The Music Stand

 

For reasons I can not explain

some vintage photo portraits of musicians,
almost always cornet players,
include an important but often ignored
musical accessory—the folding music stand.

The stands are simple metal contraptions
that add no decorative quality to the photo setting

and only serve a practical purpose
to hold a musician's sheet music.

The design of these music stands has changed very little
since they were first introduced in the 19th century. 

They are light weight, compact, portable and place
the music at a comfortable reading position 
for players of any height.

The odd thing is,
that with rare exception,
(A Tuba Player from Lowville, New York)
it is cornet players who chose 

to have a folding music stand in the photo.

I don't know why.

A slender metal music stand was
an unremarkable photographic prop.
It always came with sheet music,
sometimes clearly visible,
that emphasized or enhanced a musical quality
that was unstated but apparently once understood by viewers.
Trombone players didn't need one in their portrait. 
Likewise clarinetists, violinists, and drummers had their picture taken
without including a common music stand in the scene.

Yet many cornet players felt it was important
to have one in their portrait.

Again, I don't know why.

So today I present a small representation of anonymous cornetists
who demonstrated they could read music.

My first example is a cabinet card photo of a serious looking cornet player dressed in a fine bandsman's uniform and cap. He is unidentified but the photographer was Smith, of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, a city at the confluence of the Eau Claire and Chippewa Rivers, 100 miles east of Minneapolis, Minnesota. On the player's right is a folding music stand with an open folio of music. The camera has "almost" caught the dots in focus.   

The two pages have printed parts to four different compositions. The small size of each part remains the standard for band music even today. When pinned to an instrument's music lyre the part is about 12 inches from a player's nose. Only a few instruments lack an attachment bracket for a lyre. Snare drummers have one on the drum rim and bass drums on the body of the drum. But cymbal players have to memorize their parts. Flute and piccolo players have no room on their instruments for a music lyre and the instruments point toward the player's right side. Instead they use either a long stick with a lyre on it that is clutched under the player's armpit, or a lyre fixed to a wrist band. Pieces of flute and piccolo can sometimes litter a football field after a strenuous marching choreography of a halftime show.    

A second Eau Claire cornetist also had his portrait taken with the same music stand. He is younger  than the other man and clean shaven but wears the same style uniform and cap. His cabinet card is marked from Smith & Donaldson of 102 & 104 Kelsey St. in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. The young man must have paid extra for a premium photo mount as, unlike his companion's photo, his card comes with a very beautiful imprint on the back for the Riverside Art Studio of Smith and Donaldson. Notice the Grecian-Wisconsin maiden is holding a paintbrush and small card (photo?) as she contemplates an idyllic view of the river. 

Eau Claire's name is derived from the original French name, "Eaux Claires", meaning "Clear Waters". The city was first incorporated in 1872 when its population was around 2,300. By 1890 it could boast of 17,415 citizens. The partnership of photographers Frank A. Smith and D. W. Donaldson began in June 1887. But in August 1889 they broke up with Smith continuing the business. That would make these two photos with the double names of Smith & Donaldson and the single name Smith, to date from the summer of 1889. This Wisconsin region had several bands including an Eau Claire Cornet Band, but without clear uniform insignia or other clues to their identification these two cornet players can't be connected to a specific band. 

One last curiosity is the music on the stand. The parts are the same but in the second photo there is a pipe-like thing propped next to the music. At first I thought it was a penny whistle or fife, but it is actually an extra leadpipe for the cornet with its mouthpiece at the bottom. In this era cornets could use another leadpipe to shorten or lengthen the instrument and play in other keys. Why this player thought to add it to the photo is a mystery. Maybe just showing off.

* * *

This next cabinet card portrait shows both the cornet player and his music stand in full view. He sports an impressive brush mustache and wears a formal suit and black bowtie. His concentration on the music makes him appear about ready to play. The photograph was taken at the studio of Hooton & Aukland of Shelby, Iowa. Unfortunately I've been unable to find any records of these photographers. 

Situated in west central Iowa, Shelby is in both Pottawattamie and Shelby counties. It was first platted in 1870 during the great era of America's western railroad expansion and its population in 1870 was around 300. By 1890, which is about when this photograph was taken, it had grown to only 582 and has stayed about the same for the past century. However the big city of Omaha, Nebraska is only 35 miles to the southwest, so I think it likely that both the photographers and the cornet player were only passing through Shelby. The musician's fine formal suit suggests he was a professional entertainer, maybe a member of a vaudeville troupe rather than a band. The position of his music stand also implies his performance is of soloist quality.  

