This is a blog about music, photography, history, and culture. These are photographs from my collection that tell a story about lost time and forgotten music. Mike Brubaker
Most of the photos in my collection, maybe 98%, are of static people, posing motionless for a camera that is usually secluded in a photographer's studio. Therefore this outdoor photo is, for me anyway, a rare exception. It's a quick snapshot of an urban scene. A few dozen people have stopped along a city sidewalk to listen to a band. The bandsmen stand in a circle and actually seem to be playing music. The moment has a little added tension as a car approaches and the band looks like it is blocking traffic.
The camera was unable to get everything in clear focus and the sepia tones have the usual faded contrast which I improved. There is also no caption or postmark to identify location or date. On the back of the postcard are some numbers, a couple of sums written down by someone likely figuring out a price totaling 14.86, the $ sign being assumed.
The cardstock has a NOKO stamp box which indicated a brand of photo paper. The NOKO company used four different stamp box designs and according to a catalog on the now-defunct Playle's postcard website this version was popular from 1907 to 1929.
But there is a subtle clue in the automobile partly visible on the right.
The car's wheels are a simple spoke design, like an old horse-drawn wagon wheel. The fender has a broad open curve that connects to a running board. The motor compartment is a coffin-like box and behind it are lantern sidelights. All are features of an early automobile manufactured in the 1905-1918 era. I found a good example in a 1909 auto trade journal report about the new models being released by the Oldsmobile company.
There is too little of the car in the photo to make a positive match but I think the style is close enough to say that the photo could not have been taken any earlier than around 1908. Since there is another similar car wheel on the left of the street, that suggests this picture is closer to 1908 than 1928. Another clue is that the street appears to be unpaved. This is a small town, not a metropolis.
In the background on the right is a storefront with tall glass windows. Stenciled on one is Steam Laundry and hanging on the other side of the doorway a circular sign. But despite my efforts to digitally sharpen the image and contrast I can't make out anything except for a few letters. It's tantalizing to be so close to reading it, but who knows, maybe it was just an advertisement for laundry starch.
But the best clue was the sign on the next building:
Majestic
Special To Feature Night
Clearly it's a theater, or theatre, to use the fancier term, but the name is unhelpful as Majestic was once one of the most common names for a theater/theatre in America. There were hundreds of them in big cities and large towns that genuinely deserved to be named Majestic as they were built with multiple floors, grand entrances, and opulent interiors that could seat thousands. This theater with just a ground floor and a narrow width, maybe just 20 feet, is smaller than the laundry next door. Its archway entrance looks a bit decorative, if not exotic, but the remaining brickwork is plain and looks hastily constructed. That is a pretty low rung on the ladder of majesty.
But what drew my attention to this postcard is, of course, the band. This ensemble has around 17-18 men with an instrumentation of brass, drums and a few clarinets. The men are dressed in white military-style uniforms, not unlike those of laundry deliverymen, I suppose, that is typical for many small town bands of this probable era of 1908-1920. Except for one thing. Their uniforms accentuates the contrast of their face and hand complexion. This is a band of African-American musicians. In the American newspaper parlance of the early 20th century they were a "colored band". As demeaning as that phrase is in the 21st century, it does make for a convenient expression when doing historical research.
The automobile and the small theater are consistent with the era of live vaudeville entertainers and a time when cinema films were still silent and of short duration. The Majestic's "Special Feature" might have been a new silent comedy or western. Or it could have been a variety show troupe touring the vaudeville circuit. And this band of Black musicians might be one of the few professional African-American touring shows.
Or not.
Maybe they really were an amateur band of workers at the steam laundry. I truly don't know. The only facts are what we see in the photo.
But I couldn't help but look for a connection between "Majestic Theater/Theatre" and "colored band". The archive found a medium long list which I could filter by limiting the time frame and location, mainly to the southern states. (I tried including "steam laundry" too, but that only added more false trails.)
Marion KY Crittenden Record-Press 13 July 1911
In Marion, Kentucky a weekly county newspaper, the Crittenden Record-Press, ran regular notices of the town's Majestic theatre. In July 1911 it promoted the appearance of a "Troupe of 30 colored people band and orchestra "Black Diamond Aristocracy" two nights July 15th and 17th. At the majestic theatre."
