The Art of War – Aerial Assaults, part 1

 

It was the dawn of a new day for these soldiers, gallant cavalrymen on noble steads chasing an extraordinary new symbol of military power—an airship. This huge flying machine sails through the air faster than a horse or even an automobile. What it lacks in elegance it makes up in gigantic amazement. What power drives it to move so effortlessly through the clouds? What can the crew see from that height? Is this not the most brilliant achievement of our great nation?

The artist of this painting was Anton Hoffmann (1863–1938), a very prolific painter, illustrator, and commercial artist from München whose specialty was creating scenes of military valor, partly inspired from his experience serving in the Bavarian Army from 1880-89. Sometime around 1913 Hoffmann painted this dashing picture of horsemen of the 2nd Silesian Hussars Regiment, a distinguished cavalry unit of the Prussian Army. It was printed as a benefit postcard for Germany's "Crown Prince and Crown Princess Foundation of the German Warriors' League". On the back under the imprint for the league is a facsimile inscription of its late chairman, Prussian General Alexander von Spitz (1832–1910), "Stand firm always / Stand still never!"

In the summer of 1914 the shocking assassination of Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie, Duchess of Hohenberg pushed Europe's great powers into war. It was a complicated conflict that many people had feared and many others had planned for. Government officials, military experts, and political pundits predicted this war would be brief, a few weeks perhaps, no more than a couple of months. The streets of capital cities like Berlin, Wien, St. Petersburg, Paris, and London filled with the clamorous noise of soldiers marching and people cheering with nationalist fervor. They could not know that this struggle between nations would drag on for four more years becoming a horrific conflagration that would consume millions of lives.

Beginning in August 1914, as opposing troops mobilized, attacked, and defended across Europe, artists like Hoffman were called upon to illustrate this war and promote their country's patriotic views. Photographers too were engaged, but many subjects were much easier for an artist to depict than what a camera could achieve. One theme was on the new vertical dimension brought to warfare by the introduction of military aircraft, both lighter and heavier-than air. 

In this postcard from 1916 an unknown artist depicts Imperial German troops, cavalry, and artillery neatly arranged on a rolling landscape. It is a scene of an army that Bismarck or Napoleon could have admired except that floating in the sky above is an immense rigid airship, a smaller semi-rigid airship, and a single wing airplane. 

In the first decade of the 20th century the advent of powered airships and airplanes enthralled the public's imagination by opening up seemingly limitless possibilities of human flight. But Europe's military commands were more cautious, even skeptical, of any practical military value for aircraft. Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin's first successful airship flew over Lake Constance on 2 July 1900. But the Imperial German Army did not contract for a Zeppelin airship until 1909. A second airship was commissioned in 1910 from the Schütte-Lanz company, a competitor to Count Zeppelin's company.

In August 1908 Wilbur and Orville Wright first demonstrated their heavier-than-air Flyer in France. The German army negotiated a license agreement with the Wright brothers to have a German factory build their airplane. By 1913 the Imperial German Army Air Service had established five aviation battalions using improved designs from German airplane manufacturers. Not to be outdone, the French, British, and Russian military also formed their own aircraft units, In 1914 the Imperial Russian Army had the largest air fleet with 263 airplanes, followed by Germany with around 250 and France with 156.  

At first armies and navies assigned them to reconnaissance and artillery spotting, just as tethered balloons had been used in previous wars of the 19th century. Observation of enemy forces always provided an important tactical advantage during any battle. A man standing on flat land or on a ship at sea might see as far as the horizon 3 to 4 miles away. Atop a tall 180-foot mast or hill, the distance improved to over 16 miles. Yet in an airplane at 1,000 feet a pilot could see a radius of 38 miles and in an airship at 6,000 feet the circular distance might be 200 miles across in all directions.    

But as Europe's belligerent forces clashed along hundreds of battlefronts it did not take long before aircraft were modified for weapons and combat. It began simply enough when it was noticed that pilots communicated with ground forces by dropping their handwritten messages in weighted bags. Instead of a sack of notes, a grenade or bomb could just as easily be released over an enemy.    

In this German postcard an artist named Roland shows how it was done. A pilot holds a bomb the size of a wine bottle outside his biplane's open cockpit as he flies low over a city.  In the lower corner is a caption of dark humor: Fliegergrüße ~ Aviator's Greetings. The card was sent in June 1915 but I think it depicts one of the first efforts to bomb a city in Russia, possibly Poland, on the Eastern Front.

This vivid picture shows a Schütte-Lanz airship over a city as smoke and fire emanate from buildings below. Printed on the back of card is the painter Hans Rudolf Schulze (1870-1951) and a description, the "Bombardment of Warsaw."    

