Taking a Ride in a Flying Machine

 

Imagination is a powerful force of nature.
It drives ambition, enterprise,
passion and love.

In the early 20th century
a new mechanical marvel inspired people
to imagine themselves doing something
that previously had seemed impossible.

This invention opened up a new dimension
to human experience that was no longer limited
to just traveling on the flat plane of Earth.
For the first time people could visualize themselves
sweeping along with the clouds
and defying the laws of gravity. 

It was called an aeroplane,
a flying machine not unlike a carriage with wings.
Once people had seen this fantastic vehicle in action
everyone began to dream of taking to the air
and soaring through the sky like bird.

Today I present a few postcard examples
of how this romantic wonder once captivated people
to picture themselves flying. 

Safety was not a big concern.

Yet.

My first card shows a happy couple "seated" in a ridiculously tiny single-wing aeroplane flying high through a bank of clouds. The young woman wears a very large hat tied securely on her head by a long scarf and waves a handkerchief in salute. Her husband, who presumably has both hands on the controls, wears a stylish bowler hat and a three piece suit. The aircraft has a fabric covering, a single prop, and a pair of wings stoutly reinforced with diagonal rigging. Obviously the couple are posed behind a fanciful painted backdrop for this novelty photo. 

It's a charming portrait but what's more intriguing is on the back of the postcard. It was sent to Herren J. Haas in Berlin but can you identify where it was sent from? 

The postage paid was a Russian 4 kopeck carmine-red stamp displaying the Tsar's imperial emblem of a black double-headed eagle in the center. The postmark is dated "–8 1 12" which I interpret as 08 January 1912, but the letters around the circular mark are in the Cyrillic alphabet. It took some effort to decipher this, but the letters are Гапсаль, a Russian placename which translates to Gapsal in Latin letters. This place is now known as Haapsalu, a seaside resort town on the west coast of Estonia which was once part of the Russian Empire. 

The name translates as "Aspen grove", though it was the local sea mud that transformed this small town into a popular spa in the early 19th century. The supposed "curative" powers of Haapsalu's mud attracted many wealthy visitors from Russia's major cities, including members of the imperial Romanov family, who sought relief from a variety of ailments. Apparently several of Haapsalu's mud spas are still in operation today.

Not surprisingly, the message is written in Estonian. The first line translates as:

Thank you very much for
Raarseit(?) and I wish you
a happy New Year
and that all your wishes
come true this year.
The side of Kaaroli(?) is dark.
Is it fat? (?) Wishing you all the best 

In January 1908 the first Russian Aeroclub was established in St. Petersburg and by 1910 the Imperial Russian Army sent several officers to France for pilot training. Their instructors were French pilots who had trained under Wilbur and Orville Wright, the two American brothers who first introduced a functional airplane to Europeans in August 1908. The Russian military soon joined the international race to develop its own air force, initially under army command. 

The Sikorsky Russky Vityaz, 1913
Source: Wikipedia

By May 1913 Russians successfully flew the Russky Vityaz, the first four-engine passenger biplane designed by the Russian-American aviation pioneer, Igor Sikorsky (1898–1972). It was 20 m (65 ft 7 in) long with an upper wingspan of 28 m (91 ft 10 in). It required a crew of three but could carry seven passengers in its surprising large fuselage shaped like a tram car. The Russky Vityaz was capable of reaching a maximum speed of 90 km/h (56 mph) for a range of 170 km (110 mi) and a service ceiling of 600m (2,000 ft). However, I don't think it ever achieved these limits more than once, if at all, as this airplane had a very short life.

A month after its first flight in June 1913 it was severely damaged when another airplane lost an engine in a landing accident that struck the Russky Vityaz while it was parked next to the airstrip. Sikorsky built several other notable airplanes for the Imperial Russian army but in 1919, following the Russian Revolution and the end of WW1, he immigrated to America. There he would go on to develop flying boats and the first successful American helicopters.

* * *

My second image of a happy couple in the air comes from this postcard which shows an improbable flying boat that appears to be powered by a steam engine. The young couple seem unperturbed that their Jules Verne water/air vehicle is thousands of feet above the ground, higher than the birds. The machine has no propeller so perhaps it is made airborne by the flapping of its "wings" which strangely resemble fish fins. It even comes with an anchor.

This card was sent from Lausanne, Switzerland on 6 February 1905. That is four months before the Wright brothers made their first successful powered flight at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina and 3½ years before they debuted their Wright Flyer in France. Notice that the word "Post Card" is translated for 17 languages. Since Lausanne is situated on Lake Geneva, the notion of a flying boat probably seemed a practical and low-risk vessel.