Marion is the county seat of Crittenden County situated in western Kentucky about 10 miles south of the Ohio River, In 1910 it had a population of 1,627. Its Majestic theatre gave regular performances of touring dramas, comedies, and musical revues typical of the lower level vaudeville circuits. Unfortunately I could not find any address for the Majestic. It seems to have operated only from about 1910 to 1912.
But I did find a better report on the "Black Diamond Aristocracy" in a Greenfield, Indiana newspaper. Greenfield is about 300 miles north of Marion.
Greenfield IN Daily Reporter 13 June 1911
Jubilee Troupe
The Black Diamond Aristocracy Company will give a concert at the Rogers opera house Monday evening, June 19th. This is a regular colored jubilee troupe. Its members are selected by the President of the Southern Indiana Institute, and the entertainments are being given for the purpose of raising money to buy a farm where colored boys and girls may receive free industrial training. The troupe includes thirty people. The Pickaninny Band is a popular feature. The program includes "Down in Louisiana." "The Suwanee River." "Buck, Ben and Bald." "Just Barely Living and That is All." "Jubilee Whoop and Gospel Train." "Loving Joe." "the Old Kentucky Home." "Teach Our Baby That I am Dead." and many other Southern plantation melodies.
I make no claim for a connection between my photo postcard and the Majestic theatre of Marion, Kentucky other than it is purely a coincidence and it was possible. But my larger point is that here are two examples of how African-Americans found work in the entertainment industry of the early 20th century, despite enduring institutional discrimination, ignorant bigotry, and overt violent racism. It is a history that deserves to be remembered for the talent, determination, and tremendous influence these musicians had on our American musical culture.
The cornet, like all traditional brass instruments, is not very complicated. It has a small mouthpiece for the player to buzz their lips, three piston valves to lengthen or shorten the plumbing giving it a full chromatic range, and a small bell to amplify its sound. Compared to the finger dexterity and arm coordination essential for playing a string instrument like a violin, the skill set needed to play a cornet is pretty straightforward and relatively easy. Yet it still requires dedication to learn and a good ear to play it well, which is true, of course, for any musical instrument.
I think this boy's portrait shows a young musician shining with confidence in their natural talent and acquired proficiency. He is one of many boys and girls in my antique photo collection who once posed proudly in a photographer's studio with their cornet. In the 19th century children did not dress-up in athletic uniforms for a formal photograph because there were no school sports teams for kids. But back in the day, parents took such delight in their child's musical accomplishments that portraits of a boy or girl holding their instrument were very popular. And by far the instrument most commonly found in these photos is the cornet. And I have dozens and dozens of similar photos in my collection to prove it.
The full picture is on a cabinet card mount and shows this young man leaning on a faux stone newel post with his feet casually crossed. The botanical backdrop and straw on the floor gives an illusion of an outdoor scene. The photographer has also artfully placed him in a fading oval vignette. Unfortunately as the camera shutter opened the boy moved his wrist and the cornet is out of focus. I feel certain it would otherwise show some fancy engraving around the bell.
The photographer's name is not on the front of the card but on the back. It was taken by Paul Tralles of 309 Ninth Street (between D and Penn Avenue) in Washington, D. C. But the best thing about this photo is that the boy's name and a date are written on the back, too.
Before scrolling down to see the back, take a look at him again and guess his name. I bet you don't even come close. Here's a clue. It begins with the letter E.
The cursive handwriting is clear but has quick twists and it took me some research to figure it out. This young boy cornetist was called Elphonzo Youngs, and the photo was taken on April 10, 1885. He was generally know as Elphonzo Youngs, jr. being named after his father Elphonzo Youngs, a well-known grocer in central Washington. In April 1885 Mr. Youngs advertised 10 lbs bags of granulated sugar for $0.93 and one can of Pure Vermont Maple Syrup for $1.15. His market could also supply fresh oranges imported every week from Florida. Elphonzo Youngs's establishment was "the original no liquor grocer" and was just a block south of Mr. Tralles photography studio.
Washington, D. C. Evening Star 4 April 1885
Mr. Youngs and his wife Amelia's son, Elphonzo junior, was born in December 1870. It's unknown when the boy began playing the cornet, but Mr. Youngs' grocery was only a two blocks north of the barracks of the "President's Own", the United States Marine Band. And from 1880 to 1892 its band director was the celebrated John Philip Sousa.