The Polish city of Warsaw was subjected to bombing from German airships and airplanes from 26 September 1914 through February 1915. The first airship reportedly "dropped two bombs, one of which did not explode, and the other destroyed a booth and a telephone pole." Similarly a German airplane dropped a single bomb on a fortress in Warsaw but caused no damage. Subsequent raids did kill or injure people, almost all Polish civilians, but the raids were not as destructive as Herr Schulze would have us believe.  

Warsaw in October 1914.
The Seed of Highest Culture.
Source: Wikipedia

Polish defiance resulted in a Political cartoon that depicted German Emperor Wilhelm II as a batwinged monster lobbing cannonballs at the city. At this time the Polish people were divided into three regions, each controlled by the German Empire, the Austrian Empire, or the Russian Empire. Warsaw was then joined to Russia but the city fell to the German army in August 1915.

Meanwhile the main thrust of the German army was westward against France. But first it had to cross Belgium. The city of Liege was the first to fall during the first weeks of the war, 5–16 August 1914. The Germans bombarded a ring of Belgian fortresses defending the city, mainly with heavy artillery. On 6 August the Germans conducted the first aerial bombing of a European city when a Zeppelin airship released bombs over Liege which killed nine civilians. 

This arresting painting shows German soldiers (in gray uniforms) scrambling over a smashed fortress wall as Belgian soldiers (in blue uniforms) mount a futile defense. On top a busted artillery emplacement a soldier plants the black/white/red flag of the German Empire. In the background a city explodes in flames as a menacing airship hovers above. The artist's name is unclear, perhaps Bürger? On the back is printed a small image of German General Otto von Emmich (1848–1915) with Lüttich Erobert: 7 August 1914 ~ Liege Conquered: 7 August 1914. The card was sent on 4 Mat 1915 by military free post.

This painting gives a different birds-eye-view of an enormous airship over a city aglow with erupting bombs. The back has a caption that reads "Zeppelin over Antwerp". The artist was Themistokles von Eckenbrecher (1842–1921), a German landscape and marine painter. 

The port city of Antwerp was the second major city in Belgium to be attacked by aerial bombing. On 25/26 August 1914 a German airship released bombs which killed 10 Belgian civilians. But the destruction failed to weaken Belgians' spirits and Antwerp's defensive forts held out through two more attacks. However from 28 September to 10 October 1914 Antwerp became surrounded and besieged by the German army. Days of relentless shelling from German siege guns, accurately directed by observation balloons, forced the remaining Belgian, British, and French forces to flee across the border to the Netherlands.  

 

In this grim sepia-tone illustration a terrifying black airplane flies around Paris's iconic Eiffel Tower. Its summit shines a bright search light's beam. Below it and in the background are a half-dozen intense fires, doubtless caused by bombs. At top of the postcard is a caption: Deutscher Flieger über Paris ~ German Aviator over Paris.     

At the end of August 1914, a German monoplane, ironically called a Taube ~ dove/pigeon, flew over Paris, not at night, but just after noon. The solo pilot  dropped around two to five bombs by hand, just like the Fliegergrüße postcard above. Most did minimal damage but one killed an elderly woman and wounded three persons. The pilot also dropped a bag of leaflets demanding that the French surrender. The bag failed to open and French authorities confiscated the leaflets suppressing all reports on casualties. Nonetheless the raid disturbed all Parisians, changing war preparations in the city and reinforcing the army protecting it. Over the next month more German airplanes targeted Paris resulting in more civilian casualties, facts which were also concealed from the public. The first Zeppelin raid over the city was not until 21 March 1915 when seven people were wounded and one killed. 

Longtime readers of my blog should recognize the title of this humorous postcard: Zeppelin Kommt!   It was the same title I used in February 2021 for my story on a series of postcards created in 1910 by the German artist Arthur Thiele. Here Thiele reprises his joke about the German public's manic enthusiasm for Count Zeppelin's airship, only now he is mocking the French public's confused ruckus when a Zeppelin is spotted over the Eiffel Tower. Firemen blow alarm trumpets, their firetruck crashes into a fruit cart, Parisians are falling all over themselves. In the background are two airships illuminated by searchlight beams. There are no explosions. Yet.

This postcard was sent from a soldier to a young woman in Little Wittenberg on 20 December 1916. On the back is printed a short descriptive poem which was a common feature of Arthur Thiele's humorous postcard series, though I don't know if he was the author or if it was someone from the publisher. The  poem is in a Fraktur typeface, a then common typesetting style for the German alphabet. 

                Kommt ein Zeppelin geflogen,

                Kreist kühn um den Eiffelturm:

                Schreckensrufe, langgezogen . . .

                Die Trompeten blasen Sturm.

                Alles bebt, als nah' entsetzlich

                Sich der Tag des Weltgerichts.

                Und im tiefsten Dunkel plötzlich

                Liegt Paris, die Stadt des Lichts.

                                A Zeppelin comes flying in,

                                Circles boldly around the Eiffel Tower:

                                Cries of terror, drawn out long . . .

