The Telephone Girl

 

She's a professional entertainer.
You can tell just by looking at her dress.

Those specks on her gown are not dust motes.
They're dozens and dozens of sequins,
and like the engraving on her brilliant cornet,
designed to capture the stage lights
and dazzle the eyes of an audience.
 

 

 

Her photograph is mounted on a large boudoir-size matte that has a very greenish texture that was an unflattering choice for such a dark photo. On the back is a note written in pencil.
    

To my dear Maygret (?)
with love of
                            Amy
Telephone Girl Co.  1901

 

 

 

It's a nice dedication between familiar friends or relations, and since they knew each other, first names were all that was needed. I read the recipient's name as Maygret as it's possibly a rare spelling variation of Majgret or Majgret, but I welcome offers of alternatives. The writer, Amy, is surely the young woman pictured, and though she leaves no surname, there are two extra clues: a date, 1901, and a curious phrase, Telephone Girl Co. What could that mean?

 

There is a photographer's imprint on the lower right corner of the card stock, C. M. Hayes & Co., Detroit.  So my initial thought was that Amy must be from the Detroit area, or maybe from Michigan or Ontario, Canada.

 

 

Her fancy gown seemed the best clue as it looked more appropriate for a theatre stage than a college graduation. With that idea and using the year, it didn't take long to find the answer as to what the Telephone Girl Co. meant. In 1901 it was a touring theatrical show from New York City.

That Great Big City Success,
The Telephone Girl
Bigger, Better Than Ever. A Very
Costly Cast!   Elegant Scenery!
Gorgeous Costumes!
40–Expensive People–40

 

Little Rock AR Democrat
7 January 1901

 

The Telephone Girl was a musical composed by Gustave Kerker, (1857–1923), with a script by Hugh Morton, a.k.a. Charles Morton Stewart McLellan, (1865–1916), an American playwright based in London. It first opened in New York City on 27 December 1897 at the Casino Theatre at Broadway and West 39th Street. The composer, Gustave Kerker, was born in Herford, Westphalia, Germany but in 1867 at the age of ten emigrated with his family to Louisville, Kentucky. Trained as a cellist, Kerker's first employment as a teenager was with Louisville's German Opera Company where he began composing too. In 1879 he had some success with his first operetta, so he moved to New York where he became the principal conductor of the Casino Theatre. It was there that Kerker's musical career flourished, eventually earning him credits for 27 musicals and operettas. 

 

 

 

In 1897, The Telephone Girl was Kerker and Morton's fourth show produced that year at the Casino Theater. Since the previous December, the pair had presented An American Beauty, The Whirl of the Town, and The Belle of New York, which opened on 28 September 1897 but closed after just 64 performances having received mixed reviews from New York's critics. Despite this snub the producers moved The Belle of New York to another New York theater and in the following spring chose to take the entire Broadway production to London where it opened in April 1898. At the time its cast of sixty-three persons was considered the largest American ensemble to play London's West End. It ran for over a year to great success with an unprecedented 674 performances. 

 

 

Kansas City MO Star
6 January 1898

Like many operettas and musical comedies, The Telephone Girl was adapted from a French farce. Its plot revolved around a misunderstanding between Estelle Cookoo, a young French telephone operator, who overhears a phone conversation between her boyfriend, Hans Nix, a telephone inspector, as he makes an appointment with a music hall actress. The "telephone girl" Estelle decides to take the place of the actress at the engagement producing much confusion and silliness. Reviewers in New York and London thought the trite play was daringly risque if not indecent but because it was a musical, the story is explained with lots of songs, dances, and choruses. Here is a YouTube video of the piano version of music from The Telephone Girl. There's no animation, so I recommend readers listen to it as they follow the rest of Amy's story.

 

By 1901, The Telephone Girl had already played many times in London, Berlin, and New York again, so the producers put together a touring company for the American theater circuit. The novelty in the show's premise was that since in this era a telephone switchboard operator was strictly a female occupation, the musical had a large all-female chorus. Two of the "telephone girls" were featured in a musical number playing a cornet duet. I'm not certain if it was part of the original show, but by 1901, a noted female cornet soloist, Bessie Gilbert, was listed as part of The Telephone Girl company as it toured the country.