* * *

This next cabinet card photo shows a bandsman dressed in a uniform similar to the two fellows from Eau Claire. It's another full length portrait of both man and his music stand that appears to have them floating in the air as the floor and backdrop are all white. His instrument is technically not a cornet even though it has a similar shape. I'm not entirely sure what it is, but it could be a kind of bass trumpet or a variation of a flugelhorn. In either case it is much longer than a B-flat cornet but not quite as long as a valve trombone. I have other examples of the instrument and I just call it the big cornet.

The photographer was Heitkamp of Shakopee, Minnesota, another photographer whose business records are lost to time. Shakopee is the county seat of Scott County, Minnesota, about 22 miles southwest of Minneapolis. In 1890 Shakopee had a population of 1,757 and 2,047 a decade later in 1900. Situated on a south bank bend of the Minnesota River it is now part of the Minneapolis-Saint Paul metro area. This photo is nicely finished which feels more like late 1890s than 1880s, perhaps 1898, but that's a guess really. I imagine that one day Mr. Heitkamp took a couple dozen photos of each member of this fellow's band. All of them hovering in the air like angels.

* * *

My last photo of a cornetist with his music stand is a serious young man with blond hair and mustache looking directly at the camera. He is dressed in fine suit with pinstriped trousers. His collar is not a clerical collar but has a tie concealed by his coat. He looks German or Nordic to me. Unfortunately there is a glare on his instrument that covers any fancy engraving and likewise his music is bleached out. Nonetheless I think it is a fine portrait.

The photographers were Lowry & Towner of Helena, Montana. Helena was a city literally built on gold as the result of a discovery of gold deposits there in July 1864. According to Helena's Wikipedia entry, "By 1888 about 50 millionaires lived in Helena, more per capita than in any city in the world. They had made their fortunes from gold. It is estimated about $3.6 billion in today's money was extracted from Helena during this period of time. The Last Chance Placer is one of the most famous placer deposits in the western United States. Most of the production occurred before 1868. Much of the placer is now under Helena's streets and buildings." 

The two photographers Lowry and Towner seemed to have started operation in June 1888 and by the following summer of 1889 were gone. Helena also had a German language newspaper, Die Montana German Press and Montana Staats-Zeitung so it's possible that he was a German musician. His suit also reflects wealth more than the wild west. However I don't see him wearing a cowboy hat.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where some people are rather proud of their favorite chair.

The Swan Prince

 

The Swan Prince

   Once upon a time a handsome young prince named Sydney wandered away from his royal estate.  This prince, who happened to be a swan, considered himself a member of the winged aristocracy because long ago his great-great-great-great-grandfather was a royal swan of the King of England.  And that same lineage was shared by all swans as far as he knew.  They were all either princes or princesses.  Everyone else was just plain common. 

   Sydney was a curious fellow who enjoyed exploring new places and sampling exotic cuisine.  One day rather than follow his courtly flock to their usual freshwater ponds he decided to take a new direction.  Maybe for a change he would try someplace with saltwater, he thought.  As he flew over the maze of waterways beyond his estate he spotted a distant bay that looked promising.  There was something about its shape that seemed familiar.  Perhaps he might find some fresh eel grass or tasty little fish.  He banked into the wind and circled round to investigate.  

   After splashdown Sydney took a few minutes to check out the underwater menu before swimming into a tiny inlet.  He was surprised at how quiet it was.  Though a few boats were moored along the embankment there were no humans or noisy machines around. 

   Okay, he thought, this isn't as interesting as I thought it might be, so he turned back.  But just as he about to prepare for take off he saw a female swan floating near a bulkhead.  She was the most beautiful swan he had ever seen.  He couldn't take his eyes off her.  He paddled closer, pretending to forage in the shallow water.

   At first the little pen paid him no attention as she slowly spun in the gentle current of a rising tide.  She seemed disinterested in feeding with him and made no effort to graze at the seaweed by the boat dock.  Perhaps she just wasn't hungry, he thought.  Sydney tried a different approach. 