On 13 January 1885 Elphonzo Youngs jr. played his cornet at an event that got him his first notice in one of Washington's newspapers, The Evening Critic, whose office happened to be across the street from the Youngs grocery. A few local businessmen on Ninth Street arranged a free dinner for Washington's newsboys. That evening over 350 boys, white and black, thronged outside a Washington cafe house. As the doors opened the boys rushed in though their boisterous excitement was tempered by a watchful local policeman. A local Sunday school superintendent was master of ceremonies.
"There were readings, music, and sensible short addresses to the boys. The boys were very attentive—often hilarious. They can sing. In the chorus of "Hold the Fort" and "In the Sweet Bye-and-Bye" they came out strong. They "lived" in the chorus. Good time was kept, and the boys seemed to enjoy the singing immensely. In the readings policemen were referred to several times. And when there wore such references, the boys gave Officer Harding, who stood at the head of the room, a benefit. Between a reading and a song a piping voice about the centre of the room called out "Say Skinny, do you 'spec we'll have turkey?" This brought down the house. Five little girls sang a lullaby.
"A small boy, Elphonzo Youngs, jr., who gave several airs on the cornet, was encored again and again. Plates were handed around by ladies, who looked very pretty and very business-like in their white aprons. They were treated with the greatest respect by the boys. The empty plates were held as if they were eggshells. When ladies appeared with the substantials there were "o-h-s" long drawn out and much subdued impatience. They were all served. They got a turkey sandwich, cake, apples and oranges and a cup of coffee. And they liked the repast. They ate heartily and for a few minutes wore still.
"They got away before 10 o'clock, having passed a vote of thanks to the ladies who bad entertained them.
"One feature of the evening was an address by Wm. Allen, a veteran newsboy. He urged the boys to let intoxicants and tobacco alone. It was a very successful entertainment in every respect."
I bet Mr. Youngs supplied the apples, oranges, and coffee, too.
1891 Washington, D. C., Central High School orchestra Source: DCGenWeb
Evidently Elphonzo attended Central High School in Washington as I found his name at a website devoted to the history of this school. He is in a picture of the school's orchestra taken from a 1891 school yearbook. Elphonzo is seated on the left with his cornet. He also sang and belonged to the school's boys vocal octet. He is marked standing on right. In other newspaper reports he was described as singing bass. In 1891 Elphonzo would be age 20 which seems old for a high school. The young men and women look more collegiate than scholastic. Perhaps the information on this excerpt for a yearbook is incorrect. But the caption does identify Elphonzo very clearly.
1891 Washington, D. C., Central High School Octette Source: DCGenWeb
Since his 1885 photograph, Elphonzo had played at many church events, speaker events, and private music school concerts. By the 1890s he was no longer a boy cornetist but a young man making a name for himself. Perhaps he was ready for the Big Apple.
Washington, D.C. Evening Star 9 July 1892
In July 1892 Washington sent a delegation to a huge national Christian conference at Madison Square Garden in New York, where over 24,000 people were in attendance. There was much music performed at this multiday convention which featured choirs of several hundred singers. They were accompanied by "two cornets in addition to a piano and an organ. One of the cornetists (was) Mr. Elphonzo Youngs, jr., of Washington, a player well known and deservedly popular in his native city. During the evening's session Mr. Youngs was the only cornetist in the hall, and yet above all these thousands of voices his cornet could be heard leading and supporting the singers. Mr. Youngs played also at the St. Louis Christian Endeavor convention in 1890."
Though Elphonzo was a talented musician he does not seem to have pursued a career in show business. Instead he worked for his father's grocery company which expanded to several sites in Washington.
On 25 December 1905 Elphonzo Youngs, sr., died suddenly after being seized by a chill that led to pneumonia. He was a native of New York and a Union Army veteran who, after the war, settled in Washington and opened one of the first temperance grocery firms. One year after his death he garnered some national attention when his will was released.
Central Law Journal, vol. 63 10 August 1906
The disgust of a layman with legal phraseology was shown in the will of Elphonzo Youngs, filed here yesterday. Mr. Youngs was a dignified, well-to-do gentleman, best known for thirty years as a deacon in one of the largest Congregational churches in Washington. He wrote his will himself, evidently starting out to copy from some book form, which set the example in this wise:
"Being by the grace of God in sound mind and body, and mindful of the uncertainty of human life," etc.