 

Typical of most touring productions the cast of The Telephone Girl changed to suit the schedule of the lead actors and the inevitable turnover that occurred between each season. In the summer of 1901, Bessie Gilbert left the show and a new cornetist was hired. Her name was Miss Amy Thompson and her hometown was Waterbury, Connecticut. So of course the local newspaper was proud to mention her name when The Telephone Girl was set to play Waterbury in December that year. 

 

 

 

 

Waterbury CT Democrat
9 December 1901

 

Two days later the theater critic of the Waterbury Democrat gave his review of the show.

Waterbury CT Democrat
11 December 1901

The merry musical jingle, "The Telephone Girl," n which Louis Mann and Clara Lipman formerly starred was presented at Poll's theater last night before a large audience. The play was written by Hugh Morton and the music composed by GustavKerker. A light vein of comedy circulates throughout the two acts. The musical numbers form the chief feature of the entertainment. The selections were rather catchy and the music was light and airy.  Irving Brooks played the part of Hans Nix, inspector of telephones, the character made famous by Louis Mann. He played the role in a pleasing manner. Ethel Robinson as Estelle Coocoo, the telephone girl, was clever and made a decided hit with the audience. All the other characters in the play were incapable hands and the chorus was somewhat better than the ordinary. The play was rather nicely staged.

 

A special feature of the second act was a cornet solo by a Waterbury young lady, Miss Amy Thompson, a stepdaughter of Peter F. Malone of this city. Miss Thompson received a flattering reception when she appeared before the footlights in connection with another young lady, a cornet player.  The solos were finely rendered and the the young ladies had to respond to several encores. A large crowd was present at the matinee this afternoon and another good audience is expected to be present at the performance to-night.

 

 

_ _ _

 

According to the 1900 census for Waterbury, Connecticut, Amy Thompson lived in the home of her mother, Joanne, and step-father, Peter F. Malone, a printer.  Amy was the eldest of six children: three younger school-age step-sisters, Elizabeth, Minnie, and Rose Malone; and two sisters, Louisa Thompson, 22, who worked as a Milliner, and Ada, 19, who was a Dressmaker.  Amy Thompson, born in July 1875, age 25, and single, listed her occupation as Musician. So when her photo was taken in 1901 she was 26 years old.

 

The idea of a female brass instrumentalist was not unusual in this era, as readers of this blog will know from the many photos I've featured here of female musicians and musical ensembles. By 1901 many women were recognized cornet soloists. Bessie Gilbert, as an example, was recognized across America by her advertisements and promotional postcards promoting cornets made by the C. G. Conn Musical Instrument Company. However, despite their proven talent, female musicians were not accepted as equals of male musicians in the professional world of music, and most had to resort to performing in all-female groups or working independent solo acts in vaudeville to make a carreer. This is what makes Amy Thompson one of the many forgotten pioneers of the early feminist movement for women's equality. 

In her small way
perhaps Amy thought she could help
turn things upside down.

 

 

Princeton IL Bureau County Tribune
11 April 1902

A few months after Miss Amy Thompson joined The Telephone Girl troupe, newspapers around the country reported on her unusual romance with another cast member, Mr. John J. MaGee. The two had formed a close relationship during the tour and mutually agreed that they should marry. The question was when and where, which was difficult to do as the show was constantly on the move. No sooner had they finished a performance than the troupe was boarding a train bound for the next town. Finally en route from Denver to Chicago, the couple decided to get hitched in Kewanee, Illinois during a spare moment before the evening concert. 

 

What made this newsworthy is that in order to settle a wager they chose to perform the ceremony standing on their heads. The parson at first objected, but the groom insisted that it was perfectly legal. So side by side they said their vows while upside down against a chapel wall. When they returned the manager reprimanded them for delaying the show. 

"We've got married," smiled Amy as she went up to the manager and showed her new diamond. "Don't scold. We had to do it to keep from quarreling all the time."

"Well, all right," said he, "we'll let it go this time, but don't let this occur again."

That was the story reported as in the Princeton Bureau County Tribune. In other papers there was a different slant that focused on a misplaced affection between John J. Magee and another member of the cast, a married woman, Mrs. Nadine Sydney. When she started a row, he quickly defused it when he announced his marriage to Miss Thompson. But in those reports Amy and John were married in Crescent, Iowa  and not upside down on their heads. Like most tabloid-type stories it occupied the attention of the nation for a few weeks and then it was gone. Was it true? Or maybe a publicity stunt?