   He began with a few nonchalant wing flaps and feather combing.  When she remained indifferent, he ruffled more plumage and stretched out his curvy neck in that way the ladies like. 

   Nothing.  She was unimpressed and turned silently away as if he were not there.  Why was she being so aloof?  Sydney tried a few soft grunts in swan sweet talk.  No reaction.  Maybe she was naturally shy.  Afterall he was a prince.  Sometimes meeting royalty can trigger speechlessness. 

   The more she ignored him, the more enchanted he became.  Her small figure was oddly alluring and he found that twist in her head most beguiling.  Maybe she was not from around here.  She might be one of the tundra swan clan.  Unlike his flock, the tundra swans were great travelers and she might have strayed from her flight.  They were also pretty raucous, making a big racket heard for miles as they sped along their long trek.  He didn't understand much of their lingo, but he liked it better than the harsh squawking of the trumpeter swan clan.  His clan, being royal and all, never needed to talk so loudly.

   The way she rejected his advances made Sydney lose patience.  It was infuriating that she would rebuff his offers of love.  Her cold silence just made him angrier.  He was a prince.  No one ever turned away from him.  He pecked at her, lightly at first and then harder when she gave no reaction.  Furious he could not hold back and jumped onto her in a very un-princely way. 

   Suddenly with a flurry of bubbles the little swan pen sank beneath the water.  Sydney backed off nonplused.  That was not a swan-like thing to do.  Swans were not diving ducks.  Something was wrong with her.  What should he do?  He scudded over to the middle of the boat basin to think it over.

   A few moments later a human walked over to the bulkhead.  Using a long stick the man reached down into the water and snared the sunken swan.  He lifted her up and placed her on the dock.  Sydney could see that her legs were fettered with chains.  

   Now he understood!  She was a captive swan, probably bewitched by a sorcerer for some wicked design.  How cruel!  No wonder she shunned him.  She was surely restrained from talking to him by a very strong magic.   

  Sydney was heartbroken.  He had no idea how to release this beautiful damsel from the sorcery that bound her to this place.  He felt sorry for what had happened.  Swan princes could be very brave but also foolishly headstrong.  They were also not very good at solving puzzles.  There was nothing for him to do but gaze fondly at her one more time.  He bade her farewell for a love fated not to be.  Without a backward glance he paddled out of the inlet, never to return.  

The End.

This tale is a re-telling of an animal story that happened in May 1993 at my parents' former house in Virginia Beach, Virginia. Their home (which once used to be my home, too) was situated on Bay Island, a small island less than a mile inland from the southern mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. 

The back yard of this waterfront property had a fine view of Broad Bay which was part of the Lynnhaven River, a tidal estuary. That's the background of this picture of my parents, Barb and Russ Brubaker, taken when we first moved there. The tiny beach did not last long as countless storms scoured the island's shoreline forcing my folks to replace that original railroad tie bulkhead at least four times. (creosote timbers; pressure treated planks; aluminum slats; and finally granite rip-rap.) 

In the early 1970's my dad anticipated that his army career was about to end and he and mom decided that Virginia Beach was a perfect place for him to retire. They chose this house, a brick-built 1950s ranch style, because it was on a very quiet dead-end lane with just three houses. Two small side yards offered space for my dad to store cars, boats, and other junk. And along the front lane opposite was a small boat basin shared with a few neighbors that had with enough room for a half dozen shallow draft boats.  

That little boatyard became the center of my dad's next military career when in the 1980s he joined the U. S. Coast Guard Auxiliary. As a volunteer instructor and weekend watchguard for recreational boaters, my dad taught thousands of people how to safely operate boats, navigate, tie knots, and hoist sails. The picture here shows his last "big" motor boat. There were several others, and just outside the camera frame there were two sailboats, a rowboat, an aluminum punt, and a kayak. This boat basin is the setting for my story of "The Swan Prince".

When our family moved here in the 1970s the area was still semi-wild with a long section of Broad Bay that was part of a state park and then undeveloped. Many wildfowl like red knots, avocets,  brants, geese, etc. still used Virginia Beach's waterways for a rest stop during their annual migration across North America. It was also home to many more birds that inhabited the region year-round like herons, egrets, ospreys, eagles, etc.  In this photo my mom introduces her dog Lucy, a Cairn Terrier, to ten curious juvenile mallard ducks. The ducks are really just interested in begging for more corn feed. Behind Lucy is an unfinished paper-mâché animal, a cat, I think, that my mom made for her elementary school art classes.  