 Ernest Failloubaz and his Blériot aircraft,
René Grandjean to the right, at the first flight meeting in Avenches, Switzerland
Source: Wikipedia

Switzerland has a list of its own aviation pioneers and Ernest Failloubaz (1892–1919) and René Grandjean (1884–1965) were the first. In early 1909 Failloubaz, at age 17 a motorcyclist and sel-trained mechanic met Grandjean, age 24, a former chauffer. Grandjean had a wild dream to build his own aircraft, "copying" a design from a single photograph of the French aviator Louis Blériot's single-wing aeroplane. The two young men collaborated in its construction which they completed in October 1909 and then started ground tests in February 1910 at a field in Avenches, Switzerland. As the plane's engine was not very powerful they decided that Failloubaz, who was the lightest in weight, should make the first flight. So on 10 May 1910 with Failloubaz at the controls their little aeroplane took off, flew straight for 150 meters, and then landed smoothly. A few days later Grandjean flew the aeroplane himself but crashed the plane. Nonetheless their accomplishment established their place in Swiss aviation history.

Ernest Failloubaz went on to participate in the first Swiss airplane events held later in 1910, using an airplane built by another aviator and set several Swiss records. He established the first flight school in Switzerland which opened in May 1911 and also helped start the Swiss Army Flying Corps. Sadly Failloubaz died of tuberculosis in May 1919 at age 26.

René Grandjean also became involved in air shows and in the early development of aircraft innovations. It was his idea to replace the wheels of an aeroplane with skis in order to land on snow, and he became the first pilot to land on glaciers. He then exchanged the skis for floats and made the first successful Swiss hydroplane or seaplane, winning several prizes. During the war he moved to Paris where he made a career in aircraft engineering with over 200 patents in his name. He did not return to Switzerland until 1956. Both Failloubaz and Grandjean were honored by their nation with monuments in Switzerland for their important achievements in aviation.

* * *

My third postcard depicts two young women and a gentleman flying high above a town in a biplane. It is not unlike the Wright Flyer as it has a pair of smaller elevators in front and a pusher prop in back. It's snowing and the trio are dressed warmly as a layer of frosty white snow has coated the wings and struts. They don't seem too bothered as they are enjoying the onboard drink service offering us a toast of some bubbly.  At the bottom of the illustration is a caption in Hungarian:

Boldog új évet! ~ Happy New Year!

The card has a postmark of (1)911 DEC 31 over a green Hungarian 5 fillér stamp which coincidently has an eagle soaring over the Hungarian crown, which at the time was held by the Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph. It was sent to someone in Budapest with a short message that was another alphabet puzzle to decipher.  I believe the Hungarian translates to "Please accept my wishes on the occasion of the wedding. Kiss me countless times." or something like that.

Hungary, which prior to the end of World War One was part of the larger Austrian-Hungarian Empire, had its own aviator pioneers. One of the first to fly was Guido Prodam (1882–1948) who flew a monoplane over the City of Budapest in 1911. Prodam originally trained as a pharmacist in Torontál County but tragically his wife died in 1910 after three years of marriage. He  quit his profession and moved to Budapest where he partnered with Ernő Horváth, a high school mathematics and physics teacher who was building a single-wing aeroplane. Horváth's eyesight was so poor that he had abandoned trying to be a pilot after a crash, so Prodam took over learning to operate his flying machine. 

Hungarian aviator Guido Prodam
with Hungarian aeroplane designer Ernő Horváth, circa 1911
Source: PestBuda

At noon on 4 November 1911 Prodam's aeroplane set off from a field near central Budapest. The aircraft was powered by a 35-horsepower engine and flew a circuitous route over the city to the Danube River and back, mostly at an altitude of 100m. The flight was successful but only lasted 12 minutes. Even so, many people in the city considered it a reckless stunt that rashly put the public in danger should there have been an accident. 

Yet Prodam did not stop with this feat. A few days later he set a new record for distance by flying 20 kilometers out from Budapest. This flight took 16 minutes, despite getting lost in fog and not landing at his original destination, Pécel, but in Maglód.

Then on 10 November, Guido Prodam attempted to fly over the Adriatic Sea in Rijeka. The flight went well but during the landing he lost control of the plane and crashed into the water.  Though he fortunately survived with only minor injuries, his aeroplane sank and was not recovered until several months later.  Finally in January 1912 Prodam passed the pilot's exam and received the country's third pilot's license.

During the First World War, Prodam served in the army but initially was deemed unfit to be a pilot as he was recovering from serious injuries sustained in a crash. However by 1917 he was able to join the Austrian-Hungarian flying corps. In February 1918 his plane was shot down over the Italian frontlines at an altitude of 4,800 meters. He survive but was taken prisoner. The injury was so severe that he became an invalid after the war and later lost his right arm. He died in 1948 but his exploits are still remembered in Hungary. 

I've added the extra aeronautical histories of these early aviation pioneers in order to show that the fascination of human flight was a universal dream. Orville and Wilbur Wright were certainly not the only inventors tinkering with making a flying machine as there were hundreds more from dozens of countries around the globe. Their Wright Flyer merely demonstrated the first practical possibility of powered flight. But more important was how it released a sudden torrent of  imaginative and creative energy that quickly inspired competition and collaboration from many other aviators. 

It also inspired song writers, too.

