around the county. That's what I think happened that day.

And if you were ten years old
you would likely be thinking of this poem
as your photo was being taken.

 

 

The Hearse Song from
The American Songbag
by Carl Sandburg
published in 1927
Source: The Internet Archive

 

As I was searching for clues about hearses this week, I couldn't help but remember this old jingle which I learned when I was about eight or ten. The Hearse Song was popularized in World War One, but has roots that go way back to earlier centuries. It was collected by the great American Poet, Carl Sandburg, who was also an accomplished folk singer too. His home in Flat Rock, North Carolina, about 30 mile from where I live, is now a National Historic Site. 

 

There are a number of other contemporary versions of this jingle by performers who have altered the lyrics and turned it into a kind of macabre Goth anthem, which I think misses the point. Carl Sandburg recorded his version of the The Hearse Song when he was eighty, accompanying himself on guitar. It's the one I particularly like, so let's listen to the master's voice. He switches the two lyrics and sings the B verse first.

 

 

 

Did you ever think as the hearse rolls by
That some of these days you must surely die?
They'll take you away in a big black hack,
They'll take you away but won't bring you back.

 

The men with shovels stand all around.
They shovel you into that cold, wet ground.
They shovel in dirt and they throw in rocks.
They don't give a dam if they break the box.

And your eyes drop out and your teeth fall in
And the worms crawl over your mouth and chin;
And the worms crawl out and the worms crawl in
And your limbs drop off of you limb by limb. 

 

The old Grey Hearse goes rolling by,
You don't know whether to laugh or cry;
For you know some day it'll get you too,
And the hearse's next load may consist of -- you.

They'll take you out and they'll lower you down,
While men with shovels stand all a-round;
They'll throw in dirt and they'll throw in rocks,
And they won't give a dam-m-m if they break the box.

The worms crawl in and the worms crawl out,
They crawl all over your chin and mouth,
They invite their friends and their friends' friends too,
And you look like hell when they're -- through -- with you.

 

 Source: Representative Poetry Online

 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where everyone loves to go on a Saturday drive.

Our Music Room

Even without the Bösendorfer piano,
the premier piano manufacturer of Wien, Austria,
we know that this is a musician's studio room.
Flanking a painting of a mountain landscape are
two oval portraits of Beethoven and Mozart.

 

 

 

Further over on the wall is another framed print,
out of focus but still recognizable to musicians
as a portrait of Franz Schubert.
Atop the piano is a cello bow
next to sheet music marked Grieg,
for the great Norwegian composer and pianist, Edvard Grieg.

L. van Beethoven, W. A. Mozart, F. Schubert
Source: Wikimedia

 

 

The full photo shows a cello leaning precariously on a chair.
To one side is a splendid double sided wooden music stand,
designed for playing duets, or trios with the piano.
Together with the ornate coal fireplace,
the floral wallpaper, and the Persian carpets
it makes a charming interior photo,
a portrait really,
of a musician's favorite place.

 

Along the edge of this photo postcard
is a short phrase in German.

Unser Musikzimmer ~ Our music room

 

 

 

 The postcard is addressed to:
Hochwohlgeboren (High wellborn) Herr Karl Mrasek
of Wien IX, Liechtensteinstraße 64, III Stock (floor).
The message begins Lieber Onkel! ~ Dear Uncle!
and is dated 28 January 1928.
The handwriting is challenging for me to decipher
but the writer, possibly Karl's niece, signs it 
Resi(?) und Sigmund.

 

1928 city directory of Wien, Austria

There are four men named Karl Mrasek in Wien's 1928 city directory, but only one at that address. He is listed with an occupation of Pen. (using the odd symbol for long s in the Germanic Fraktur typeface) which I interpret as Pensioner or Retiree. Herr Mrasek is also listed in the 1915 Wien directory at the same address on Liechtensteinstraße, but then his occupation was Pvt. Bmt. which stands for Privatbeamter ~ private official, which was a term for a clerk in a non-governmental organization or company.

  

Today the building at Liechtensteinstraße 64, Wien, Austria still stands and Google's street view gives us a perspective looking up. If I'm not mistaken, Herr Mrasek lived on the floor second-down from the top, as the III Stock, or 3rd floor, would not count the ground floor.