Here is Barb in her wooden rowboat out in the inlet with her previous dog Muffin, a West Highland Terrier. She named the boat, Mah Boat, and painted an Egyptian Eye of Horus on it after seeing it on boats in the Nile River during a tour of Egypt. Just beyond her is a small flock of mallard ducks. They were so tame and habituated to human activity that the hens would often build a nest right next to the front door. 

Here are a clutch of Canada geese cruising in the same place that Sydney the Swan shows up. Geese are  generally wary of humans and do not like to hangout with ducks. Some Canada geese migrate while others stay put. This is the second type, I think. They usually only came up on the lawn at night when they were more confident humans would stay inside. The location of their nests was more secretive but once the little geese were hatched they were a delight to see in family groups paddling out in the larger water behind our house.

Here is my mom again in Mah Boat, this time with the next previous dog, Katie, a Scottish Terrier at the bow. Despite her short legs, Katie was an avid swimmer who liked to dive for rocks. She also seemed to enjoy sitting under my chair as I practiced my horn. Few dogs or cats will do that without complaining very loudly.

This next photo was also taken by my dad, of course, one of thousands he took of his little boat basin and the landscape around it. This is the scenery for "The Swan Prince". My dad named his motorboat Micker, supposedly his childhood imaginary friend. The sailboat's name escapes me right now, but next to it by the shed is Mah Boat. A leak in the wooden hull had permanently laid it up, so my mom converted it into a raised bed/boat garden. She grew some excellent tomatoes there. Though it's hard to see, beyond Micker is another runabout motorboat and a sailing dinghy, both on trailers. My dad like to collect stuff.

So one day in May 1993, my mom saw a large swan out in the water by the boats. She alerted my dad who always had a camera at hand and he quickly went out to watch and take photos. This big bird had indeed fixated his attention onto a small fiberglass goose decoy. My mom had put it out  years before in a hope that it might attract some of the migrating wildfowl. It didn't. And neither did the fake heron, or the faux owl that she put up later. Most birds are not easily fooled. The exception was this one very amorous swan. 

The swan paid court to the goose decoy for some time, around a half hour or more I was told. I wasn't there at the time, so this is a family tale retold second-hand. Names were changed to protect the innocent. When the swan finally broke the decoy, my mother thought he seemed contrite and upset at what had happened. My dad rescued the decoy and put it up on the dock where the swan stayed around for a few more minutes until finally moving on. A few days later my dad submitted his photos to a weekly newspaper where two were published along with an account of this unlikely failed romance. My mom and dad always enjoyed telling this story and for years I always thought of it as a fairy tale come to life. I hope I haven't left anything out.

Sydney was a Mute Swan, Cygnus olor, identified by his orange bill topped by a large black knob. The species is native to Eurasia and was first introduced to North America in the mid-1800s to early 1900s as a decorative animal to adorn ponds in large estates, city parks, and zoos. Many of these imported mute swans escaped to establish breeding populations around the Northeast, Mid-Atlantic, Great Lakes, and Pacific Northwest regions of the United States. In some areas they are considered a harmful invasive species as their increasing numbers has an adverse effect on other waterfowl and can severely damage the densities of submerged native vegetation.

Mute swans mate for life and since medieval times they were often depicted in European art as a symbol of love and fidelity. They are also known to grieve for a lost or dead mate or cygnet. A male mute swan, called a cob, can range in weight from 9.2–14.3 kg (20–32 lbs), while the female mute swan, a pen, may weigh from 7.6–10.6 kg (17–23 lbs). In the wild a mute swan's life expectancy might reach 10-11 years, but in captivity 20-30 years is possible. Mute swans are actually not mute but make softer vocal sounds that are more like snorts, whistles, and hisses than the louder honking calls of Tundra Swans and Trumpeter Swans. 

My final photo of Barb and Russ Brubaker's home on Bay Island was taken on a very snowy winter day across the inlet looking back toward the house and boat dock. In the center is a flock of mixed ducks. They are hearty creatures who never seemed fazed by snow, ice, rain, or storm. There may be a swan in the picture too, but they're hard to spot since they are naturally camouflaged for snow.  