Come Josephine In My Flying Machine, published 1910
music by Fred Fisher and lyrics by Alfred Bryan
Source: Wikipedia

The illustration on this sheet music cover shows another young couple flying a Wright Flyer through the clouds. It's titled: Come Josephine In My Flying Machine (Up She Goes) and was composed by Fred Fisher with lyrics by Alfred Bryan. It was first published in 1910 and released as a gramophone recording by Blanche Ring who made it her signature song. The song was supposedly written about Josephine Sarah Magner (1883–1966), who in 1905 became the first American woman to make a parachute jump from a balloon. She married Leslie Burt Haddock (1878–1919), another early aviation pioneer, and became a fairground entertainer making hundreds of jumps. She also assisted Haddock in the design and construction of the first U.S. Army dirigible.

Here is a recording of "Come Josephine In My Flying Machine"
performed by Ada Jones and Billy Murray & Chorus.
It was recorded on November 1910, and released in 1911
on an Edison Blue Amberol cylinder.
The video includes lots of similar illustrations
of early airplanes and aviation pictures.

But for the best fun here is
"A Dash Through the Clouds"
a short silent comedy film produced
and directed by Mack Sennett.
It was written by Dell Henderson 
and starred Mabel Normand. 
Mabel gets to ride in a flying machine
at markers 1:25 and 8:30.
Not surprisingly the piano accompanist quotes
"Come Josephine In My Flying Machine" several times.  

The film maker used the services of a true aviation pioneer, Philip Parmelee, as Slim the pilot. Parmelee was a former pilot for the Wright Brothers and by 1912 held many aviation records. He is credited with making the first commercial flight of an airplane carrying a cargo of silk fabric; establishing a cross-country speed record in an airplane; setting a flying endurance record; piloting the first aircraft to drop a bomb; conducting the first military reconnaissance flight; and piloting the airplane used in the world's first parachute jump. I'm not sure if that was with Josephine Magner. Probably not.

Tragically Philip Parmelee died in an airplane crash at an air show in Yakima, Washington, on 1 June, 1912 shortly after working on this film. 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where some people prefer to keep their feet
firmly on the ground.

Portraits of Double Bassists

 

Every musician forms a lifelong partnership
with their instrument.
It's a bond not unlike that between
a craftsman and his tools,
but few hammers or saws
can inspire as much passion
as a musical instrument can. 

For a double bass player especially,
their instrument becomes a constant companion
whose voice, touch, and contours
become as familiar to them
as those of a spouse.

Some musicians take this love seriously
and would have no other.
Like a marriage, it's a commitment
that accepts all your partner's virtues and flaws
in return for a harmonious life.

You just have to learn to play the right strings.

Today I present
some vintage photos of double bass players
who demonstrated an affection for their instrument.

My first example of a double bassist comes from an unmarked cabinet card photograph. It shows a bearded man of modest height in his late twenties playing a bass in photographer's studio. A nice touch is including a folding metal music stand. There are dark marks at the bottom of the card that suggest a written caption but I've been unable to tease it out with digital tools. I can only guess that the studio was somewhere in North America but beyond that the photo remains a mystery. To my eye the man's striped wool suit and Prince Albert beard makes him look like a gentleman from the 1890s or 1900s.

* * *

My second bassist is more fortunate to be identified by a photographer and place even though his name is otherwise unknown. This gentleman is in his fifties and sports a very impressive full grey beard and mustache brush. He appears to be standing outdoors but I think the house window and garden fence in the background are a clever studio set lit by a skylight or large window as the low upholstered chair is resting on a patterned linoleum floor and not grass, gravel, or paver stone. The man wears a formal black suit, possibly a frock coat with satin collars, which fits the style of an professional orchestra musician in the 1890s and early 1900s. 

This cabinet photo was taken by W. Macfarlane of 339A High St. in Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, England. In the 4 May 1900 edition of the British Journal of Photography it was reported that: "Mr. Walter Macfarlane has purchased the portrait business of Greenway Brothers of 339a, High-street, Cheltenham, and is conducting it under his own name." Macfarlane was still listed in the 1914 Cheltenham business directory so that likely dates this musician to the first decades of the 20th century.

* * *

The cabinet photo of my third bassist is on a plain mount from another unknown photographer. This musician is dressed in a military-style bandsman's uniform and holds a double bass that has only three strings, which is unusual to find in old photos. But more unusual is to find a whole family history written on the back.

William Dring, *
Great Grandfather of
Mary Chadburn .

                                

He was Base (sic) player in

Long Eaton, Notts., 
                                police band.

    APPROX 1900 - 1920
* From 1901 census:  age 40 born
 Collingham Notts in civil parish
                                of Spalford
 Occupation  Potato dealer
 Three-string Lamy French Bass                                 circa 1890

_ _ _

The information was written, I think, by two different people who knew the man's name and something about his family. The detail of the 1901 census made it easy to find a William Dring, age 40 living in Spalford, Nottinghamshire, England with his wife Francis Dring, age 54. His occupation was indeed a "Potato Dealer, Worker at home". But how likely is it that a potato dealer would also be a member of a police band with a large string bass? I was skeptical that this was correct.

Since Ancestry.com allows people to upload pictures of their ancestors to their family tree, I checked to see if there were any images of a William Dring. Surprisingly there were several photos but only one of a man with a big brushy mustache.