                                The trumpets sound the alarm.

                                Everything trembles, as though dreadfully near

                                Were the Day of Judgement.

                                And in the deepest darkness suddenly

                                Lies Paris, the City of Light.

This typeface is difficult for me to read for a variety of reasons, so I used Claude, an A.I. service  I uploaded just a clipped image of the text, cleaning up unnecessary marks and improving the contrast. I gave instructions to Claude to transcribe the poem and translate it. I also told it that it was from a German postcard from December 1916. Claude completed this task in less than 10 seconds and included the following comment:

Notes: This is a piece of German wartime propaganda, celebrating the Zeppelin raids on Paris with a triumphalist and darkly poetic tone. The final line is a pointed rhetorical flourish — inverting Paris's famous epithet "la Ville Lumière" (the City of Light) by plunging it into literal darkness during a blackout. The poem has a driving, ballad-like metre (trochaic tetrameter) that gives it a martial, almost gleeful energy. The reference to the "Tag des Weltgerichts" (Day of Judgement) frames the bombing in quasi-apocalyptic, almost divine terms — typical of wartime propaganda on all sides.

I find these details amazing since I did not describe Thiele's postcard or give it  any other context other than date and language. I also tried it on some more postcards for this story and it produced very acceptable work on messages written in German handwriting. I think Claude will prove a very useful assistant for the kind of research I do. I recommend it to anyone who needs similar services. 

In WW1 The Eiffel Tower performed an important service taking advantage of its great height to function as a giant radio antenna. Early radio technology could not yet handle voice or sound but did well with messages transmitted in Morse Code. The Eiffel Tower also had search lights to spot enemy planes but positioned them at lower levels. Fortunately it never suffered any damage during the war.  

The French produced their own sophisticated propaganda during the war, too. This photo of bomb destruction has a caption:

Les Zeppelins sur Paris — Crimes odieux des pirates Boches 

Côté de maison ébouié  
~

Zeppelins over Paris — Heinous crimes of the Boche Pirates

Side of a House Collapsed

This second photo postcard shows a two story building cut in half by a bomb explosion. A bed hangs precariously from a demolished second floor bedroom. The card comes from the same series as the previous card but has a different identifying caption: 

La maison du brigadier Bidault
~
Brigadier Bidault's House 

The image is identified in French archives as: "Damage caused by bombs dropped by a Zeppelin on the home of Sub-Brigadier Bidault, 34 Rue du Borrego, 20th Arrondissement, Paris, on January 29, 1916."

There is no mention of casualties at this house but that raid in January 1916 killed 75 people and wounded 33. 

My final example of the Art of War is also from France. It is a sketch of a man bent over in a chair, weeping as a young girl tries to console him. Beside him is a covered body in a hospital bed. A nurse and doctor stand at the back of the room. The card has a caption:

Triomphe de Zeppelin.
~
Zeppelin's Triumphs. 

To recognize tragedy we need few words
and only a picture to understand grief.

After January 1916 the German command discontinued sending Zeppelins to bomb Paris. The giant airships were proving too vulnerable to anti-aircraft fire and becoming too expensive to build and maintain. So there would be no attacks on Paris that year or the next. The next aerial assault was not until 30 January 1918 when the Imperial German Air Service introduced the new Gotha G5 heavy bomber. 

Gotha G.V heavy bomber
Source: Wikipedia

This large two-engine biplane was 12.36 m (40 ft 7 in) long and had a wingspan of 23.7 m (77 ft 9 in). It required a crew of 3 men (sometimes 4) and was capable of carrying 14 × 25 kg (60 lb.) bombs over a range of 840 km (520 miles). It was used principally as a night bomber and squadrons of Gotha bombers would make 8 sorties over Paris in 1918 that resulted in many people killed and injured. 

 CODA 

My interest in collecting aviation history started a few years ago when I discovered old postcards depicting the first pioneers of human flight and their flying machines. The images were usually grainy and often absurdly silly. Pilots seated in flimsy aeroplanes flew low over crowds of hundreds of spectators. Squads of men wrestled with long guide ropes to secure a gigantic dirigible to a pylon. One could not help but admire the great courage and single minded determination of these first aviators. 

But I also became fascinated with how flying machines of all kinds inspired a new kind of wonder in mankind which had never been felt before. What was it like to fly like a bird? How far could you see through clouds? How fast and how far could you go? The answers to these questions called for a special imagination that I think added a new 3rd dimension to the world. No longer was the Earth defined by just north-south-east-west, but now there was Up and Down, too. How high could you fly?

From 1900 to August 1914 all this energy of invention and enterprise in aviation was positive, full of hope and optimism. But the Great War changed that and aviation was forced to advance following bellicose military requirements. After 1914 the art of war began presenting flying machines differently. The glamor of flight was still an essential element of a picture, but pilots now earned new respect as brave warriors. Their exploits took on new risks in addition to defying the laws of gravity. Yet as aircraft were armed with guns and bombs they became flying weapons of death and destruction.  

