The Well-dressed Flutist: Uniform Edition

 

The flute has perhaps the oldest heritage of all musical instruments.
(Okay, drums are older, but let's skip that debate today.)
Originally crafted in prehistoric times from hollow animal bones,
it's a simple instrument whereby a player makes a whistling sound
by blowing air over a hole at one end of a tube.
Over many millennium different cultures around the world
improved the flute by making it out of reeds, bamboo, and wood.
Eventually it became the familiar transverse flute. 

 

By the early modern era, flutes were commonly constructed
of dense African blackwood, also known as Grenadilla, (Dalbergia melanoxylon), 

the same timber used to make oboes and clarinets,
and fitted with several metal keys to cover the tone holes.
.

But in the early 19th century the German inventor and musician
Theobald Böhm (1794 – 1881) devised a new improved flute made entirely of silver.
His first patent for a metal flute with improved keywork was taken out in 1847
and it was first displayed to the public in 1851 at the London Exhibition.
This is the type of flute now played in orchestras and bands.

However Böhm's design was not immediately adopted
and in the mid and late 19th century
many flutists preferred the sound quality of a wooden flute
despite the advantages of a silver flute.

 Some players compromised by playing a flute
that had a wooden body for the keys

and a metal head joint for the embouchure hole.  

 

Other instrument makers used ivory.
This hard white dentine material,
taken primarily from the tusks of elephants,
was the plastic of the 19th century.
It was once used in many common household items
as well as for musical instruments
like the white keys of a piano,
the decorative accents on violin bows, 
and for head joints of flutes and piccolos.

Today I present five well-dressed flutists

who took pride in posing for a camera
in their best concert uniform.

My first well-dressed flutist is a young man holding a blackwood flute and dressed in a dark uniform embellished with a swirling line of contrasting embroidery that matches the curls of his hair. This style of jacket was used by musicians in both professional and amateur bands, but not in military bands. 

The portrait was produced at the studio of Ada Houseknecht, Artist, Batavia, New York. It is a rare example of work by a female photographer. Ada was born in 1868 and married to a photographer, Philon B. Houseknecht. Her obituary in 1949 described her as a "well-known photographer" in Batavia.   

On the back is a signature and date:  Walter Bernard, Geneseo, Sept 15, (18)99. I'm not absolutely certain of the last name as the letters are very spiky, but Bernard seems the most likely spelling. Geneseo is the county seat of Livingston County in the Finger Lakes region of western New York. The town is about 25  miles southeast of Batavia, New York. Unfortunately the man's name is too common to make a positive identification as I found no exact match in the either town. But the date is surely correct. 

* * *

My next flutist holds a silver flute as he stands in a photographer's studio with his instrument case and sheet music on a tall wooden plant stand. His name is Albert and he signed the back of his postcard portrait and wrote the date 28-9-10 or 28 September 1910. It was addressed to a Madame Jeanne Guillaume of Paris. 

His uniform is neat but restrained without ornament. There are music lyre badges on his cap and collar. I believe he is a member of a regimental band but I don't see any unit number badge so he could be a member of a civic band from some French commune.

* * *

My third flutist chose an unusual narrow and tall cabinet mount for his portrait, perhaps to accentuate his height and his flute which he holds vertically on a side table. This flute is a hybrid design with a silver head joint and a blackwood body. His uniform has a jacket embroidered with a kind of trefoil design on the front buttons, sleeves, and epaulets and a broad stripe along the trouser legs. His cap appears to be without a brim and has five initials fixed to it:  W.H.P.D.C.  

The photo came from the studio of Rodgers Photographic Palace, 471 Main Street, Hartford (Connecticut). My estimate is that this portrait of a young man, age twenty-something, was taken in the late 1890s or early 1900s. There is a West Hartford and perhaps the letters stand for West Harford Police Department but I don't know what the C could stand for. I would instead expect the letter B which of course would stand for Band. 

* * *

My fourth uniformed flutist is posed seated and gazing off to his left. The photographer has faded the image edges for a dreamy effect but it actually looks as if the studio is on fire and filling with smoke. In the young man's lap are a piccolo and flute, both in blackwood with ivory head joints. His uniform has large fringed epaulets and a single row of shiny brass buttons. The diagonal belt across his chest is to carry a small satchel for his music. 

I suspect he is a member of a state guard band. In the 19th century United States' regular army was quite small and whenever there was a crisis requiring a large military force it depended on state militias to provide the manpower. These state guard regiments often hired professional  bands to play at the unit's annual training sessions, typically 12 to 14 days each summer. For parades the bandsmen would wear this type of formal uniform. 