William Dring
1857–1935
Source: Ancestry.com

Courtesy of someone's family tree I learned that this William Dring was born in 1857 in Carlton, Nottingham and recorded in England's censuses for 1891, 1901, and 1911.  In the 1891 census for Radford, Nottingham, William was age 35 and listed his occupation as "Police Constable". He was married to Ann Dring, age 34, and at that time they had two sons and two daughters. I think someone, possibly the dealer I bought the photo from, did some research on William to add to the name written on the back by a family descendant. Considering the number of people in Nottinghamshire with the same name it's not surprising that a mistake was made. But it is amazing that his proper identification depended on his mustache.

1891 Radford, Nottingham West, England Census

I think this photo dates from around 1891 as William looks about age 35, though with that stern face he could be older. The purpose of the photo might be to commemorate a prize-winning performance of his police band, or maybe a new uniform or even new instrument. 

The presence of a string bass in a band was not unusual as many concert bands (non-marching bands) of the time preferred a double bass to play the bass line as it had a lighter bass sound than was possible on a tuba. The three strings on the instrument were also not unusual as in this era British musical fashion followed French styles which used an older form of the double bass which had only three instead of four strings. Notice that this instrument has classic curved violin corners instead of the simpler viola da gamba form of the other basses. A sign, I think, of a more expensive instrument.

* * *

I can't miss an opportunity to add a pretty face to complete this medley of double bassists and put a stop to comments about beards. This young lady's cabinet photo was  taken in Mansfield, Ohio. Her name is Nell Ricker and she was a member of the Boston Ladies' Symphony Orchestra in the season of 1898-99. Since she is part of a larger history about this women's orchestra I won't show the back of the photo as it will give away too much of the story. Stay tuned and we will meet her again soon. 

To demonstrate the beautiful voice of a double bass
here is a performance by Korean Doublebassist Minje Sung

playing the ever popular Czardas by V. Monti. 

Minje Sung was the 1st place winner
of the 2007 Serge Koussevitzky Double-Bass Competition in Russia 

and also the 2006 Johann Matthias Sperger Double-Bass Competition in Germany. 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where fancy footwork is on display.

A Curious Wedding Party

 

It looks like a fairytale wedding.
In center place
are the dashing groom
and his enchanting bride.

Standing behind them
is a roguish fellow,
perhaps the city mayor 
who conducted a civil ceremony,
along with two of his deputies,
one of whom is carelessly smoking a cigarette.

To the right beside the groom
are his devoted sister
and a young cavalry officer serving
as his faithful best man. 
They are accompanied
by the officer's loyal sergeant 

and a boorish faced old gentleman,
perhaps the vice mayor.

On the side stands a sly looking footman
offering drinks to toast the happy couple.

Opposite on the bride's side
are her loving parents,
the tenderhearted mother
and the irascible father.
Curiously four soldiers stand guard
clutching their cavalry swords 
and doubtless trying to catch the eye
of the bride's pretty chamber maid.

Just as in all fairy tales,
this wedding is a strange affair
where we think we recognize the plot
yet strange and unexpected details
add questions that need more explanation.

The full wedding party of seventeen people
posed at a photographer's studio
in front of a painted backdrop
of dreamy garden of a grand palace.
The various principals and supporting characters appear real
but I hope readers will observe in the closeup clips I've provided
that there are some odd, even zany, faces in this group.
Could this be the cast of some comedy play or merry operetta?
Some of those mustaches look more fake than genuine.
And what kind of fancy wedding party includes
maids and butlers, not to mention ordinary soldiers?

It all very confusing as the wedding couple themselves,
a gallant cavalry officer and a cultured young woman,
seem quite authentic and believable.

The military uniforms have three star collar insignias and tall shakos
that are in the style of the armies of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire.
But I'm not exactly sure where they are from.

Adding to the mystery is that this is a photo postcard sent on 22 August 1914, just three weeks into the start of World War 1, by a soldier using the free military postal service. The message might reveal the story behind this unusual wedding party but the writer's script is much too twisted for me to make out more than a few letters. Even the address is too challenging to decipher. I think it was sent to another soldier using the name of an army unit rather than a place name.

Map of ethnic groups of Austria-Hungary in 1910
Source: Wikimedia

The Austro-Hungarian Empire, also known as the Dual Monarchy, was a huge area of central Europe united under a multi-national constitutional monarchy from 1867 to 1918. In 1914, the Emperor Franz Joseph ruled as both Emperor of Austria and King of Hungary in a military and diplomatic alliance of two sovereign states. The empire's official languages were German, Hungarian, and Croatian, but in many regions people spoke a different native language like Czech, Polish, Ruthenian, Romanian, Bosnian, Serbian, Slovak, Slovene, Italian, Romani (Carpathian), Yiddish, Friulian, Istro-Romanian, and Ladin. Each ethnic group contributed folk traditions, costumes, music, and stories that made the Austrian-Hungarian Empire a true melting pot of mixed-up cultures. It also inspired countless comedies, dramas, musicals, and operas that feature a wedding.

