The Well-dressed Cellist

 

The cello, or violoncello as it is called in Italian,
is a common string instrument,
but in my collection of antique musician photographs
a portrait of a cellist is very uncommon. 

Compared to its smaller cousin the violin,
a cello is obviously a much larger instrument
which requires true commitment from anyone
who chooses to play one as they are then obliged
to lug it around in a big case and
always reserve an extra seat for it

when traveling on a bus/train/plane.  

Its size also gives the cello a stronger voice
so that an orchestra needs far fewer cellists than violinists
to balance the ensemble's dynamics.
Generally that means
that for every cello there are about four violins.
And so it goes for photo portraits too.

Today I present three well-dressed cellists.
Each man wearing his best concert outfit for the camera.
And each one, I believe, a professional musician.

My first cellist looks directly into the camera lens as he sits for his portrait with his instrument in playing position. It is one of the oldest examples of a cello in my collection and it shows how the early cello did not have an end pin fitted to the bottom of the instrument for support. Instead a player rested the cello's body on the floor or raised it clutched between their knees. This instrument also has geared machine pegs on the scroll instead of tapered tuning pegs. This mechanical innovation was first applied to the double bass and cello around the late 1700's and early 1800's.  It is still used on double basses but is never used on professional cellos today. 

On the back of this small carte de visite is the imprint of the photographer, Gilchrest of 82 Merrimack St. in Lowell, Massachusetts. Mr. Gilchrest also stuck an official blue U. S. Internal Revenue stamp above his business name and drew an X across George Washington's face to record that a 2¢ tax had been paid for this photo. In 1862, during the second year of the Civil War, the Federal government introduced taxes on a variety of goods, services and legal dealings to help finance the war. The recent popularity of photographs like the small carte de visites caught the attention of the Treasury Department and in August 1864 all photographers were required to collect a tax on their sales and affix a proprietary stamp to all photos. The tax stamps came in different denominations and colors depending on the cost of the photo. After the war ended the tax was repealed on 1 August 1866. 

The cellist might have paid 25¢ for a set of four photos and grumbled about the extra expense of the stamp, but here in the future it helps date his portrait to around 1864-66. At this time Lowell, just north of Boston, had a thriving textile industry and was a center for the arts, too. I suspect this musician played in one of Lowell's theater orchestras. Such an ensemble would play serious concerts and accompany theatrical entertainers as well. 

* * * 

My next cellist's portrait is on a larger cabinet card photo mounted on carrot-color cardstock. He sits slightly tilted to one side as if listening to the conductor. His cello rests against his left knee with the bow relaxed. We can't see if it has an end pin, but it does have traditional tuning pegs. His suit is a double-breasted tailcoat buttoned high with wingtip collar and a straight tie. It's a style suitable for a day concert, rather than the more formal white tie used for evening dress.  

What looks like a signature on the lower left corner is actually the photographer's name, H. S. Mendelssohn of Newcastle in northeast England.

The back of the photo has an odd illustration of two female figures in classic "Grecian" dress. One woman is surrounded by a sunlit halo. A mother figure or a goddess?  The number 13597 refers to the negative number should the cellist wish to order duplicates. The address for H. S. Mendelssohn was on Oxford St. in Newcastle on Tyne. Mendelssohn opened his studio there in the 1870s and later in the 1880s and 90s had studios in London in Bayswater and South Kensington. He earned a reputation for fine portraits and advertised his work as "High Art Photographer to her Majesty the Queen and Royal Family." 

The style of the photo, as well as the man's mustache and suit seems appropriate for a date sometime in the 1870s or 1880s. I have another photo taken in a Mendelssohn studio of a female violinist that has an elaborate imprint with addresses for his studios in London, so I think this simpler style is likely from around 1870-75.

* * * 

My third cellist is seated in a similar way to the Newcastle musician but from his dazed look I think he is no longer listening to the conductor. He is dressed in a formal white tie, waistcoat and tailcoat. He seems a rather thin and perhaps a gangly tall young man with a whisp of a blonde mustache. The photographer was P. H. Rose of Providence, Rhode Island. 

On the back of this cabinet card is a penciled signature. I think it spells "Walter Saugee" but it could be "Sangee" or "Sangel" too. Unfortunately whichever spelling I used I could not find a single match in Ancestry.com or in newspaper archives.   

The photographer's full name was Philip Henry Rose whose "elegantly appointed" studio offered a "specialty in high class portraits from cabinet to life size". It was located in the Conrad Building in Providence and Mr. Rose proudly featured an engraving of this grand 5 story structure noting that his business had opened in August 1886, just a short time after the building was completed. 

375 Westminster St.
Providence, Rhode Island
Source: Google Maps, 2018

The Conrad Building is still standing and is part of the historic business district of downtown Providence. It was designed by the aptly named architect firm of Stone & Carpenter for Jerothmul B. Barnaby. Mr. Barnaby was a self-made millionaire, known as “Rhode Island’s Clothing Prince”, because of his many garment factories in the city. He commissioned the building as a wedding gift for his daughter and named it after his new son-in-law, John H. Conrad, a local businessman and politician.

Providence is a place I have researched before for other photographs in my collection. I discovered that the Conrad Building was an address for numerous other businesses besides the Rose studio. In the 1895 city directory there were nine music teachers listed in the building. One of them was Miss Helen May Butler, a teacher of violin and leader of the Talma Orchestra.

1895 Providence, RI city directory

Helen May Butler (1867–1957) was a celebrated musician and bandleader in the 1900s who established one of the first female professional bands. A native of Providence, her Talma Orchestra became the Talma Ladies Military Band and eventually the Helen May Butler Ladies' Band which toured the country from 1901 to 1912. I've featured her in my stories Helen May Butler and her All-American Girls and Cornets and Apples.

It's very likely that Helen May knew Walter the young cellist, and perhaps they even played in the same Providence orchestra. 

Helen May Butler (1867–1957)
Source: Wikipedia

One of my favorite artists is the cellist Yo-Yo Ma.

Here is a short video of him playing

the Prelude from J.S. Bach's Cello Suite No. 1.

It was filmed someplace in the great forests
of the Smoky Mountains in North Carolina.

In the video caption Yo-Yo Ma explains: 
"In the same way that a river begins far before we meet it,
I imagine this music starting long before I play the first note;
I just have to join it.
Like the river, the music is always flowing,
and like the river, it’s always changing.
All I have to do is picture a river, feel its energy,
get into its flow, and follow it."

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where everyone is posing with the family car.