They were also advancing a terrible new moral dilemma for mankind—sanctioning indiscriminate bombing of civilians. Over the next 100 years military aircraft would be used for the most unimaginable horrors and reprehensible atrocities in the history of the world. 

Sadly over the past few weeks we have seen the start of yet another senseless war in Iran. And death and destruction are dispensed from new flying machines in the same cruel random fashion as was done in World War One. Predicting the outcome of this war is also no different than it was in 1914. Anyone's guess is as good as another.

Because I think this story
resonates with our current time
I will continue next weekend
with more pictures on this aviation theme.

Stay tuned for The Art of War – Aerial Assaults, part 2.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where it's a good idea to always check your fuses.

Chamber Music

 

Chamber music is a phrase usually associated with classical music. But it's a very broad term that really just means music for a small place. It can be a parlor room or a cafe lounge or any chamber where a small musical group can make music for themselves or entertain a few friends or patrons. It doesn't require many musicians. It doesn't even have to be played indoors. A solo busker on a street corner is still playing a kind of chamber music. (Unless they are using an amplified Karaoke accompaniment!) 

But two—a duo—makes a nice mix for listeners.

These two young women, a violinist and a guitarist, posed for a beautiful portrait in Emporia, Kansas. They look like sisters to me, around age 16 to 20 maybe? Their cabinet card photo has only the photographers name so we have to guess the era. I think their slightly puffy shoulder sleeves suggests sometime in the 1890s. 

Emporia KS Weekly Gazette
25 July 1895

The photographer was the Cottage Studio of L. G. [Lyston G.] Alvord. Mr. Alvord began advertising in the Emporia newspapers in 1895. His studio was at the very top of a full page business directory for the city. "Finest retouching, finish and expression, making in all the finest photos..." There were three other photographers listed as well and a music dealer who specialized in "pianos, organs, violins, mandolins, guitars, and banjos." Emporia was also home to the Western Musical Conservatory that offered instruction and certificates for "vocal and instrumental music, also elocution and dramatic arts." 

A trio of two violins and a guitar opens up a larger variety of chamber music, since a guitar has the ability to provide chords, rhythm, bass line, and melody too. These three young men were arranged in a photographer's studio into a neat triangle. They have the look of friends not brothers. 

This postcard photo was taken at the Fritz Studio, 852 Penn St., Reading, Pennsylvania but was never posted and has no message to provide clues to date it. Unfortunately men's fashions are less specific to determining a decade much less a year. When did striped socks and polka-dot bowties first become a fad? I guess mid-1900s is a fair timeframe.  

When another instrument is added to a trio we get a quartet, which invites the classic voicing of soprano, alto, tenor, and bass. This quartet even thought their numbers were sufficient to call themselves the "Big 4 Orchestra" written on a label beneath their photo. Two violins are balanced on bass by a cello but the true soprano in the group is a piccolo. That musician with his ivory-head piccolo would stand out even in a band of 100 musicians.

The photographer of this cabinet card photo was C. A. Schnell of Troy, Ohio. Coincidently "Schnell" is the German musical term for fast. Unfortunately I could find no information on this group, but their name may have a subtle meaning that could be a clue. Back in the time before air travel when people used trains, one of the dominant railroads in the Midwest was the Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis Railway, also known as "the Big Four". According to its Wikipedia entry: 

The railroad was formed on June 30, 1889, by the merger of the Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati and Indianapolis Railway, the Cincinnati, Indianapolis, St. Louis and Chicago Railway and the Indianapolis & St. Louis Railway. The following year, the company gained control of the former Indiana, Bloomington and Western Railway (through the foreclosed Ohio, Indiana and Western Railway and through an operating agreement with the Peoria and Eastern Railway). 

Map of Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis Railway
Source: Wikipedia (OpenStreetMap)

Perhaps this quartet took their name from the four men's association with the railroad company. Maybe they worked on the railroad or at a depot. Troy, Ohio is just north of Dayton and was once a station on the Big Four railway. Maybe they each came from Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago and St. Louis?

With five instruments a quartet becomes a quintet. This group is a true string quintet with two violins, a viola, a cello, and a double bass. The men wear formal style suits with long frock coats that i think marks them as professional musicians. They may be the principal string leaders of an orchestra. Four of the men appear to be in their 30s or 40s but the cellist on the right is a few decades older I think. He plays a cello without an endpin following the old traditional method.

This small carte de visite photo was produced by Aug. Röthig of Ebersbach and is typical of photos from 1870-1880. However this placename is hard to pin down as there are five historic towns called Ebersbach. My hunch is that it is the town now called Ebersbach-Neugersdorf in the district of Görlitz, in Saxony, Germany. It is on the border with the Czech Republic, just across from the Czech town of Jiříkov and in the 19th century would have been near the major music centers of the region like Dresden, Prague, and Berlin.