The questions raised by this peculiar photo of a 1914 wedding party may remain unanswered, but I think this ensemble is more theatrical than authentic. The characters resemble those found in a comical romance story from some opera or theater stage show. The picture looks like it was taken just after the final scene when everyone lives happily ever after and the entire cast has come out to take a final bow. The only group missing is the village band. Where are the accordions and tubas?  

The character who initially caught my attention
was the serious face of the bride's father
who looks more perturbed
By the extravagant cost of the event
than proud of his daughter's wedding.

Why is his face so familiar? 

I think the father of the bride bears an uncanny resemblance to the actor Kelsey Grammer. His high forehead  and receding hairline should be familiar to anyone familiar with Kelsey Grammer's role as psychiatrist Dr. Frasier Crane in the NBC sitcom Cheers (1984–1993) and its spin-off Frasier (1993–2004, and again in 2023). For more than 20 years combined, these two shows allowed Grammer to play one of the longest-running roles in television history.  

His official birthday is listed as 21 February 1955,
but maybe he is older than we think.

Or has he invented a time machine?

So many questions but little hope for answers.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where wedding bells are ringing.

That Talented Fellow from Pillow, PA

 

The client's props are all carefully arranged.
His violin hangs precariously by a peg
on a music stand with an open fiddle case
inviting us to leave a small gratuity.

On the other side a second instrument, a cornet, 
the premier solo instrument of the era,
is casually displayed in its case
along with some sheet music
as a testament to the musician's skill. 

Standing above these musical instruments is the player,
a young man with a thin whisp of a mustache,
who wears a bandsman's cap and holds an ink pen.
On a table next to him is an ink bottle
and a scattering of papers and journals.
Fastened to the shoulders of his suit coat
are military style epaulets that add
a curious mix of prestige and a little conceit
to such a youthful face. 

Who is this talented fellow?

I don't know.

But he looks like a musician
who wants us to listen to him play
something, or even everything. 

By far the most common photograph of a musician in the era of the cabinet card format, roughly 1870s to 1910s, was a cornet player as it was a very popular instrument. Violinist posed for photos, too, but in my experience there were not so many as cornetists. For a person to master both a string and a brass instrument was not that unusual in the late 19th century, but few musicians chose to have their portrait made with both. The way he holds his pen and a large paper sheet of printed music, suggests to me that he considered himself a composer too. 

It a shame that this photo came to me very faded, which I have corrected, but alas the photographer's camera did not pick up any detail of the sheet music in the picture. 

The photographer was Mr. J. S. Aunspach of Pillow, Pennsylvania. If he had only penciled in a number for the negative, we might be able to get a copy of this man's cabinet card portrait. Or an enlargement or a colorized version.

Pillow, which is north of Harrisburg and very near the great Susquehanna River, has the unusual distinction of always being a very small town, or borough as it is called in Pennsylvania. Since the 1870 census when its population was 299 and 2020 when it was 291, Pillow's population has averaged only 324 residents every decade for 150 years. 

According to the Pillow Historical Society, the town was originally founded in 1818 by John Snyder, a land developer from Mercer County, who called "Schneidershtettle". In 1865 after the Civil War it was incorporated as "Uniontown" but this conflicted with another larger Uniontown in Pennsylvania, so the post office or the residents took to calling it Pillow, supposedly after Major General Gideon Johnson Pillow, a U. S. Army general who distinguished himself in the Mexican-American War of 1846-48. However, this seems a strange choice as Gideon J. Pillow was born in Tennessee in 1806 and during the Civil War served as a brigadier general of the Confederate Army of Tennessee, playing for the losing side. 

The website for the American Battlefield Trust has a bio for Gideon J. Pillow (1806–1878) that begins with this extraordinary unflattering description of the man. 

According to Who Was Who in the Civil War, Gideon Johnson Pillow was “one of the most reprehensible men ever to wear the three stars and wreath of a Confederate general” (Sifakis 508).   It was reported that during the January 2, 1863 Battle of Stones River, Pillow hid behind a tree instead of leading his men into the fray.  His most famous action, however, is his roll (sic) in the loss of Fort Donelson.

In the Battle for Fort Donelson, a Confederate fort near the Tennessee–Kentucky border that protected the Cumberland River route, General Ulysses S. Grant led a Union army to capture this strategic fort. As the Confederate generals realized they were defeated and now faced imprisonment, they handed command to a junior officer so that they might escape before being captured. When Grant later learned that General Pillow, whom he knew, was one of these officers who fled, he was told by the junior officer who surrendered Fort Donelson that, "He thought you'd rather get hold of him than any other man in the Southern Confederacy," 

"Oh," replied Grant, "if I had got him, I'd let him go again. He will do us more good commanding you fellows."

Considering that the name "Uniontown" honored the victory and restoration of the United States, naming the borough "Pillow" after this man seems a very peculiar choice for people of Pennsylvania. Moreover, the townsfolk did not actually vote for Pillow to be the town's official name until 1965. 

I think someone either got very confused about General Gideon Pillow's background or was trying to make an inappropriate political statement.  Somehow the current residents of Pillow seem happy to let the name stand.

