The Well-dressed Trombonist - Under the Eagle

 

The America Bald Eagle has been the symbol of our nation since 1782 when Congress chose it for the design of the Great Seal of the United States. With wings spread wide, an eagle's talons grasp 13 arrows in its left foot and an olive branch with 13 leaves in its right. In its beak is a ribbon with the Latin phrase: E Pluribus Unum ("Out of many, one"). 

Great Seal of the United States
Source: Wikimedia

In 1775 during the Revolutionary War, General George Washington had his officers display cockades on their hats to distinguish their rank. Initially he wanted these decorative knots of ribbons or rosettes in different colors so that "the field officers may have red or pink colored cockades in their hats, the captains yellow or buff, and the subalterns green.” But by 1777 his ragged army from the 13 colonies changed to using a simple black cockade, which, not by chance, happened to be the Hanoverian color of King George III.

In February 1778 the United States signed a Treaty of Alliance with France. Since the color favored by the French King Louis XVI was white, Washington ordered his soldiers to display a new Alliance Cockade on their hats that was black with a white center. The supporting French troops likewise wore an Alliance Cockade of white with a black center.

When George became President in 1789 among his many new responsibilities was deciding on appropriate uniform colors and insignia for the U.S. military. The old black cockades wouldn't work since that were still a British army style. The white on black was similarly politically incorrect since France had adopted a new tricolor of  blue, white and red as a symbol of its recent revolution. (Poor Louis XVI tried to wear one but it didn't really suit his hat.) 

To solve this fashion problem some clever Americans came up with an easy solution that Washington approved—putting an eagle pin onto the center of a black rose cockade. On 9 January 1799 his Secretary of War, James McHenry, ordered "All persons belonging to the army, to wear a black cockade, with a Small white Eagle in the centre. The cockade of non-commissioned officers, musicians and privates, to be of leather, with Eagles of tin." 

This pin depicted an eagle with down-swept wings sitting on a bank of clouds. That design lasted hardly more than a decade when in 1812 it was changed to suit another war with King George III, this time adding arrows and an olive branch to the eagle. In 1821 it was reworked again by removing the clouds and setting the eagle with outstretched wings and a shield on its breast. With only small alterations, over the next two centuries that eagle design became the standard insignia worn by officers and troops in the U. S. Army. My dad wore one on his hats during his 25 year career as an army officer.

  

Today, in honor of the 250th anniversary of America's Declaration of Independence I present a collection of eagles worn by bandsmen, mostly trombonists, who served in regimental bands. The bandsmen also wear a pointy headgear that for a few decades in the late 19th century was the fashionable helmet used by most military bands and troops. 

My first trombonist posed in a photographer's studio leaning casually on a fine upholstered chair in front of a painted scene with weird perspective. It's a half-plate tintype, more correctly called a ferrotype, about 6¼ x 4½ inches, an uncommon  size that's larger than other tintypes of musicians in my collection. His dark color uniform, I'm guessing maroon red, has a cut-away jacket adorned with three rows of brass buttons. His hat is a style resembling British police helmets called custodian helmets first used by the London Metropolitan Police in 1870. 

Since this photo is a tintype it is a unique image that could not be reproduced. Light captured by the collodion emulsion on an iron plate created a reversed image like a mirror. Sharp eyes might have noticed that this man's button seam is on the wrong side and he seems to be holding a left-handed trombone. 

   

Flipping the image with digital software puts the instrument in its proper orientation, bell on left shoulder and slide on right. It also puts the eagle's arrows on the correct side of the insignia. I'm not sure about the cord hanging from his helmet. It may be a chin strap released for the photo. He looks like a young man in his early 20s or even late teens. Notice the photographer has tinted his cheeks pink. I bet it made his mother proud.

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This next photo is a cabinet photo of two bandsmen and a soldier, all wearing pointy helmets with white plumes. There is no mark for photographer or location. All I can guess is they are members of a state militia band somewhere in the United States in the late 19th century. Such bands were made of professional musicians who were hired as a group to perform for a state guard regiment's annual training camps and civic parades. The bandsmen did not serve in the regular army and were paid by each regiment. In 19th century America the most popular entertainment in every town or city was a parade. Any opportunity to rally around the flag and march along with a band excited the public. Regimental bands competed with each other to provide the best music and present the most splendid uniforms.

The two bandsmen play brass instruments and the one seated on the right holds a piston valve instrument with a large bell. The plumbing looks long enough to be a kind of folded up valve trombone. It might be a flugelhorn or bass trumpet, but for the purpose of my theme I'll call it a trombone. I'm sure it sounded the same notes. 

The bandsman on the left has a standard cornet, possibly the higher E-flat model. Their uniforms are very ornate with striped trousers, fancy embroidery and fringed epaulettes. There is a subtle nod to the Grand Seal of the United States as their button embroidery are leaves with thirteen points.