To finish this post on chamber music
here is the St. George Quintet

performing an arrangement
of The Beatles' hit song "Eleanor Rigby." 

Technically they seem to be
in a great hall or a nave in a church
but it's still music with class.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where soothing sounds of music play all weekend.

Five Family Orchestras

An orchestra doesn't really need 100 musicians to call itself an orchestra. In past times five would do. In this case two violins, cello, double bass, and a pump organ make up a family orchestra of a husband and wife, and their two daughters and son. On the side is a caption in German:

Musikdirektor Edmund Link
mit seinem unübertreffbaren Künstler-Familien-Orchester
Inhaber des gesetzlichen Kunstscheines  
~
Music director Edmund Link
with his unsurpassed Family Artist Orchestra
Holder of the Official Artist's License 

The photo has a personal quality, almost like a Christmas family picture to send to friends and relations. Notice that the young violinist stands on a small box to balance her height in the grouping. But this photo was clearly designed to market the family as concert artists. To what degree they succeeded is unknown, but the parents seem duly proud of their talented offspring. 

The postcard was sent from Görlitz, Germany on 26 October 1913 to Herrn Hermann Raschig of Cottbus. It's odd how the message and address are arranged on the proper sides of the divided back but are flipped so the address is on the left. Perhaps the writer was a bit dyslexic?  
 

* * *

In this postcard a similar group of five pose in a photographer's studio set pretending to be a home salon. Here the mother is missing but father plays cello as two daughters play flute and piano, his son plays violin, and the youngest daughter, around age five, plays a triangle. The caption reads in German:

Capelle Wolf – Gasthof "Drei Königen", Herisau (Telephon 245) 
~
Wolf Band – "Three Kings" Inn, Herisau

Here the father leads not from the treble but from the bass line. His children are younger, the oldest girl on piano might be 14. The flutist sister and violinist brother are clearly not in their teens yet. And of course the littlest sister is assigned the easiest instrument which still requires strong confidence to ring it at just the right moment. 

Kapelle is a German word used confusingly for both a chapel and a band/orchestra. Here is it spelled with a C as this is a Swiss-German family band. Herisau is the capital of the canton of Appenzell Ausserrhoden in Switzerland, a very small country with four official languages: German (62%), French (23%), Italian (8%), Romansh (0.5%).   This postcard was sent on an unknown date from a Swiss army base to a young woman in Thusis, Switzerland, a small town 90 miles south of Herisau, deep into the Alps following the Rhine river to one of its tributaries.

* * *

In my third family orchestra we see another quintet with father and mother and three daughters, though one is much older than the other two and might be an aunt or cousin. In the card's caption they called themselves:

Familie Heinrich.  

The daughters play cello and violins and father, who sports an impressive beard, holds a blackwood flute. His wife sits center with her hands resting on a few books, presumably music. She doesn't hold an instrument but next to the cello is a large folk harp which may be her musical specialty. It's another charming family scene demonstrating music culture if not novelty entertainment. Their postcard is typical of thousands of other souvenir cards produced for small ensembles like this during the time of the German and Austrian empires. I expect they performed light music at cafes, restaurants, and hotels which appealed to a respectable clientele, the opposite of the boisterous patrons of music theaters and beer halls.

This card was never posted but the back has the printed name of the photographer, Arthur Eckerlein of  Lindau im Bodensee, a major town on the eastern side of Lake Constance (Bodensee in German) in Bavaria, Germany. It's actually not far from Herisau, Switzerland, just 38 miles around the southern bowl of the lake.

* * *

This next family orchestra is another string quintet with two violins, cello, contraguitar, and a German type of button accordion. They are identified by the caption on their postcard as:

Familie Röttig

Singspiel und Possen Ensemble und Schrammel Quintet

~

Musical and farce-ensemble and schrammel quintet 

Mother, seated center, holds a contraguitar, also known as a Schrammel guitar, which is a type of harp guitar with two necks and extra strings. It was developed in Vienna in the mid-19th century and is associated with the light music of Viennese cafes and wine gardens.  The squeezebox played by her husband, is, I believe, a Chemnitzer concertina. This instrument originated in Saxony and became popular in polka bands. The father and his son on violin, both wear dark but not-too-formal suits, while mother and her two daughters wear dresses and shawls embellished with colorful folk patterns. Their address under the caption was in Komotau, Bohemia which is now known as Chomutov, Czechia. So they probably had a few polkas in their repertoire. 

This card has a 5 heller Austrian stamp of Kaiser Franz Joseph and the postmark date looks to be 31 January 1911. It was sent to someone in Berlin.