1882 Harrisburg, Pennsylvania city directory

In any case, the photographer, whose full name was Jonathon S. Aunspach believed he lived in Pillow, and so did the publisher of the 1882 Harrisburg city directory which included a list of all the businesses in Pillow. At the time it reported the town has a population of 300. Mr. Aunspach was the only photographer amid a good number of other tradesmen. He was born in Pennsylvania in 1835 and died in Pillow in 1908 at the age of 72. 

The young man's hat has a cap badge, but the three letters are not clear. The second and third letters are C and B, which very likely stand for Cornet Band. But the first letter is too wide to know for certain. Pillow, despite its small size, did have a band in the 1880s which is when I think this photo was taken. But a search for "cornet band" in the newspaper archives returned dozens of different cornet bands from around this region of Pennsylvania. So sadly this musician must stay anonymous, though I think it safe to say he was some cornet band's multi-talented leader.

If only we could read the cover page of the music he holds. There looks like a good clue in the title but I'm stumped to read the big printed gothic letters. Maybe Bnnrannon? What kind of word is that? 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where no one ever has all their papers and photos in order.

How to Make a Saxophone

The saxophone is a hybrid instrument.
Made of brass, its body is a conical metal tube
hammered, molded, and fused together
much like any trumpet, horn, or tuba.
But its sinuous shape is punctured with dozens of holes
that are fitted with an elaborate key mechanism
just as flutes, oboes, clarinets, and bassoons have.

So is it a woodwind or a brass instrument?

In musical terms it is 
classified as a "woodwind"

primarily because of how the saxophone's sound
is produced by blowing on a single cane reed.
(Though technically a reed is not a wood but a grass.)

But saxophone construction is very different
from other woodwind instruments
as seen in this postcard photo of a workman
operating a specialized metal forming machine.
The caption on the back tells us what he is doing.

SAX SOCKET PULLING

   Making socket for saxophone at C. G. Conn Ltd., Elkhart, Ind., world's largest manufacturer of band and orchestra instruments. Metal in sax body is pulled up to form walls of tone hole. Wall is then part of sax body. Socket can't come loose, tilt or leak.

 

 

This postcard was sent by Larry from Chicago
 to his grandparents in New Castle, Indiana on 3 November 1958.
{Remember, only YOU can prevent forest fires!}

Dear grand ma & pa

On our way to
Northwestern University
we stopped at the
Conn Music factory
for a tour. The gave
us a free lunch. This
week I am hound-dog
in the half time show
(We are playing elvis prestly
hound dog)
Larry

No doubt Larry's grandparents were very disappointed
to miss their grandson's performance on the football field.

1904 C. G. Conn's Wonder Improved System Saxophones

Thought we can never known if Larry played a saxophone in his high school band, whatever instrument it was it's very likely that it was made in the Elkhart factory for the C. G. Conn musical instrument company. Founded in 1876 by Charles Gerard Conn (1844 – 1931), this Indiana manufacturer developed into a major company that became a dominate cultural force in America with a factory of hundreds of skilled craftsmen producing thousands of band instruments every month. Cornets, trombones, euphoniums, tubas, clarinets, flutes, piccolos, and assorted drums of every size and type were made in Elkhart with each instrument individually identified with its own serial number. But in its early years Conn imported some instruments from Europe that were less commonly played in America. Most bands did not require many, it any, oboes or bassoons, and in the 1870s saxophones were an exotic foreign instrument that few American musicians had even seen or heard. For these instruments, Conn imported models made in France.

The saxophone was patented in Paris in 1846 by a Belgian instrument maker, Adolphe Sax (1814 – 1894). Like his other self-named instruments—the saxhorn, the saxotromba, and the saxtuba,  Sax designed the saxophone as a consort that came in several sizes from soprano to contrabass. He initially expected a saxophone could be played in both orchestras and bands, but the way its conical brass form easily amplified the saxophone's sound made it a great match for the dynamics of brass instruments. It soon became an important instrumental section in French military bands. 

In 1872 a talented Dutch musician, Edward Abraham Lefebre (1834 – 1911) immigrated to the United States. Lefebre was a skilled clarinetist and saxophonist who was hired by Patrick Gilmore for his Twenty-second Regiment National Guard Band, then considered the premier military band in America. Lefebre proved to be a virtuoso on the saxophone and soon became the leading soloist and proponent of this novel instrument in late 19th century America. In 

In 1888 one of C. G. Conn's talented foremen, Ferdinand August Buescher (1861 – 1937) produced a copy of one of Edward Lefebre's saxophones and persuaded Conn that his factory could make more using Lefebre, who became a member of John Philip Sousa's band, to promote the brand. So by 1892 the Conn company had a full line of "Wonder" Saxophones in six sizes, from soprano to bass, and in several levels of finish, from polished brass to gold plate with ornamental engraving. In 1904 the little B-flat soprano cost $85  if made with the top level silver-plated finish or $50 in basic polished brass. The price for a giant contrabass saxophone was $200 in silver or $105 in brass. Gold-plating was a special order and cases, velvet lined with nickel trim, cost extra.