What makes it special is the way Amy Thompson is clearly identified as a cornetist and a member of The Telephone Girl company. It seems clear that this is the same young woman in my photograph. So did she and John J. Magee live happily ever after?

Amy continued with The Telephone Girl troupe for at least another two seasons until the fall of 1903. John J. Magee did not. The reports never gave his age or background except to say he was from New York. With such a common Irish surname, there is no way to find him in the usual archives so he seems to have disappeared in connection to Amy Thompson. I suspect this was more likely a clever attempt at selling tickets to a show that was losing the interest of a fickle public.

Amy seems to have had some success on the vaudeville circuit. During the last stages of The Telephone Girl tour, Amy's cornet partner in her duo act was Ruby Marion Kendall. The two stayed together and played in a number of touring revue shows, usually headlined by a female entertainer. From 1904 to 1915 the names of cornetists Ruby Marion (dropping the Kendall) and Amy Thompson were found in vaudeville theater listings from San Francisco to Chicago to Boston and beyond. By 1909 they were describes as a "refined musical act" and played duets on French horns, trombones, and trumpets as well as cornets.

 

In the 1910 census, Amy C. Thompson was back in Waterbury but living alone as a lodger. Now with a middle initial, she was age 35 and single. There was no mark for widowed or divorced. She listed her occupation as Actress, Vaudeville, which suggests that she was doing more theater work than just playing the cornet. Under the employment column, Number of weeks out of work during year 1909, she answered 0. 

 

Ironically the last report I could find of Amy's career as an entertainer was a review of her performance with Ruby Marion in April 1915 published by the Detroiter Abend-Post, a German language newspaper in Detroit, Michigan. After that, any news of Amy Thompson, cornet player, seems to have vanished. Unfortunately the Waterbury newspapers after 1908 are not digitized which would be the most reliable source of information on her divorce,  marriage, (real or invented), or death. One distant family relation included her on a family tree that is connected to her step-father, Peter F. Malone, but there was nothing added for a spouse, children, or a date of death.

All that she left behind
is a dark photo a cornet player
surrounded by a faint gleam of sequins.
But it's just enough
to tell her story
in show business.

 

UPDATE:
31 May 2022

 

  Sometimes I can't let an open question stop the research.
Today as I was checking a different archive,
Old Fulton New York Postcards,
I found the answer.

The New York Clipper
23 May 1917

In the pages of The New York Clipper, a weekly newspaper for the entertainment world, the name of Amy Thompson appeared in its regular column, Deaths in the Profession.

Amy Thompson, of the Ruby Marion and Amy Thompson musical act, died May 8 at her sister's home, Providence, R. I., from heart failure. Miss Thompson was taken ill New Years while playing upon the stage at Leyman, Ind. These ladies have been together for sixteen years and were well known in the musical comedy, vaudeville and burlesque. Burial took place in family plot in Waterbury, Conn.

 

Amy Thompson was age 41,
just two months from her 42nd birthday.

 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where everyone is phoning it in this weekend.

Getting Around Old Wien part 3

 

 

The city's traffic was a mess.
Vehicles drove helter-skelter on the roadways.
Some lumbered along at a sluggish tempo
others darted about at breakneck speed.
Crossing a street could be dangerous to your health.
 

Life in past times may have moved at a slower pace
but it was no less chaotic than our modern times.
In old Wien one artist called it:

Die Fahrt nach dem Glück.
~
The Journey to Happiness.

Today I feature another series on the postcards

of Fritz Schönpflug (1873 – 1951),

a Viennese artist popular during the last decades

of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire.

He painted many lighthearted postcards

depicting the people and activities he observed

in his beloved city of Wien–Vienna.

The first postcard shows a busy street filled with horse-drawn carriages. It was never posted but Schönpflug's signature has the number 910 which corresponds to 1910 in the old manner of European dating. Though the automobile was beginning to appear on streets, Wien was still an old fashioned horse powered city.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The most common conveyance for getting around Wien
was the hired hackney coach called a Fiaker.
In this postcard Schönpflug depicts one
being pulled by a poor bony horse
with four jolly men who look like
they're celebrating a sporting event.
The caption reads:

Uns haben s' g'halten!
~
We've got it!