Then suddenly on the written page there appears a wild dash of ink and the following:
"Rats! This is too formal. All there is about it is this — at my death, I want my ever faithful and devoted wife, Amelia Loretta L. Youngs to have and control everything I possess."
In fact Elphonzo Youngs' last will and testament (available on Ancestry.com) was a bit longer—two pages—someone must have persuaded him to add a few instructions about his estate gifts for his son and grandchildren. Yet as wills go, it is still pretty succinct, even though that "wild dash of ink" is not really very wild.
Washington Post 5 July 1928
His son Elphonzo Youngs, jr., died on the 4th of July 1928 of a heart condition while visiting a friend. At the time he was employed as a clerk in the Veterans Bureau. His surviving family included his wife, Phoebe Youngs, and four children. Obituaries noted that he was a trumpet soloist for the Christian Endeavor Society. He was 57 years old.
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For more of my stories on young cornetists I recommend:
I wish to thank the unknown person who saved Elphonzo's portrait and whoever signed his name and date to this photo. Having that little extra information transforms an ordinary photo into a genuine human story. It's always a special honor to really meet a person whose picture now resides in my collection. If only we could hear them play.
It's a smile that gleams like sunshine. From just a glance we can recognize that this is a fellow of natural good cheer.
Likewise the shy smile of this young man reveals a person we wish we could hear more from.
And even though a smile might be hidden eyes can still invite us to stop and listen.
Such is the power of a good portrait photograph.
Today I present three photos of musicians I wish I could have met in person. They represent a mountainous region of central Europe called the Tyrolean Alps, whose folk traditions have helped define western music.
My first Tyrolean folk musician is a man seated on a rustic fence below a magnificent snow-covered mountain. He wears lederhosen - short leather breeches, wooden clogs, wool shin-socks, and a broad floppy hat. Besides his smile, what first caught my attention was the small instrument he holds. It's called a recorder, or Blockflöte in German, a woodwind instrument that is very rare to see in antique photos, and the only example in my collection. And what makes it even more unique is that it's a little sopranino recorder in F, the second smallest member of the the recorder instrumental family.
Recorders make a whistle sound and come in a wide variety of sizes. They are associated with so-called "Early Music" from the Medieval, Renaissance, and Baroque eras. Long ago in another life, I was a member of an early music consort that featured recorders and other forgotten wind instruments. For formal concerts we dressed in quasi-Renaissance costumes. I still have two handcrafted "peasant shirts", very like what this man is wearing, which my mother made for me. I also have about two dozen recorders.
This man's costume is characteristic of a rustic Germanic fashion that was worn in the Bavarian, Austrian, and Italian Alps. His cabinet card photo was taken at the studio of J. B. Rottmayer on Griessstätterstrasse in Berchtesgaden, a town in southeastern Germany, near the border with Austria, 30 km (19 mi) south of Salzburg and 180 km (110 mi) southeast of Munich. The town and its surroundings were once an independent state of the Holy Roman Empire. However during the turbulent Napoleonic era Berchtesgaden changed rulers a few times until 1810 when it was taken over by the Kingdom of Bavaria. In the 19th century it became popular with tourists and the Bavarian royal family, the House of Wittelsbach, who maintained a hunting lodge in the former Augustinian monastery in Berchtesgaden.
The Grand Hotel in Berchtesgaden, 1898 photo by J. B. Rottmayer (later Grand Hotel Auguste Viktoria, and from 1936 Hotel Berchtesgadener Hof.) Source: Wikimedia
In 1898 the photographer of my alpine recorder player published a large landscape photo of Berchtesgaden showing the Grand Hotel Auguste Viktoria. His full name was Johann Bapta Rottmayer (1828–1899). Born in Wien - Vienna, Rottmayer became a successful photographer first in Wien, and later established studios in Graz, Brno, and the port of Trieste. He made countless carte de visites of Austria's aristocracy and upper class, as well as grand landscapes, seascapes, and urban views. However he did not start a studio in Berchtesgaden until around 1898 and then died in 1899. So my photo very likely dates from 1898-1899.