 

This bird's eye view of the C. G. Conn Musical Instrument Factory in Elkhart gives a good perspective of this immense facility dedicated to turning wood, brass, cane, even rawhide into every kind of musical instrument imaginable. It's in stark contrast with how Charles G. Conn began  his music business in a very small way by making special cornet mouthpieces using a converted old sewing machine as a lathe. 

As a young man, Conn, a veteran of the Union Army, moved to Elkhart after the war where he tried his hand at different jobs, selling health care products, and working with rubber stamps and metal plating. He also played cornet in the town's band until one day he suffered a debilitating injury to his lip. In an effort to regain his embouchure he came up with an idea for a mouthpiece with a rubber rim that would reduce fatigue and prevent trauma to the lips. When other musicians expressed interest in it, Conn took out a patent and began making and selling his "elastic" cornet mouthpieces. This simple musical accessory led him to create an industrial factory that could mass produce any kind of musical instrument. 

This card was sent from Cincinnati on 11 October 1911 to Miss Clara Bayer of Ashton, Illinois. 

 

Dear Clara ! 
Don't get discouraged
As soon as I find out
where I am going
I will let you know.
Love and Kisses
from Rosie.

The postcard dealer added an annotation that mistakenly labels the picture it as the Conn factory before the May 22, 1910 fire. Actually this is an architect's rendering of C. G. Conn's new factory that would replace the one destroyed in May 1910. And this was Conn's second factory fire in Elkhart, too. 

On 29 January 1883, a fire broke out in the packing room of the C.G. Conn factory at the corner of Elkhart Avenue and East Jackson Street. Elkhart, like many small towns in this era, did not have a citywide water system so there were no fire hydrants. Instead firemen had to resort to pumping water from the nearby river, but tragically at this time of the year the river was frozen with 18 inches of ice. The fire destroyed the factory building valued at $55,000 but insurance only covered $22,000. The fire also consumed nearly everything inside the factory except for Conn's safe which contained all his business orders. He vowed to fulfill them within two weeks and his workers obliged by finding new tools to continue to make instruments.

Ruins of Conn Horn Factory,
May 22, 1910 Elkhart, Indiana
Source: Indiana Memory

Two months later Conn opened his second factory, hiring three times the number of employees that worked at the old factory. It was larger with four floors and was adjacent to another two-story building that Conn used for his music publishing department. The factory caught fire on the night of 22 May 1910 at 1:00 AM. Various causes for the fire were proposed: arson, faulty electrical wires, combustible wood dust or negligent watchmen, but nothing was proven. Once again the city's inferior water service did not have sufficient pressure for the firefighter's hoses and Conn's second factory was destroyed. Only a few instruments and business equipment were saved. The loss was estimated as between $100,000 and $500,000. Insurance adjustors paid just $80,000.

 

At the time Charles Conn was in California when the fire occurred. Of course he immediately returned to Elkhart but since travel then was by train he did not arrive in Elkhart until 26 May. He was met at the station by a huge crowd of well-wishers showing popular sympathy. There was a parade to take him to a hotel and 5,000 citizens lined the city's streets to welcome him back. After many years living and working in Elkhart, Conn had earned this respect by also serving as mayor of the city for a couple of years, and as a United States congressman from Indiana. 

Even though other cities like Pittsburgh, Indianapolis, Terra Haute, and Joliet, Illinois offered free buildings and other incentives for Conn to relocate his music instrument company, instead Conn was determined to stay in Elkhart and rebuild his business. As in 1883, Conn's loyal workers sifted through the factory fire's debris to salvage sheet brass and  other material and soon were back making instruments again in temporary workshops. Construction on Conn's third factory began at a new site on 15 August 1910 and by the following 12 December it was nearly fully operational. 

This colorized photo postcard shows the factory's grand frontage with its twin towers that give it a Spanish Mission quality that may have been inspired, I think, by Conn's trip to California. The ground around the building is still roughly graded from construction work. Notice the horse and buggy at the front doors and the collection of worker's bicycles leaning on the walls.

The postcard was sent from Elkhart on 19 August 1911 to Mrs. Samuel Dunfee of Wabash, Indiana. 

Hello All
Mamma just got
here we met her
at the train
hope you will all
get better.  we
are going home
now.  write us
every day.
your daughter
verner
Three rivers
R R 2.

C. G. Conn "New Wonder" factory, 
Elkhart, Indiana 1911
Source: Wikimedia

In advertisements Conn promoted that at his new third factory he employed "303 wage earners, of whom 250 are men and 53 are women. No boys or girls are employed. The men work nine hours per day and the women eight hours per day. The output of this factory averages about 800 instruments per month, no counting Bugles, Drums and Musical Traps and Accessories.   The Conn instruments are used and recommended by all great musicians and they will improve the playing ability of any performer at least twenty-five percent."