 

 I believe the German is written in an Austrian dialect style
so the translation may not be accurate
but I think it captures the sentiment of the men's enthusiasm.
The card has a postmark of 8 May 1905 from Wien
which must have annoyed Liebe Tante (Dear Aunt) Hermine
as it was stamped in the center of her nephew's message.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 On this next postcard a Fiaker driver
urges his scrawny stead to pick up speed
as he holds onto a large trunk belonging to his fare,
an old woman moving her possessions
which includes a canary in a cage.
The title reads:

Schnellfahrer mit Schachteln!
~
Fast drivers with boxes!

 

The card was sent from Praha, the Czech name for Prague
but the date is unclear. The writer has only 12/10
which is likely just month and day.
However Schönpflug's signature has either 907 or 909
so it is probably from before 1910.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the glory days of the Hapsburg Empire
Wien was filled with military men in uniform
who feature in many of Schönpflug's clever illustrations.
Here two women in a coach seem bemused
by the attention they receive from several officers.
Their stylish hats appear dull
compared to the soldier's flashy uniforms.
The caption reads:

Bei der Parade.
~
At the parade.

 

The card was never posted
but likely dates from around 1910.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Wien is noted as a very walkable city
but obviously not everyone is able to get around on foot.
Here Schönpflug shows a rather stout woman
being hauled by a small donkey cart.
The caption is:

150 Kilo Liebreiz
~
150 kilograms of charm

 

 

 This amusing card was never posted
but Schönpflug helpfully adds [1]909.
The skill and attention he placed
on painting horses and donkeys
suggest someone who loved animals
and surely Schönpflug condemned
any abuse of Wien's workhorses.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

In this last postcard Schönpflug paints
another bustling thoroughfare in Wien.
Coaches and horses seem to fly down the avenue
as a stalwart policeman stands in the roadway
presumably to direct traffic
or rescue pedestrians. 

The title reads:

Wien:  Im Prater
~
Vienna: In the Prater

 

 The postmark is partly unclear
but I think it has a date of 26 XI 08 or maybe 09.

 

 

 

The technology of early photography
limited the ability of cameras
to record motion and color.
Consequnetly vintage photos
portray people in static positions 
colored by a narrow band of black/grey/white hues.

But the only contraint limiting an artist
is their imagination.
Which is why,
besides his witty caricatures
and comical situations, 
I enjoy the way Fritz Schönpflug
illustrates Wien as a city
of dynamic action and vibrant colors.
These postcards are not just popular art
but a kind of time machine for history.
 

 

 

But in his time, a new photographic system
was developed that could capture movement.
As the cine film camera would prove,
movies were a kind of time machine too.
Here are two old films of Schönpflug's Wien
colorized by modern digital magic.
The first is from 1906
and the second one 1905 and 1915.
I like to think Fritz is in these films
sitting on a park bench with his sketchbook.

 * * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For more of Fritz Schönpflug's
postcards of Old Wien,
try these stories:
Getting Around in Old Wien
Getting Around Old Wien part 2

 

 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where everyone is waiting for the Number 22 bus.

 

 

 

The Tinplated Brass

 

 

 It's a special bond,
a love affair really,
that every musician forms
with their musical instrument.
 

Most often it starts
with the sound an instrument makes.
But players soon become attached
to their instrument's shape, its design,
and the material it's made of.

 

 

 

For brass instrumentalists
it's a combination of all of those qualities.
It's an affection for the shiny brass
and nickle silver tubing artfully twisted
into a curvaceous shape that lets the player's lips
sing a tone that no voice could match. 

Today I present four photographs of cornet players
who chose to have their picture taken
with the instrument they loved.
 

 

But their instruments are different
from modern cornets and trumpets,
as they are holding instruments
of two early American designs
now obsolete.

 

The photographs are also unusual
because each image was produced on sheet metal
as a unique tintype,
or more correctly called,
a ferrotype.