 

 

 

Liechtensteinstraße 64, Wien, Austria
Source: Google Maps

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The photo of Resi and Sigmund's Musikszmmer is, of course, not in their uncle Karl's building, and there is really nothing in the photo to actually place it in Wien. Since the postcard's stamp and postmark were unfortunately removed long ago, their music room might just as well be in an apartment in Prague or Berlin, or even Paris. But even if it's not in Wien but somewhere else, with Wien's most famous composers on the wall it surely was a small refuge of Austrian musical culture.  

 

 

 

But what about the portrait on the piano
behind the potted plant?
 

It's position is nearly centered.

Onkle Karl could not miss it
as the whole set has been so carefully arranged.
I believe it must be a portrait of Resi.
Was she Karl's niece?
Or was Sigmund Karl's nephew?
And did Resi play the piano or the cello?
Some mysteries are best left unsolved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where no one can have too many books
as long as they have a library card.

The Well-dressed Violinist

 

 The violin is a versatile instrument.
In the right hands it's
capable of playing sprightly folk dances
or impassioned classical concertos.

Yet for each kind of music
the violinist must dress the part,
and today I showcase
four musicians, all unknown,
whose elegant attire defines them
as no rustic country fiddlers
but as first-class orchestral artists.

 

 

 

 

 

The first violinist is pictured in a 3/4 pose cradling his violin in what I call the preparatory position, as if he was just about to walk on stage and is testing the tuning of his strings with his right thumb. Though he is not wearing a tailcoat, his striped bow tie and dapper white vest suggest he is dressed for a daytime concert. He also has a medallion pinned to his lapel that could be an award for some musical contest. Sadly the sepia photo does not let us know if it is a blue ribbon prize. 

 

It's a fine portrait mounted on a small carte de visite card from the studio of C. Hj. Leverin of Helsingborg, Sweden at "hörnet af"  (corner of) Bärgaliden & Storgatan. The cdv format was still popular in much of Europe for many years after it lost favor in America, so I think this photo dates to the 1900-1910 decade.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The next violinist is seated looking directly into the camera lens. He holds his violin as if to display it for the viewer's inspection. He is also wearing a fine suit with black bow tie in what is probably concert attire.

His photo is also a carte de visite, taken in Warren, Ohio by L. M. Rice, "Duplicate orders filled at any time." My estimate is that this cdv dates from around 1875 or 1880. The photographer,  Luther Melville Rice (1826-1913), began working as a daguerreotypist in Leicester, Massachusetts in 1852. Sometime in the 1860s, probably after the war, he moved to Ohio where he operated a studio in Warren for many years until his death in 1913. This information comes from a former Sepia Saturday member, Any Jazz, whose superb website, CabinetCardPhotographers.blogspot.com  has examples and working history of hundreds of early American photographers.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

My third violinist is dressed in classic formal wear of white tie and tail coat. This gentleman also clasps his violin in a preparatory manner. 

This cdv was produced by at the studio of Georg Meyer in Braunschweig, Germany at Bankplatz No.3. The city of Braunschweig is in north-central Germany, east of Hanover, and is known in English as Brunswick. My guess is that this photo dates from the 1890s. 

 

It's interesting that in this era photographers all around the world tried to assure their clients of the same things. Herr Meyer adds a message on his business imprint, "Die Platte bleibt für Nachbestellungen aufbewahrt." — "The plate (negative) is kept for re-orders." I've often wondered how many clients took advantage of this courtesy to have duplicates made and how long might a photographer be expected to store a negative since these were usually made of fragile plate glass. 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

My last violinist is seated in a thoughtful pose looking like the intermission may have run too long. His violin is also tucked under his elbow with the bow caught by his index finger. The fabric of his black suit is so artfully draped that he could almost be modeling it for a haberdashery. His stached high collar, cuffs and white tie practically gleam. It is a very superior portrait.

This photograph is larger than the previous photos in a cabinet card size mount from Brown's Art Studio in Wyoming, Illinois. I was unable to find any information on this photographer, but the quality of the camera image and the style of card mount are likely from around 1895 - 1900. 

It should not have escaped anyone's notice that all four men have splendid long mustaches that mimic the curves of a violin. For a comparison of 'stache styles check out my story from June 2016, Grandfather's Mustache - part 1. Please be patient. I promise to post more grandfather's mustaches soon, as well as more well-dressed violinists too.

This was supposed to be my contribution to Sepia Saturday
but it seems the proprietor has closed his public house for the weekend.
Hopefully it will re-open soon.