* * *

My last family orchestra are certainly the largest with an octet of 8 family members and are perhaps the most colorful and exotic. They called themselves: 

Künster-Familien-Ensemble "de Espania Aida"
mit dem kleinsten Kappelmeister Carlos
~

The Artist Family Ensemble ""the Spanish Aida"
featuring the youngest conductor, Carlos.

Father and mother stand at the back with their eldest son who holds a violin. Two daughters, twins I think, sit in front of their father and play violin and mandolin. In the center is the youngest, a girl wearing a top hat and holding drum sticks, I think. Beside her is an older son on cello. And on the far left is young Carlos on violin. A Kappelmeister is a German word for the principal violinist or concertmaster of an orchestra.

Their outfits pass for a kind of flashy Spanish costumes with all the men wearing silly double-eared montera hats like a toreador would wear. The women wear heavy embroidered short-sleeved jackets. The printer has gone to extra expense to colorize the fabrics in yellow, red, and a faded blue. The lower caption claims this ensemble performed music, songs, dances, and farces, which I interpret as humorous skits. The "Spanish Aida" may not be their real name, since their contact address was in Cöln, now spelt as Köln or Cologne, Germany. 

This group resembles more of a music hall act, i.e. "vaudeville". Their costumes are clearly a theatrical dress which suggests they played Spanish or Italian music, maybe opera too, rather than Germanic folk tunes. There are dozens of other ensembles in my collection that claimed to have the world's youngest or smallest bandleader. It was a common showbiz embellishment.

This postcard was never mailed but "Prosit Neujahr" ~ "Cheers, New Year" is printed on the back. It included a year but someone scratched it out. Maybe 1908 which seems about right for this type of card.  

String instruments are not very loud compared to brass instruments. These "orchestras" played a different repertoire from brass bands. They did not march in parades or play ceremonial fanfares. Their music was quiet and refined, a cultured sound that charmed with the talent of the children. 

As I have noted in my previous stories on family bands, the shelf life for these ensembles was very short since inevitably children always grow up and eventually are no longer cute. However in the time before World War One musical families were once very common, especially in Central Europe. It offered enterprising parents a way to make some money as entertainers while training their children in a respectable trade. And they made a lot of grandparents smile.  

This my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where families are on the march for March.

The Seventh Regiment Band

 

It's not just their tunics with braided trim,
or their bright white trousers and baldric belts
that draws our attention to this band.  

The photo's sepia tone can't reveal
the full gleam of their brass buttons,
or their colorful swallowtail epaulettes,
or the shine on their brass instruments.

What stands out are the faces of bandsmen
who show a proud professionalism
in their military band.

Today I present a postcard photo 
of a band that was once
one of America's premier military bands,

The Seventh Regiment Band of New York City.

The photo shows a large ensemble of 59 men all dressed in the same fancy gray uniform with white trousers. They all wear the soft Kepi or forage cap that was the standard service hat of the United States Army during the Civil War. There are lots of cornets, trombones, french horns, euphoniums, tubas, clarinets, drums, and maybe a piccolo too. Behind them are several large canvas tents and a wooded hillside. In the top right corner someone has written:

State Camp
Peekskill, N. Y.
6 — 16th 1905

There is no other message since this postcard was intended to have only the address written on the back. It was sent from Peekskill, New York that very day and arrived at the home of Miss M. Chapman of 190 Vernon Ave., Brooklyn, New York later that same afternoon.  

The band is not identified but I could guess that they were a band engaged for a national guard training camp. I've written stories about such bands before in Tenting on the Old Camp Ground and The Band at the Old Campground, but those bands did not wear uniforms like these fellows. In the time before World War One a typical state national guard unit would hire a professional band for a week or two each summer to provide march music and entertainment for the officers and guardsmen doing their annual training encampment. Guard bandsmen were civilian musicians for the rest of the year and only wore a quasi army uniform for a couple of weeks. 

The band in Peekskill however wore tailored uniforms of the highest grade. And they counted over twice the number of bandsmen found in a standard state guard band. Who were they? The answer was easy to find in New York newspapers from June 1905.

New York Daily Tribune
4 June 1905
[click image to enlarge]

The location for the camp was at Peekskill, New York, a small city on the Hudson river about 50 miles north of New York City. It was here in 1882 that the New York State Camp of Military Instruction was established on a farm situated on a bluff that overlooked the Hudson River. In a few years it would be renamed to Camp Smith in honor of Governor Alfred E. Smith of New York. But in 1905 it was just called the State Camp and this was the 24th summer for the annual training of New York's National Guard units. This year the training sessions would be shorter lasting for just three weeks.

For the first week of June 1905 the First and Second Signal Corps and Tenth Regiment were resident. The 10th was a new regiment formed in May of that year with a strength of about 900 guardsmen. Newspapers around the state published long lists of its officers' names and their positions. Gartland's Band of Albany with 30 men was engaged to provide music for the 10th's parades and camp entertainment. This band would return for the third week of State Camp when the 22nd Regiment, Engineers would be resident there.  