 

 

Eb and Bb cornets, top and side action,
1872 catalog, John F. Stratton Musical Instrument Co.,
New York City

Today the trumpet is the high brass instrument most people are familiar with. But in 19th century America it was the cornet that was the lead instrument in any brass band. Though they both use essentially the same design to amplify the sound of a player's vibrating lips, and are of the same length, the cornet has a slightly more conical flare to its tubing, while the trumpet is more cylindrical.  Pictured above are E-flat and B-flat cornets offered in 1872 by the  John F. Stratton Musical Instrument Co. of New York.

 

The earliest brass instruments were horns and bugles of a fixed length that were restricted to one musical key and a limited number of pitches. With the advent of the industrial age in the early 19th century, improved metal working techniques using new precision machinery inspired many innovations in brass instrument design. The most important development was a valve mechanism to instantly change the instrument's length and give the player a full chromatic scale. But instead of piston valves as seen on most modern trumpets and cornets, the first American musical instrument manufacturers like John F. Stratton chose to use three rotary valves. These were arranged in two different positions, either with the finger key action on top the cornet's wrap or on the side. 

 

In the catalog illustration the cornets on the left and top right use a top action rotary valve (TARV) where the player's right hand is placed atop the instrument, pressing down on small semi-circular keys that turn the valves. On the lower right is cornet with side action rotary valves (SARV) where the keys are longer and the cornet is held so that the tubing wrap is horizontal instead of vertical like on the TARV models. Each version had ergonomic advantages for the player but the sound produced was identical.

 

 

 

 

 

In this ferrotype photo a young man poses with his SARV cornet with one elbow resting on the photographer's imposing studio plinth. He's dressed in a nice three-piece suit and his hair looks freshly oiled by a barber, but it's difficult to judge his age, maybe between 15 and 20 years old. Since his cornet is typically 14 inches long, I calculate that his height is 4 times that length. making him around 4 ft - 9 in tall which suggests the younger age. 

 

Careful observers will notice that the boy's left hand is on the keys. This is because a tintype/ferrotype photograph is a positive image much like the reverse image made by a mirror. The light is reflected through a camera lens onto a photographic emulsion painted on thin metal sheet, typically made of iron but never, despite its name, of tin. It records a singular grey-tone image similar to the earlier daguerreotype and ambrotype photographs. Like those early photography mediums the ferrotype is a one of a kind and can't be duplicated. Later technology introduced cameras that made a negative image on glass plate or film which could be used to reproduce an infinite number of albumen photos.

    

Using modern digital software it's easy to reverse the image to give a proper realistic perspective of the boy. Now we can see that he parts his hair on the right. Even without the cornet the original photo can be recognized as a reverse mirror image just by looking at the buttons. On men's clothing, buttons are always on the right and buttonholes on the left, while women's garments are the reverse positions.

 

 

Eb cornets, side and top action
1868 catalog, Isaac Fiske Musical Instruments
Worcester, Massachusetts

 

The boy's cornet is an E-flat model which is shorter than the standard B-flat cornet and typically plays the high solo line in a brass band. In 1868 the Isaac Fiske Musical Instrument company of Worcester, Massachusetts offered models with either side action or top action valve made in either brass or German silver, which is a durable copper alloy using nickel and zinc to give a silver appearance while not containing actual silver. The Fiske catalog price was $55 / $65 for the SARV models and $60 / $70 for the TARV, which is roughly valued as between $1,200 and $1,425 in 2022 prices.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

My second cornetist is a dapper looking fellow wearing a light weight summer suit with a straw boater hat. Similar to the previous ferrotype, the photographer has added a delicate pink tint to the man's cheeks. 

 

Compared to the earlier daguerreotype and ambrotype photos, the technique to make ferrotype photographs was relatively easy and fairly cheap to produce. First developed in France in 1853, a tintype method was patented in the United States in 1856, but the popularity of the medium began during the Civil War period, 1861-65,  and continued through the 1880s.

 

The process used thin iron sheets cut into various sized rectangles and then painted with a black japan solution which creates the tintype's distinctive dark background. The photographer then prepared each little "tin sheet" with a collodion emulsion, either wet or dry, that contained suspended silver halide crystals. After the exposure was made a photographic fixer made of potassium cyanide was applied. Later a tint or varnish might be added. For a skilled photographer the ferrotype method produced quick and appealing results for their customers.