This cabinet card was produced at the studio of B. F. Freeman of East Somerville, Massachusetts. The style looks like late 1880s to me or perhaps early 1890s.   

* * *

My final flutist has the best uniform, I think. His short jacket is adorned with full fringe epaulets and three rows of 24 brilliant brass buttons. His military forage cap has a two-color feather plume which must have made a splendid effect when his band was marching. In his right hand he holds a piccolo made of blackwood with an ivory head joint and in his left is a blackwood flute. On the table next to him is a third blackwood flute as well as lyre for his music. It looks like it would be attached to a wrist band worn on his left arm.

His belt buckle has a wreath design with three initials in the center. The first letter is definitely a D but the next two are unclear. Like the previous flutist, I think his elite uniform marks him as bandsman of  a state guard regiment. Unfortunately his cabinet card has no photographers name or other marks so I'm only certain it was taken in America, likely in the 1880s or 1890s.

Let's finish with a rendition
of the famous piccolo solo from John Philip Sousa's
march, "The Stars and Stripes Forever". 
The soloist is Staff Sgt. Kara Santos of the United States Marine Band
performing at the Marine Barracks, Washington, D.C., on May 31, 2013.

Her instrument is made of blackwood 

but appropriately for the 21st century without an ivory head joint.

Sousa claimed he composed his iconic American march
on Christmas Day 1896 on board a steamer returning from England.

I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that ever since then
 this short tune has been memorized and played
by every flutist from every nation around the world.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where the market has special offers this weekend
on flutes & piccolos fruits and pickles.

The Unknown Orchestra

 

 

Lacking any marks for who, when, or where
the fate of most vintage photographs
is reduced to basic curiosity.
Who are these people?

In my collection there are hundreds
of such anonymous photographs of musical groups.
Small clues in this grainy 10" x 8" print suggest
these musicians posed for a camera
at some vague time in the late 19th century
somewhere in the United States.
But finding their personal details
are regrettably impossible.
Were some of the men brothers?
Father and son?

 

 

 

 

 

A cello and a snare drum
are not out of place in an orchestra.
But what kind of orchestra would include
a double-bell euphonium?
A novelty solo instrument
usually found in brass bands. 

And what about the dog
lying down in front like a sack of potatoes?
What position did this canine
hold in the orchestra?

 

 

 

 

 

 Yet for sheer humor of the human condition
nothing beats a photo with funny face.
Any flutist with such a schnoz and mustache
must have been a remarkable character
even if it was a theatrical fake disguise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 It's proof that even a photograph
of an unknown orchestra
can be a priceless artifact of music history.

 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where everything has gone to the dogs this weekend.

Like Father, Like Son

 

It's a photo game we all play.
Look at their faces and spot the difference.
Do they share eyes and nose? Yes.
Chin and ears? Maybe.
Hair? Definitely.

 

 

Even with people we've never met,
we still guess at similarities we think we see.
From the curl of the hair
to the shape of the brow,
we marvel at what the camera reveals.

This is especially true
with photos of father and son.
What manly traits were passed down?
What mark in a likeness deserves remembering?
A grandfather's chin?
A mother's cheeks?
 

Today I feature two musical duos.
Both unknown fathers and sons
but handsome portraits just the same.

 

 

 

My first image is of two cornetists, father and son, on a cabinet card photo taken by the Blake studio of Bellows Falls, Vermont. The son, around age 10 or 12, stands beside his seated father, who may be in his mid-twenties. To judge from their carefully oiled hair, both have just visited the town barber. Their cornets gleam with fancy engraving. The photo is in superb condition with gold edging on the card stock. I estimate that it dates from about 1895 when the population of Bellows Falls, a village in south central Vermont, grew 40.3%, from 3,092 in 1890 to 4,337 in 1900.

 

 

My second son and father pair is a bit unusual for two reasons. The first is that both are dressed in top-line band uniforms, and the second is that both are holding fifes. The boy, again about 10 or 12 years old, stands next to his father who sits in a typical 1890's photography studio's rattan chair. This cabinet card photo was taken at the J. W. C. Floyd studio of the Kreamer Block in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania, probably around 1895 like the other photo. Lock Haven, a county seat, is on the West Branch of the Susquehanna River, about 100 miles north of Harrisburg. In 1890 its population was 7,358.

 

Their uniforms are modeled after a military cadet style, with flat kepis, trim tunics decorated with braid and a gold stripe along the trouser legs. The fifes are very simple wooden pipes with metal ferrule ends and six or maybe seven finger holes. This instrument has none of the complicated keys of flutes and piccolos, and is designed with a recorder-like metal whistle for the sound production. This makes it easier to play than traditional fifes and flutes which require blowing across a tone hole. 