Conn's musical instruments were marketed around the country and many community bands bought complete sets of instruments at attractive credit terms. Conn promoted his instruments in a self-published musical news journal for music dealers called Trumpet Notes. It included many photos of town bands and instrumentalists offering testimonial praise for Conn instruments. Some of those postcard photos are in my collection. In many ways, C. G. Conn was like the character of Professor Harold Hill in The Music Man, except he really did bring a boys' band to River City and many other towns in America. 

C. G. Conn Band Instrument Co. postcard 
No. 17 Saxophone Department
Source: Wikipedia

Perhaps in honor of his dedicated workers, C. G. Conn had a souvenir brochure of the new factory  made in 1911 that included 44 photographs of the various departments. The photos were later released as separate postcards. Photo No. 17 was of the saxophone department. This large workroom, lit by large windows, is filled with dozens of work stations where workers are assembling saxophones. On tables and hanging from the ceiling are numerous components of unfinished saxophones. 

The full story of Charles G. Conn is a fascinating history of how one man could establish a business empire during America's industrial revolution. His success came from his relentless drive to make quality musical instruments at an affordable price. Conn certainly ranks with countless similar entrepreneurs of the 19th century who began with a simple invention or idea for an innovative appliance and then built factories to mass produce them. But sadly, like many of those tycoons, Conn's increasing debts forced him to sell his company in 1915 to a group of investors. Thereafter Conn retired to  Los Angeles, California where he died in 1931, though he is buried in Grace Lawn Cemetery in Elkhart. 

The new managers who took over his music instrument factory continued to operate it under the C. G. Conn brand name. Over the past 100 years, after many acquisitions, mergers, and restructuring, the Conn company continues in the 21st century to make musical instruments including saxophones. The headquarters are still in Elkhart, though much of the manufacturing is in other parts of the country or world. It is now owned by Steinway Musical Instruments which combined it with their subsidiary the Selmer Company to create the Conn-Selmer company.

Ironically Conn's foreman, August "Gus" Buescher, who helped introduce the saxophone to America, left the Conn company in 1893 to start the Buescher Band Instrument Company He didn't go very far either as he set up his factory in Elkhart, too, where over the following decades he became Conn's main competitor in saxophones, as well as other instruments. It was bought out by another music company in 1963 and closed in 1983.

 

 

This birds-eye-view postcard is an actual aerial photo of the Conn factory, taken several years after Conn left the company. The main entrance is still there but the facility has expanded with another smoke stack added. The worker's bicycles have been replaced with automobiles neatly parked in a center lot. There are also residential houses opposite the factory.

This card was sent from Davenport, Iowa on 18 September 1940 to Mr. Arthur Blocher(?) of Henry, Illinois.  I was unable to decipher the word "Hultquisto" in the sender's brief message. Is it a name or a greeting? The language seems Spanish-like but Google offers no clues.

 

 

                                             Aerial view of factory, C. G. Conn, Ltd.,
                   Elkhart, Indiana, world's largest manufac-
                   turer of band and orchestra instruments.
                   Occupies more than 200,000 square feet of
                   floor space and employs over 900 skilled
                   craftsmen.  Capacity output of 7,500 com-
                   plete instruments per month. 

As music evolved into the jazz age, the saxophone became the instrument most identified with this new musical genre.  The Conn company continued to bring out innovations on saxophone design like improved mechanisms and better materials that appealed to the increasing number of sax performers, both professional and amateur. It also tried making several variations on saxophones like a mezzo-soprano sax in the key of F and the "Conn-o-sax", a saxophone-English horn hybrid which failed to gain any traction with customers. 

 

C.G. Conn Factory, ship binnacles, 1943
Source: Indiana Memory

During the war years 1942 to 1945, the Conn factory stopped producing musical instruments and instead joined the war effort by converting its metalwork tools from manufacturing tubas, trumpets, and saxophones to making specialized military equipment. The Conn factory used its expertise in operating at very close tolerances to build aviation and naval instruments like compasses, altimeters, and gyro-horizon indicators. 

In this photo from 1943 Conn workers assemble brass semi-spheres to be used for ship binnacles that housed a ship's compass.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Among my individual photos of unknown saxophonists is this young man who posed with his giant bass saxophone. He wears some kind of uniform as he has high legging over his shoes and up to his knees. I initially thought he was an army bandsman, from roughly around 1915-1920. But his long sleeve shirt is not military issue, I think, so perhaps he is in some fraternal or collegiate outfit. I can't tell if it's a Conn sax or a Buescher or some other maker, but in any case, he seems pleased with his photo.

The card was sent, probably in a letter to Mrs. Wm. G. Bullis of Rosendale, New York.

 

 

 Dear Nettie,
How is this 
for your brother
in laws.  I took it
last Sunday in the 
parlor at home.
I am as every.
    Will

 So to recap, here is what you need to make a saxophone.

First, build a factory with lots of space
to store tools and materials.
Second, hire very skilled people
who can operate complicated machines
like a sax socket puller. 
Third, borrow some reed stock
that clarinet players rejected.
And fourth, make sure
you keep a fire extinguisher handy.

 

Or you can watch how it is done
at the Selmer Saxophone Factory
and then decide it's better
to order one off the rack and readymade,
rather than to try to make one yourself.

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where everyone tries to thread the needle.