Each regiment brought their own tents and equipment but this summer's training had a few innovations. The soldier's uniforms were now made from an olive drab fabric which previously had been in different colors for each regiment. The camp also had a new telephone system, which can be seen in the photo as a line of white poles in the photo. The Y. M. C. A. also had a new restaurant which reportedly had better food than the camp mess. Unfortunately the men endured a wet week with rain on six days out of seven.

Throughout the three weeks of national guard training there was a constant stream of visitors. West Point cadets from the nearby U. S. Military Academy just across the Hudson would come to observe or sometimes participate in mock battles with the guard. The regimental headquarters would often host regular army officers and even a U. S. Navy captain for a few days which always included a lavish meal with entertainment provided by the band. During the week civilians from Peekskill and surrounding area would drop in to watch drills, guard mount parades, or other events during which, of course, the band would play. 

Meanwhile signalman practiced their semaphore flag waving, engineers built floating bridges to cross streams, and riflemen tried to improve their marksmanship at the rifle ranges. The men were issued new Norwegian Krag rifles, considered superior to the old heavy Springfields. However the Krag's lighter barrel was easily bent if dropped which ruined its accuracy. Even the weight of a bayonet was said to eventually put it out of true. 

On Sunday 11 June the Tenth regiment departed and the Seventh Regiment arrived. They wore the new olive drab army uniforms, but had brought along their gray full dress uniforms for ceremonial parades. This regiment did not travel light and also brought along their own band, the celebrated Seventh Regiment Band.  If they were going to march in camp, they would march with style.

Seventh Regiment Armory, 
66th and 67th Streets,
Park and Lexington Avenues, New York City
Source: Wikimedia

The Seventh Regiment of the New York Militia was one of the oldest infantry regiments in New York. It was originally formed in 1806 as a city militia to defend New York City from a British blockade of the port. Over the next few decades the militia was called out to quell riots and protect private property during disturbances in the city. In 1847 it became the 7th Regiment of Infantry in the New York National Guard. During the Civil War the 7th served in the United States Army for several short duties of 30 to 90 days at a time, mainly guarding government positions around Washington, Baltimore, and New York. The unit became known as the "Silk Stocking" regiment or the "Blue-Bloods" because many of its soldiers came from families in New York City's social elite.

Following the war the 7th remained in the State Guard and in 1880 moved its headquarters into a privately funded building on Park Avenue and 67th Street. The Seventh Regiment Armory, now known as the the Park Avenue Armory, housed the administration for the regiment and each of its companies, as well as storage for equipment, rifles, and other arms. The armory's drill hall was under an immense vaulted ceiling supported without columns and measured 200 by 300 feet (61 by 91 m). There was even a 300-foot rifle range in its basement.    

The Seventh Regiment Band was organized in 1852 using German musicians from the city's orchestras and theaters. At the beginning of the Civil War, under the leadership of Claudio S. Grafulla (1812–1880), the band expanded from just brass instruments to including more woodwinds. Grafulla was born on the Spanish island of Menorca and immigrated to the United States in 1828 where he first found work playing the horn in one of New York City's many brass bands. He was also a talented composer and arranger whose popular marches helped establish a new American style band music.   

The band had its own practice room in the armory which is a short distance from Central Park. During the summer months the Seventh Regiment Band regularly performed concerts in the park. Programs were heavy on arrangements of German symphonic and Italian operatic repertoire. The band also played at events in Madison Square Garden and led parades for all sorts of civic and political events in New York.

In November 1899 George Llewellyn Humphrey was appointed as bandmaster of the Seventh Regiment Band to replace Ernest Neyer who had died earlier in August. Humphrey was selected from 150 applicants. He had previously led bands in Revenna and Akron, Ohio and was then musical director at the Herald Square Theatre. Like many of the musicians in New York he worked with both orchestras and bands following the city's entertainment seasons.

Philadelphia Inquirer
26 October 1900

In late October 1900, New York Governor Theodore Roosevelt returned to New York after several grueling weeks spent on the campaign trail. He was the new Republican candidate for vice president, on the ticket with President William McKinley who was seeking a second term. Roosevelt had only been New York's governor since January 1899 but in less than two years had earned a reputation as a reformer and opponent of New York's machine politics.

The Republican County Committee of New York planned a huge reception for Governor Roosevelt at Madison Square Garden. Part of the entertainment would be the assembled turnout of New Yorkers singing the Star-Spangled Banner with "500 trained singers, fifty military bands, and a chorus of 30,000 persons, directed by George L. Humphrey, bandmaster of the Seventh Regiment Band."    

In order to conduct this gigantic choir and band, Bandmaster Humphrey came up with the idea to use the powerful searchlight on the Garden's tower like a giant baton beating the time for the thousands of singers and musicians. The Boston Herald reported the next day that:

    The programme announced that the light would appear at 8:15 o’clock to lead the Roosevelt crowds about the square in the singing of "The Star Spangled Banner," but the singers were ready and waiting long before that signal.