This portrait has a novelty quality which suggests it was a holiday/vacation style photo made to fool the folks back home. It's not impossible that this sunny fellow was outfitted in a costume borrowed from the studio and given a recorder and walking stick to complete the illusion of a mountain rustic. Even so, it is still a terrific portrait that delights the eye.
Johann Rottmayer's name is still remembered because of his connection to a bizarre musical story. In October 1863 a group of medical scientists exhumed the bodies of Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1927) and Franz Schubert (1797–1828) who were buried near each other at a cemetery in Währing, northwest of Vienna. The purpose of this macabre disinterment was supposedly to prevent further decomposition to the bodies and establish more worthy resting places for these two great composers. After the skeletons were removed it was Rottmayer's duty to take a series of photographs of the skulls of both Beethoven and Schubert. Each body was carefully examined and measured and plaster casts were made of the skulls. Two weeks later the remains of both composers were reverently placed into new metal coffins and installed into vaults at the cemetery.
The 1860s were a time when phrenology, a pseudoscience that involves the measurement of the skull, was used as a way to predict human behavior, personality, and intelligence. In the case of these two famous composers, it was thought that their musical genius could be determined from the shape of their brain case. Needless to say, phrenology is a stupid and wicked theory that has been disproven many times.
To add further insult to the memories of Beethoven and Schubert, in June 1888 the remains of both composers were relocated to the Central Cemetery (Zentralfriedhof) in Wien.
(Since Rottmayer's photos of Ludwig and Franz show them in a rather undignified condition, I've decided they don't need to be presented on this blog. Better to remember them by their music.)
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In this photo postcard my second Tyrolean musician is standing in a photographer's studio dressed in longer lederhosen fastened below the knee, white stockings, sensible walking shoes, a wool jacket and a large hat with a long thin feather. The card's caption identifies him as Rudolf Hechensteiner, Zithermeister and on a table he displays his instrument, a zither. This string instrument has a strings over a fretted fingerboard and more open strings to add bass notes. It is usually played on a table which increases its dynamic resonance. Rudolf looks very young to be a master musician, late teens or early 20s maybe, but presumably the medals on his belt are a testimonial to his musicianship
The postcard was sent from Kufstein, a city in the Austrian state of Tyrol, right on the southern border with Bavaria. It's the second largest Tyrolean town after Innsbruck, the state's capital. The postmark imprint on the green face of Kaiser Franz-Joseph is not clear but fortunately the photographer, D. Amort of Kufstein, has left a notice Nachdruck verboten ~ Reprinting prohibited with the year 1910.
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My last photo is another string player, this time an older man with a contraguitar, also known as a Schrammel guitar. He sits in a photographer's studio with dramatic thunderclouds looming in the backdrop. He is identified in a caption as Seppl Lorenz. Like my recorder player, he is dressed in lederhosen, wool shin-socks, wool jacket and a classic Tyrolean hat with its distinctive Gamsbart plume, made exclusively from hair taken from an Alpine chamois' lower neck. His mustache conceals a hint of a smile but the photographer has captured a moment in his eyes that I think conveys a lighthearted spirit.
The card was sent from Chemnitz, Germany on 9 October 1919. I expect Seppl Lorenz earned those medals pinned to his jacket in the late war which may account for his good humor. Chemnitz is the third-largest city in the German state of Saxony after Leipzig and Dresden, and is about 260 miles north of Berchtesgaden, a long way from the Alps. But I think Seppl Lorenz's folk costume is enough to connect him to Tyrolean traditions. Certainly his Schrammel guitar is very much an Austrian instrument.
To finish here is the "Schrupp-Schrupp Polka" played on Zither by Balthasar "Hausl" Brandhofer and on Kontragitarre by Florian Möckl. Notice how bass notes are played on the contraguitar with the right thumb and on the zither with the right pinkie.
And to demonstrate how Tyrolean music is connected to dancing,
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.
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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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".
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 a web gallery of antique photographs of musicians. Most are of people whose names are now lost in time but they represent the many kinds of players, instruments, and ensembles that once defined musical culture. But these photographs also capture a moment in the history of people and places, so I write about that too.
All the photos shown here are in my personal collection.
For Best Effect Click on the Images for a Larger View
For information on my music for horn - go to the bottom of this column.