Chesapeake Bay, Hampton Roads, Virginia
Source: Google Earth 1996

This is a 1996 satellite view of the southern mouth of the Chesapeake Bay with the Virginia cities of Newport News, Hampton, Portsmouth, Norfolk and Virginia Beach. The southern boundary of this great bay is marked by Cape Charles is in the upper right corner and Cape Henry below. The thin line across the bay is the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel, a marvelous 17.6 mile bridge-tunnel complex that connects the Virginia mainland (near Virginia Beach) with the Eastern Shore of Virginia (aka the Delmarva Peninsula). Comparing this 1996 image with the satellite view of 2025 will show an appalling expansion of development in all the cities but especially along the waterfront areas. Today there is far less wilderness in the region and it makes me very sad to imagine what has happened to Sydney and his swan clan.  

The red dot marks my parents' home where they lived for 37 years. Unfortunately floods and storms became too much for them to manage dealing with all the boats, house maintenance, and their health issues, too. In 2007 they sensibly moved to a retirement community in south Virginia Beach. It had a large wetland pond and lots of semi-wild critters but it was not the same. Less than a year after selling the house on Bay Island a Nor'easter hit Virginia Beach and water came into the structure for the first time making it uninhabitable. It took three years before the new owner got the house repaired and raised 8 feet from its foundations, supposedly making it storm proof. Time will tell.

I've always been struck by a hidden pattern in the landscape of the Virginia coastline. You can see it in maps but it's more apparent I think in a view from space. It's a shape that always lets me find my former home. Can you see it? I've highlighted it in the next lower altitude image.

Cape Henry, Virginia Beach, Virginia
Source: Google Earth 1996

It's in a duck's bill as it twists to preen itself.
I believe a high flying swan would recognize it too.

My story of The Swan Prince
deserves some music.
Here is a beautiful rendition
of Camille Saint-Saëns, "The Swan"
performed by cellist Yo-Yo Ma.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where you should never feed a bird

unless you are prepared to feed its friends too.

Peruna Presents: Crockett's Kentucky Mountaineers

 

They were all there.
Albert was on bass,
Allen and George on fiddles,
Pauline, Christine, and Elnora looking very pretty,
and Johnny and Clarence on guitars. 

Little Dorothy and Sonny joined in the show

along with Glen Hardy,
and, of course,
Ma and Dad, too.

They played some snappy music
and sang a couple of old-time songs.
You should have seen them dancing.
They were the Crockett Family Kentucky Mountaineers.
They were swell!

This battered card, a half-tone print, is captioned:

Greetings from The Crocket(sic) Family, K.N.X.
and Peruna

What makes it a special souvenir is that someone wrote  the names of each member of the band onto the card. The Crockett Family were a country string band who called themselves the Kentucky Mountaineers. This card is a souvenir from when they performed on KNX, an AM radio station in Los Angeles, California, a very long way from their origins in Kentucky. This family band was started by John Harvey "Dad" Crockett, who was born in 1877 in Wayne County, West Virginia, but as a young man moved to Bath County, Kentucky. The University of Kentucky archives keeps a collection of the Crockett family papers and has the best biography of John H. Crockett with a history of his string band, which I will reprint here.

John Harvey Crockett, Sr. was a musician, music teacher, and maker of musical instruments who taught fiddle, banjo, shapenote singing, harmonica, and guitar in communities throughout the mountains of West Virginia and Kentucky. He married Admonia Jane Patrick of Tennessee, with whom he had eleven children, seven of whom lived to adulthood: Ethel (1898), George (1900), Clarence (1905), Albert (1907), Johnny (John Harvey Crockett, Jr, 1909), Alan (1915), and Elnora (1920).

In 1916, the Crockett family moved to California, where they lived for several years near Fresno. The Crockett children performed for their schools and at local dances throughout their youth. In the mid 1920s, the Crockett brothers were an early hit on the Fresno Bee radio station KMJ. The brothers sang songs written by Johnny, popular songs, novelty tunes, cowboy songs, songs from minstrel shows, and old-time songs that the boys learned from their grandfather, George A. Crockett.