 

The cap badge on their hats has four initials, CH DC.  but I haven't found a group that matches those letters. Many fraternal societies of this era organized fife and drum corps to accompany the society's members when marching in formation. American cities and towns of the 1890s-1900s seemed to host a parade every month, and detailed parade orders were regularly printed in newspapers. It's likely that this father and son commemorated a parade in Lock Port with a nice photograph to remember the occasion.

Wouldn't you like to hear these two father son duos play?

 

 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where you can always bet on a pair to win.

The Solitary Musician

A painting is static. Fixed in time.
 

Music is fleeting. As ephemeral as the wind.

When an artist lays down their brush,
the work is finished, ready to be viewed.

But a composer's notes can make no sound
without a musician to bring voice to them.

To do this, musicians spend
countless hours of their life alone,
studiously perfecting their skills
to recreate the composer's music.

It's usually a solitary pursuit,
though sometimes shared with a partner.
Yet it requires faithful dedication
to polish musical tones
into sparkling brilliance.

But it's only when the notes are shared,
harmony supporting melody,
that instrumentalists
blend into one unified sound.
In that brief time
the composer's musical notation
is magically transformed
into an intangible art form
that is heard but not seen.

It takes a talented artist
who can illustrate the earnest effort
it takes to make music.

These solo musicians
may remain immobile on the canvas
but in our imagination
we can hear them play.

* * *

The artist of this series of five paintings of musicians, reproduced as postcards, was Paul Stubbe,. (1874–1950). He was born in Neustettin, now Szczecinek, Poland, in 1874 when it was in a region of Germany called Middle Pomerania, about 60 miles south of the Baltic Sea. As a young boy he showed promising artistic talent, but his father, a merchant, directed him to a more secure profession as a doctor. Stubbe was sent to Strasbourg where he studied both medicine and art. He pursued more training in Munich before  returning to Neustettin in 1904 to take up a physician's practice. Within a few years he found such success as both a doctor and artist, that in 1907 Dr. Stubbe became the first person in his hometown to own an automobile.

During World War 1, Stubbe served as a doctor on a German hospital ship. When the war ended, Neustettin became part of Poland, so Dr. Stubbe moved to Hamburg, Germany. There he found employment as a commercial ship doctor which allowed him to travel the world. Unfortunately in the next war, bombing raids struck his home and studio in Hamburg destroying his artwork. After the war he tried to recreate some of his paintings, and I suspect his series of musicians may come from that postwar time. Paul Stubbe died in Hamburg on May 14, 1950. Much of what remains of his art is preserved at the Regional Museum in Szczecinek, where I found his history. 

Paul Stubbe's painting of the horn player
is aptly entitled:

Mit voller Kraft
~
With full Power

The title of his painting of a trombonist
is appropriately called:

Fortissimo
~
Very Loud

The title of the forlorn violinist is:

Melancholie
~
Melancholy

The flutist performing for his wife is called:

Aus der Jugendzeit
~
From the Youth

The wind quartet
of oboe, bassoon, clarinet, and horn
is entitled:

Das Dorfquartett
~
The Village Quartet

None of the postcards ever went through the mail
but the artist's name in printed on the back.
Kleins Künstlerpostkarten
Paul Stubbe: (title)

The publisher was Kleins Buch und Kunstverlag GmbH, of Lengerich in Westfalia, Germany. This family-owned company was established by Alwin Klein in 1892, with a specialty for printing books and fine art. In 1922 it began producing paper sacks for the cement industry, and today the firm Bischof + Klein has become a major manufacturer of plastic packaging. 

It is difficult to place a date on these postcards, but to me the feel of the paper and print seem more suited to the 1950s than any earlier decade. Still I can't be certain that they may date from the 1930s or 1970s too. Since each postcard is numbered on the back, I do know that there are at least 6 in this series, of which I have found 5. With luck I will find the missing number with a postmark to establish the era. {See UPDATE below!}

 

I suspect these amusing caricature paintings by Paul Stubbe came from an early time in his career, possibly made when he lived in Munich at the turn of the 20th century. It was then, as now, a very musical city and no doubt an inspiring place for a young observant artist/doctor. His paintings have a wistful romantic quality that I initially admired for their gentle wit, but recently I've recognized myself and other musician friends in Stubbe's images.

The solitary activity of a musician practicing their art is still true today as it was in 1895. But Stubbe added an element of sorrow to his paintings that resonates with the isolation musicians everywhere have endured over the past few months. Music is an art form that requires a connection between both performer and listener, and one of the many consequences of this dreadful pandemic is the sharp break in that dynamic interaction. With theaters and concert halls closed, musicians are forced into a quarantine that sadly resembles the gloomy rooms depicted in Stubbe's paintings. Usually it is music that renders the sadness of the heart. Here it is art that mirrors the anguish of arrested music.