 

 

 

When the image is reversed the cornet player looks correct to the eye of a modern brass player like myself since his instrument now corresponds to the ones in the Stratton and Fiske catalogs.

 

 

 

John F. Stratton Co. musical instrument display
1876 Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition
Source: Free Library of Philadelphia: Philadelphia, PA.

For the 1876 Centennial Exhibition held in Philadelphia, the John F. Stratton Co. presented a large display containing a wide variety of instruments that they offered for sale. In this photo from the archives of the Free Library of Philadelphia we can see one side of a huge glass case is devoted just to brass instruments. Hanging inside are over-the-shoulder saxhorns in different sizes from treble to contrabass along with  multiple upright bass horns, trombones, French horns, and helicons. It was the great era of American expansion and brass bands were going to lead the way.

 

 

 

Eb cornets, side and top action
1868 catalog, Boston Musical Instrument Co.

 

Today most trumpet players use either B-flat or C trumpets for solo work. But in American brass bands during the 1860s and 1870s, the higher E-flat cornet was considered the premier solo brass instrument. In 1869 the Boston Musical Instrument Company promoted the E-flat cornet in both a SARV and TARV model as the choice of virtuoso cornetists. Perhaps knowing that many musicians can't resist a challenge the company shrewdly warned that the E-flat was "perhaps the most difficult to bring under control; it requires great strength of lip and strength of lungs  together with many years of practice to to make a good Eb Cornet player."  This copy writer knew how to charm a musician's heart.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

This next cornet player has a side action B-flat cornet which he holds across his chest as he gazes directly into the camera lens. I think he looks about 18-20 years old. I've left this image uncorrected in its original raw state to show the faded tone which is like many tintypes, very dark, (though not as dark as some can be.) The chemistry of early photography was more akin to alchemy, and it took skill and art to concoct a proper emulsion and place a subject in just the right amount of light. Very often photographers worked outside using natural sunlight and I think that was the case here where the background is a canvas sheet.

 

When the image is corrected for contrast and reversed it demonstrates the qualities that made it superior. The camera focus is clear with a good depth of field. Even though the plate has numerous scratches, has lost some emulsion, and even developed a bit of rust it still makes a very realistic portrait. 

 

 

 

 

 * * *

 

 

 

My last "tinplated" cornet player is preserved in a paper envelope that is not common to find with a ferrotype photograph. Like the previous young man, this musician is also staring into the camera lens as he holds his B-flat cornet in one hand and a folio of music in the other. He's clean shaven, a bit older, perhaps in his early 20s. He wears a dark coat with light seersucker vest and wool trousers with a stripe on the leg. It can't say if that stripe makes it a military uniform as there are no other insignia of rank or unit visible. But in any case, he is very well dressed.

The size of the paper mount is 2 3⁄8 inch × 3 7⁄8 inch (60 mm × 98 mm) while the photo is about 2 inch by 3 inch. After it was placed into the paper frame a smaller paper rectangle was pasted on the back to secure it.

 

 

 

The iron rust spots show that the paper is authentic with the little photo and it offers one small clue. Along one edge is embossed:

Potter's Patent March 7, 1865

 

 

 

 

This mark was for Ray W. Potter, New York, NY who received patent No. 46,699 for a “Picture-Card Frame” which he sold from his shop in New York as an inexpensive substitute for the more expensive hard shell cases used for daguerreotypes and sometimes ferrotypes. Mr. Potter's shop also sold those along with his paper mattes as he was a supplier to the photographic trade. But it doesn't link this cornet player to New York or even 1865 since the photographer might be anywhere.  It does however give a better idea of when it was taken, roughly sometime after the end of the Civil War, and most likely by a photographer in the Boston, New York, Philadelphia area.

 

 

 

Once again when the ferrotype photo is reversed
the cornet looks correct and another nameless musician
is rescued from the mirror universe. 

 

  

The nature of tintype/ferrotype photos did not leave any room for annotations or photographer's marks. Occasionally a date might be scratched on the back of the sheet metal or the paper mount or thermoplastic case might have a note attached. But they are very rare to find. This makes identification of ferrotype photos very difficult to impossible beyond just broad time periods and locations.