The Crockett Family Kentucky Mountaineers was formed in 1926 and included all of the Crockett children except for Ethel. Earlier names of the group included The Crockett Minstrels and The Crockett Family Orchestra. Albert, Johnny, Alan, and Elnora, who grew up mostly in California, gravitated towards modern music and old-time music that they learned from elder family members. George and Clarence, who were rooted in Appalachia, always preferred the music of the hills where they and their parents were born and raised.

Following their success on Fresno radio, John Harvey Crockett, Sr. and his five sons played for stations in Los Angeles and southern California. In 1927-1928 the group signed with the Keith-Orpheum Vaudeville Circuit and became a headline act on that nationwide circuit. They toured vaudeville theatres throughout the United States and Canada, played regularly over the radio, and broadcast nationally from New York station, WABC. The Crockett Family Kentucky Mountaineers returned to California after their WABC stint and became the lead act on The Hollywood Barn Dance, a program on Los Angeles radio station, KNX. The Crockett Family Kentucky Mountaineers' final tour was of the west coast in 1936-1937. Family addictions to alcohol led to the downfall of the group, with George Crockett's death from alcohol poisoning (1941) and the suicides of Clarence (1936) and Alan (1947).

Before we go any further
in their story let's listen to 
Crockett's Kentucky Mountaineers
playing Buffalo Gal's Medley
in a recording made in 1931.

Though my picture of the Crockett family is the size of a postcard, instead of the usual stamp box on the back there is a small calendar for the year 1935. It has a title:

TRY PERUNA
TO HELP BUID UP
—COLD CHASING—
—COLD FIGHTING—
RESISTANCE

The band was led by John Harvey Crockett, Sr., "Dad", on fiddle and banjo, and accompanied by his wife, Admonia Jane, "Ma", and their five sons, George (fiddle), Johnny (banjo, guitar, vocals), Alan (fiddle, bones), Clarence (guitar), and Albert (bass, tenor guitar) and daughter, Elnora (vocals). The two other young women in the photo were sisters, Pauline and Christine Stafford, reportedly neighbors from Tennessee. The two children, Dorothy and Sonny, and the young man, Glen Hardy were likely extras used to add more youth to this family entertainment.  

Coos Bay, OR The World
7 May 1935

The group pictured on the card has 13 members but they usually toured with 10, as pictured here in a 1935 theater promotion in the Coos Bay, Oregon newspaper. By 1935 the Crockett family were seasoned entertainers having played on both vaudeville and radio. In January 1928 the Crockett Family (Kentucky) Mountaineers appeared at the Orpheum theater in Oakland, California as one of a half-dozen acts arranged around a featured film. A reviewer in the Oakland newspaper said "One of the greatest novelties which has ever played the circuit is the act of the Crockett Family Kentucky Mountaineers, whose old-time music and square dances are something really out of the ordinary."  

Oakland CA Tribune
13 January 1928

The film was "Show Girl", starring "Hollywood's newest sensation", Alice White, as "the hottest little hotsy-totsy that ever shook a scanty at a tired businessman." I don't think she did square dancing. The "Show Girl" was a semi-silent film with caption cards for the drama and no audible dialog, but it did use a new audio technology with a synchronized musical score and sound effects that used the Vitaphone sound-on-disc process.

One tune was not enough.
Let's have an encore!
Here again are the
Crockett's Kentucky Mountaineers
in a rendition of that great old-time classic
 Little Rabbit (1931).

In around 1927 the Crockett boys got their start on radio in Fresno, California at station KMJ. This station was one of oldest in America having secured its commercial license in March 1922. The first radio stations used an amplitude-modulated (AM) signal which, with enough power, could be picked up by listeners who were hundreds, or even thousands, of miles from the radio transmission antenna. Performances of radio plays and music concerts were broadcast live, and not pre-recorded. Over the next decade, as the technology of microphones, amplifiers, and receivers improved, radio shows were produced in front of a studio audience, which allowed performers like the Crockett family to appear dressed in costume. 

After some local success, the Crockett Family Kentucky Mountaineers were taken up by larger stations and then national networks. As more and more people around the country began purchasing radio sets, their infectious music quickly created a sensation in the new medium. This opened up opportunities for the Crocketts to tour the vaudeville theater circuit.   