UPDATE:

 

Hooray!
I found it.
 

The missing sixth postcard
depicts a solitary clarinetist.
The short length of his instrument
suggests he is an E-flat clarinetist,
who are the most solitary of all clarinet players.

Stubbe places his solo musician
standing with his music stand
in the sunlit half of a dark interior room.
The title is:

Sein Morgenlied
~
His Morning Song

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where the motto of the day is
keep calm and watch your step.

The Lofty Piccolo

It's simple.
Take a very short wooden tube,
stopper one end, cut a few holes,
and blow.

It makes a delightful whistle,
a charming bird song,
or a banshee shriek from Hades.
(At least it does when one is played into your ear)

It's called a piccolo.

This piccolo belonged to a musician from Livermore, California,
a city just east of San Francisco  and Oakland.
A slender man with a dapper mustache,
he is dressed in a fine uniform
decorated with knotted braid toggle buttons.
His cap has a  badge with the initials L.C.B.
which likely stand for Livermore Cornet Band.

The cabinet card photo was taken by
G. F. Madison
of Livermore, CA.

Sacramento CA Record-Union
04 May 1888

In May 1888, the Livermore Cornet Band
played a special evening concert
when the town's streets were lit up for the first time
with ten Waterhouse electric lights.
The band was established sometime around 1884
and continued to perform until 1908.
The scalloped edges of the piccolo player's cabinet card
were a fashion from 1889 into the 1890s.

* * *

The modern piccolo is 12 inches long
making it in the key of C,
one octave higher than the flute.
But 19th century bands
used slightly shorter piccolos in D-flat,
which are no longer found in wind ensembles.
This may be because it is very strange key with 5 flats,
which could just as easily be in C-sharp with 7 sharps.
Who wants that kind of transposition headache?

Like the first example, this piccolo has a similar ivory head-joint
with the keyed body in Black Granadilla wood.

It was the instrument of a bandsman
from Bristol, Rhode Island
who sports a splendid soup-strainer mustache.
His military style uniform
has three rows of brass buttons,
a Sam Brown belt, and a plumed shako.
The belt buckle may have an embossed eagle
which would be the sign of a US Army regimental band,
but unfortunately the camera's focus was on the piccolo.

The photographer of this cabinet card was
E. V. Dailey
36 State St.
Bristol, R.I.

* * *

This last piccolo is made entirely in blackwood
with a silver lip plate and very simple keywork.

This piccoloist is not dressed in a band uniform
but instead wears a formal tailcoat.
His mustache, like his oiled hair,
is carefully groomed.

His name was George.

He appears to be a professional musician
of a theater orchestra, or maybe even a symphonic orchestra.
as he has chosen to sit with his music stand next to him.
Regrettably the camera did not capture his sheet music clearly.

The cabinet card was produced at the studio of
Suder
No. 4 Greene St.
Trenton, N. J.

There is no date but it's likely made in the early 1890s.

For
Cousin Sallie
from
George

Please send yours back.

Whether in a band marching in a parade, or in an orchestra playing a Tchaikovsky symphony, the piccolo, the highest of trebles, is capable of playing thrilling melodies that easily carry over the sound of a hundred other instruments. Perhaps the piccolo tune best known by people around the world was composed by John Philip Sousa for his famous march, The Stars and Stripes. However Sousa's march was not performed until May 1897 which was likely several years after my three piccolo players had their pictures taken. Nonetheless I feel certain that all three eventually learned to love that moment when the piccoloist got to stand up for a solo. 

Let's hear a stirring rendition by a band
with the best uniforms ever,

as the 1st Marine Division Band
plays "Stars and Stripes Forever"
at an evening colors ceremony at Camp Pendleton, SC.on September 29, 2011

Cpl Philips plays the piccolo solo,
though evidently he needs to play it a few more times
before he has it memorized.

Sorry, but unfortunately that video has been removed from YouTube.

* * *

* * *

Usually a band or an orchestra only needs one piccolo player
to balance the sound of a full ensemble.

But in Austintown, Ohio, which celebrates the 4th of July early,
the Canfield Community Concert Band
played a concert on June 27, 2017
with dozens of piccolo players
from eastern Ohio, western Pennsylvania, and West Virginia
joining in on the famous piccolo solo.

* * *

* * *

I can't help imagining
a gigantic flock of patriotic starlings
swooping down over the concert audience.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where Queens Gambit doesn't always lead to checkmate.