There were specially made cameras that on a single exposure could take twelve small ferrotype photos, postage stamp size 3⁄4 by 1-inch, called "gems". But each one had subtle difference of perspective based on its position behind the lens. There were also cameras that used a mirror or right-angle prism to reverse the mirror effect but examples of those are rare. There is one in my 2018 story The Big Brass which features  tintypes of the early over-the-shoulder bass saxhorns.

 

 

* * *

 

 

According to my blog counter, this story marks my 600th post for TempoSenzaTempo. When I began this blog back on 14 December 2009, with my aptly titled, The first post, I had no expectation that I would write so many stories, much less amass the number of musician's photos and postcards that are now in my collection. All I wanted was to tell the internet world about a few interesting musical photographs that I had found. A year and a bit later on 8 January 2011, I discovered Alan Burnett's wonderful blogger digest, Sepia Saturday. I left this comment on Sepia Saturday #56, "Great website. I hope I can contribute from time to time."  As they say, "the rest is history".

 

Now 565 Saturdays later, (I have skipped a few Saturdays) I know I've displayed countless more photos and postcards than just 600. I continue to take inspiration from Alan's themes every weekend and I take great delight in meeting other bloggers at his virtual pub to share old photos and stories. Thank you, Alan, and thank you, Sepia Saturday bloggers, present and past, for your friendship. I can't say what my final blog number will be, but I have a long way to go before I write The Last Post.   There are a LOT of photos in my collection and every one has a story that needs telling.

 

 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where watching the world go by

is always a treat.

 

Soldiers-at-Arms, the American Edition

 

Every soldier who ever served gets one.
(And sailor, marine, and airman, too.)
It's a record of their service,
a memento of their active duty,
a keepsake for the folks back home.

It's a photograph of themselves in uniform.

 

 Today I feature four photos
of unknown American soldiers
from the time of the First World War.
Each proudly showing off the service weapon
that they carried to preserve freedom
and defeat tyrants.

 

 

 

My first photo is portrait of a tall soldier
standing outdoors with his formidable double bass.
He wears the wool tunic and trousers typical
of the U.S. Army standard issue uniform in 1916-18
with a broad brimmed campaign hat pushed back on his head.
Unfortunately the photo print is too grainy to make out
the division patch on his shoulder sleeve or
the service insignia on the collar buttons.
However it was not unusual
for military bands to include a string bass.
It wasn't used for a marching band, of course,
but was performed in concert venues
where a tuba's sound would be too forceful. 

 

 

The second photo shows a U. S. Army clarinetist
striking a gallant pose in a woodland setting.
It's not a postcard but a cut-down card mounted photo,
so it may be earlier than the 1916-1918 era.
His campaign hat has a more pointy crown
favored by some infantry units
in the 1900-20 era.
 

His long overcoat, music satchel,
and the stripe on his trouser leg,
suggest he is in formal dress uniform
worn for an outdoor event.
His instrument is an E-flat clarinet,
the most deadly of musical weapons,
featured in my story from May 2021
The Well Dressed Clarinetist No. 4, the E-flat Edition.

 

The next soldier also carries a menacing instrument,
a little curved soprano saxophone
that despite its cuteness
is capable of inflicting dreadful firepower.

This bandsman wears a flat service cap
with a wreath badge that I've been unable to identify.
But his collar button has
the crossed muskets of an infantry regiment. 

More U. S. military saxophones can be found
in my story from October 2019,
Army Brass.

 

 

 

 

 

The last soldier is actually one of six U. S. Army bandsmen.
all dressed in the field uniforms
of General Pershing's American Expeditionary Force
with full equipment belts and classic British style helmets.

 

 

They are the trombone section
of an unknown battalion band,
but I think their collar buttons
have the crossed cannons insignia
of an artillery unit.
 

Why military tradition
would assign musicians
for either light or heavy artillery guns
is a question for which I have yet to find an answer.

 

 

Trombones generally hold the front line of any marching military band
since at the front of a parade
the bayonets on their slides won't bother other musicians, 

and a trombone's sound can always blast through any resistance.

These six young men served at a time
when the world's system of communication
was constrained by time and distance.
A simple postcard like this might be
the only means of sending a message home.
"I'm okay. Army life is not so bad."

What mother wouldn't treasure
such a valiant picture of her brave son?

 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where more soldiers await their marching orders.