Fresno CA Bee
2 September 1929

The Crockett's home in California was in Fowler, a little farming town in the San Joaquin Valley about 12 miles southeast of Fresno. On 2 September 1929 the Fresno Bee, which now owned the KMJ radio  station, published a front page feature and photo about the meteoric rise to fame of the Crockett family.  The popularity of the Kentucky Mountaineers was bringing them new bookings in major cities like New York City. They were publishing their own songbooks, starting a nationwide tour of vaudeville theaters, and planned to release new recordings. They were now reputed to earn $2,000 a week. Not eight weeks later, on 24 October, also known as Black Thursday, the American stock market crashed, marking the beginning of the Great Depression.

The people of Fresno seemed just as proud of the Crocketts as the folks back in Kentucky. The writer of the article explained their success this way:  

"The high praise that is accorded the Crocketts throughout the country is evidenced in the following review of their act, printed by a Denver, Colorado, newspaper: "In this sophisticated age, when there is consorted effort upon the part of the the majority of performers to be arty, Crockett's Kentucky Mountaineers offer such a startling contrast that they all but caused a riot. 

   "The parent Crockett and his five sons present such a picture as has not been seen here in ages. That they are authentic is plain to be seen. Without any flourishes they fiddle away at the old tunes familiar to every one, keeping time with their swinging feet. 

   "Then to disclose their versatility two of the boys sing 'Sipping Cider'—and how they can sing it. The baby of the family then fiddles a tune accompanied by his brothers. 

   "But the riotous feature is when one of the boys calls off the old fashioned dances and trips about the stage showing this generation how it is done, while the rest of the family provide. the melody. 

   

   "The family also have a. priceless possession, huge, shy smiles that will win an audience no matter what they do. Really, no one should miss this troupe if for no other reason than to be convinced that people can, in this day and age, be so ingenuous and present their talents with such disarming simplicity." 

The following summer in 1930 the friends and fans of the Kentucky Mountaineers learned that they would get a rare treat courtesy of the Fresno Bee. Albert Crockett, the bass player with the big grin, was to be married to Miss Josephine Phillips of Pineville, Kentucky. The wedding ceremony was to be held in New York City, but it would be broadcast live over the CBS radio network which included the Bee's KML station.

Fresno CA Bee
8 July 1930

The audience demands more!
So here again is 
the Crockett Kentucky Mountaineers
in Sweet Betsy From Pike.
It was recorded in New York City
in either January or February 1931

The Crockett family's national tour in 1935 followed a route familiar to many family entertainers over previous decades. It was a trail of theaters in cities and towns linked by America's railway lines. Early vaudeville in the 1890s had all live performers of course. Change was coming though and after 1910 entertainers shared the stage with a new fade—movies. The actors may have been mute, mouthing their words, but the films were certainly not silent as there was always an orchestra, a pianist, or organist to provide accompaniment. And as early feature movies were usually short, theaters still depended on live acts to keep audiences entertained while the film reels were changed. But by the mid-1930s movies with full sound and exciting cinematic action forced theaters to give up on house orchestras and quit booking live acts altogether. Vaudeville struggled along in smaller towns but it would soon disappear.

Casper, WY Star-Tribune
22 August 1935

In August 1935 the Kentucky Mountaineers appeared in Casper, Wyoming at the America theater. The local newspaper ran an advert which showed eight members of the "internationally famous" Crockett family onboard a horse-drawn farm wagon. They were radio stars from KNX Hollywood.  The movie feature was "We're in the Money", a romantic comedy film starring Joan Blondell and Glenda Farrell in a kind of "buddy" story. 

The Crockett family finished that 1935 season but despite their success, they seemed to have given up the vaudeville circuit and radio too. I could not find their group's name on radio listings or in theater adverts after 1937. Beginning in 1935 another group called "Uncle Henry's Original Kentucky Mountaineers" showed up in several newspaper, mostly in the East. Like the Crocketts it was a mountain string band, but with eight musicians. I suspect this band was produced as a deliberate imitation of the more famous Crockett family. It lasted up to the war years and then disappears.

From John H. Crockett's brief biography we learn that the Crocketts suffered some cruel sadness in their family. Their first loss occurred on 20 August 1936 when Clarence Crockett took his own life. After he had threatened his wife several times with a gun, she took their children and left their house. Shortly afterward Clarence shot himself. Tragically it was his father who discovered his son's body.