    Promptly to the minute the searchlight flashed out its signal.  It was waved over the crowd and directed upon the various bands.  There was a hush in the assembly as every one strained his ears to catch the first blare of the horns.  Then came the strident note of a bugle, taking up the opening note of the anthem.  This was followed by the full crash of a dozen bands in and around the square, and the thunder of thousands of voices, whose volume rose even above the noise of the instruments.

    When the crowd reached the lines,

        And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,”

        Gave proof to the night that our flag was still there.

the bombs appropriately burst far above the heads of the singers, revealing red, white and blue stars, and showing the banner of the republic, “still high advanced.”  A mighty cheer arose, as the thousands raised in their singing to hail the colors of the flag.

    The light was waved up and down, in short, though precisely regulated, strokes. It was difficult to follow at first, but the singers soon got accustomed to it, and when Mr. Humphrey directed the singing of “America,” the crowd followed with ease and with tremendous effect.  

This was just one example of a monster concert in the golden age of bands. But from our perspective 126 years later, it was also a hint of the many spectacles to come in the new century. One can only imagine the excitement Teddy Roosevelt felt as he listened to the music and saw the adulation of the crowd. Five years later Bandmaster Humphrey and the bandsmen of the Seventh Regiment Band surely remembered that event with great pride as they traded stories over a campfire at Peekskill.

In August of 1905 the Seventh Regiment Band furnished the music for the thirty-ninth annual commencement of the New York College of Dentistry. Three weeks later the band led a parade of firemen in Larchmont, New York. In September they accompanied a male chorus of 400 voices from the United German Singing Societies at a concert in Central Park. And in November the Seventh Regiment Band "of 100 pieces" provided music for a mass meeting of lawyers at Carnegie Hall.

Bandmaster George L. Humphrey continued leading the Seventh Regiment Band until poor health forced his retirement in 1916. He moved to Washington, Pennsylvania where he died of tuberculosis on 28 December 1918. He was 64. 

I think the bandsman standing second left in the postcard photo is Bandmaster George L. Humphrey. This man holds no instrument (the horn to his left belongs to the next man) and a bandmaster was not a drum major, who stands on the opposite side in the full band photo. This man looks to be around age 51 which was Humphrey's age that summer in 1905. He also looks like someone who could easily wield a searchlight to beat 4/4 time if he had to.  

Footnote

Despite a very thorough search of the infinite internet archives I have been unable to find any other photos of the Seventh Regiment Band. This was the band that once led every important parade in New York City for decades. Its bandmasters were highly regarded musicians who composed marches in the same way that John Philip Sousa did with the U. S. Marine Band and his famous Sousa Marine Band. So it surprises me that this little postcard may be the only photo of this premier ensemble which once made a significant contribution to American band music.

Here is the 7th Regiment March

composed by Ernest Neyer (1847–1899)

who briefly was bandmaster of the 7th Regiment Band

from 1898 until his death on 31 August 1899.
He was succeeded by George L. Humphrey
who was the 7th's bandmaster in my postcard from 1905.

The 7th Regiment Band led by Lieut. Francis W. Sutherland
played Neyer's march on this 1923 recording which was made
for the Vocalion label of the Aeolian Company. 

 UPDATE: 

Just two days after I posted this story I tried searching for more information on the Seventh Regiment Band in another archive, Google Books. Much to my surprise a series of books, "The Seventh Regiment Gazette, A Military Review, Devoted to the Interest of the Seventh Regiment and the National Guard" has been digitized and Volumes 19-20 for 1905 was available for download. Not only did this monthly gazette have a day-by-day account of the 7th's week at the State Camp in Peekskill but there were photos of officers and staff.    

"The Seventh Regiment Gazette, A Military Review,
Devoted to the Interest of the Seventh Regiment and the National Guard"
Source: Google Books

On  page 575 of the PDF file are two portraits of Bandmaster Geroge L. Humphrey and Drum Major Charles H. Brown. They both wear very elaborate uniforms much more ornamented than the uniforms the band wears in my postcard. Drum Major Brown looks to be the same man with a mace seen on the far right of the band's photo. But the man I thought was Bandmaster Humphrey does not match the face in his portrait. For one thing Humphrey wears pince nez spectacles but the man in the photo does not. And is that a baton or a light saber that he is holding? 

"The Seventh Regiment Gazette, A Military Review,
Devoted to the Interest of the Seventh Regiment and the National Guard"
Source: Google Books

Just above are portraits of the Regimental and Battalion Sgt-Majors who are wearing guardsmen's dress uniforms. It's a gallant style that reflects the proud military traditions of the Seventh Regiment New York National Guard.   

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where camping tents are 20% off all weekend.