Oakland CA Tribune
20 August 1936

Such terrible events are a burden to any family, but for those working in show business, it can be even more stressful to keep performing. But the Crockett Family tried anyway, playing a show in December 1936 and a couple more in 1937. Yet like in all family  bands, the kids inevitably grow up and find other interests, start their own families, and pursue new ambitions. It was also the height of the depression which was affecting every industry including show business. After 1937 Crockett's Kentucky Mountaineers seems to have broke up. Some of the other family members found music work in other string bands and even in Hollywood, too. But newspapers did not record any further concerts of the whole Crocket family. 

John Harvey Crockett, born 1877 in West Virginia died in Sacrament, California in January 1972.

* * *

I don't know how influential the Crockett family string band was to the growth of Country & Western music. The Crocketts called it old-time music,  even though some of the boys wrote new tunes for their band to play. They were influenced by Grandfather Crockett and a family memory of Kentucky mountain songs and dances. At the time some newspapers called it Hill Billy music, or Barn Dance music. What it lacked in sophistication was made up by its infectious toe-tapping rhythms. But I think the real reason for the Crockett family's appeal was that they were authentic. 

This was an era when traditional folk music was still alive and unspoiled by commercialization. The Appalachian mountains, from Alabama to Maine, were home to a mix of many cultures that in the 1930s were still very much isolated from the rest of America. By moving to California the Crockett family managed to take advantage of two new mediums—radio and recording. For a brief few years their genuine mountain music entertained American audiences with a sound that was fresh and novel. Eventually the world would recognize Appalachian music for its roots in Scotland, Ireland, Africa, and other musical cultures. For the Crocketts I think it was all about playing homemade music that kept you dancing on your toes.

  

Readers who have got this far may ask,
"Wait! What's the deal about Peruna?"

St Louis, MO Republic
28 February 1901

Peruna, or Pe-ru-na as it was sometimes called, was a patent medicine concocted by Samuel Brubaker Hartman,1830–1918, and sold to the public at great profit in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Peruna was purported to cure catarrh, a general purpose word for inflammation that covered all manner of ailments in the human body. Hartman was a trained physician and surgeon but his true talent was as a quack doctor. 

When his patients complained that their pharmacists were not preparing his prescriptions correctly, Hartman decided to manufacture his own special cure-all medicine. He called it Peruna and began selling it in 1885. He claimed it was beneficial for anyone suffering from pneumonia; tuberculosis; grippe – influenza; the common cold – catarrh of the lungs; canker sores – catarrh of the mouth; appendicitis – catarrh of the appendix; chronic indigestion – catarrh of the stomach; mumps – catarrh of the glands; Bright's disease – cattarh of the kidneys; and Yellow fever. It could also help people gain weight.

This wonder drug became a miraculous tonic, a magic elixir that was advertised in thousands of newspapers and magazines. Peruna was endorsed by hundreds of politicians, military officers, and other prominent dignitaries and received testimonials of its wonderous qualities from countless ordinary people. It made Hartman a very wealthy man. 

In 1905, Collier's magazine published a series of eleven articles by the journalist Samuel Hopkins Adams entitled "The Great American Fraud". In his report Adams exposed Peruna and other patent medicines as complete frauds and, in some cases, dangerous due to toxic substances. The only active ingredient in Peruna was 28% ethanol. Supposedly it was at least better than other panaceas which used opium and cocaine as ingredients. Adams' work was widely read and it led to the passage of the Pure Food and Drug Act of 1906. 

However Peruna continued to be manufactured though now under a different formula with less alcohol. After his death in 1918, Samuel Brubaker Hartman's company (No relation to me that I know of. Yet.)  stayed in business selling its fantastic brew to foolish people desperate to find cheap cures. 

By 1935 Peruna was still sold to the public but it was now just an ordinary household brand name. But in order to promote sales the Peruna company began sponsoring radio programs and musical artists. What I did not know until I began doing research on the Crockett family this week was that Peruna sponsored other radio bands too. There are promotional cards for Western, country, swing bands and more, all with a calendar for 1935 printed on the back.

Thus a new genre in my collection has begun—the Peruna Presents series. Stayed tuned for the next episode.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where everyone is tuned to their radio, 

so

DON'T TOUCH THAT DIAL!