The soldier standing guard in the center is an unusual addition to this trio. Except for his pointy helmet, his unform is very different. He wears a longer coat with white gloves and holds a rifle with a long bayonet fixed to the end. I would not want to be challenged by him for the password of the day.

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This bandsman's portrait is an unusual long 7½ x 4¼ inch Promenade mount but, like the previous photo, has no name of the photographer. The expanded size would have been suitable for a regular slide trombone but this fellow has a stubby piston valve trombone like the previous unknown bandsman. He cuts a fine figure with his trim uniform jacket which has three rows of buttons, a wide white belt and fringed epaulettes.

Piston valve trombones were popular in the 19th century as three valves simplified a traditional trombone's slippery slide system of infinite pitch. Different makers came up with several compact plumbing patterns which made the instrument easier to play while marching in a parade or mounted on a horse. 

According to my copy of the Encyclopedia of United States Army Insignia and Uniforms by William K. Emerson, his helmet eagle is a design from 1881 which added a banner in the eagle's beak. The shield would typically have the regiment's number. His helmet plume was white horsehair and on a detachable mount.

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This next bandsman is another member of the three valved trombone society. He is seated with a casual crossed leg, fingers on the valve buttons, looking direct at us as if to ask, "Have we met before?" His uniform is similar to the previous bandsmen's kit though this man's epaulette fringe seems longer and he wears a white cross-sash belt, attached to which is a small satchel marked HOLYOKE.  His eagle is looking left not right, so I think it pre-dates the previous bandsman, maybe late 1870s. I think he uses a softer conditioner on his plume too. He looks like an affable chap who could tell a good story.

The photographer on this cabinet card photo has an imprint on the back, J. D. Crane Photographic Studio, of No. 63 Dwight St., Holyoke, Massachusetts. Duplicates can be had at any time.  

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My final trombonist under the eagle is pictured on a tintype, in a more typical 3¾ x 2¼ inch format. He wears a white coat with three rows of buttons and lots of gold braid knots, simple shoulder boards instead of fringe epaulettes, and a custodian helmet with a point but without a plume. This photo is fairly dark like most tintypes, but my digital software improves the contrast. His instrument is a B-flat tenor slide trombone which has hardly changed from the sackbut, the trombone's Renaissance ancestor, and remains the same as trombones seen in today's modern bands and orchestras. 

As I often do with tintypes, I reverse the image to the subject's true aspect. This places his trombone in the right orientation but it also revealed a very important detail that was not visible in the other bandsmen's photos. 

It's a number on the eagle.

A regiment number more significant

in the history of American bands
than any other number.

The number is 22, which makes this trombonist a member of one of the most celebrated professional bands of the 19th century, the Band of the Twenty Second Regiment of New York. It was lead by Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore (1829–1892), an Irish-American composer and military bandmaster who immigrated to Boston in 1848. As a young man he established himself as a talented musician and bandleader with a variety of bands. In 1861 at the start of the Civil War, Gilmore's Band joined the 24th Massachusetts Volunteers, accompanying General Ambrose Burnside to North Carolina and later playing for Federal troops in New Orleans. He is credited with writing the lyrics to the song "When Johnny Comes Marching Home". Gilmore expanded a concert band instrumentation to include a larger woodwind section that made his band sound more like an orchestra. 

Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore (1829–1892)
Bandleader of the 22nd Regiment Band, c. 1890−92
Source: Wikimedia

After the war Patrick Gilmore organized massed orchestra and band concerts  with gigantic choruses for the National Peace Jubilee in 1869 and the World's Peace Jubilee and International Musical Festival in 1872. His success in Boston established him as the leading bandmaster of the postwar era. 

In 1873 Gilmore was invited to New York City to take over the band of the 22nd Regiment. This regiment was one of the premier elite state guards which was supported by many wealthy New York families. The band was its public image and with Gilmore it soon became known as "Gilmore's Band." 

Brooklyn Daily Times
21 March 1874

In New York the 22nd Regiment Band competed with fine bands from the 23rd and 7th Regiments. Band concerts were regular features in New York's society season and regimental bands offered a wide variety of music and solo artists. On one concert in March 1874 Gilmore promoted his friend, the great cornetist Matthew Arbuckle (1828–1883), and the saxophone virtuoso Edward A. Lefebre (1834–1911) who introduced New Yorkers to this new novel French instrument. He also had a trombone soloist, Herr Letsch on the same program.

Yonkers, NY Gazette
5 February 1881

 

Many instrumentalists in Gilmore's 22nd Regiment Band earned star billing on his programs and became as well known in New York's entertainment world as stage actors or opera singers. In a concert performed in February 1881 Gilmore listed a trombone soloist named C. Kappa. This was Carlo Alberto Cappa (1834–1893), an Italian-American trombonist who would go on to become a bandmaster in his own right. He is best remembered for leading the celebrated Seventh Regiment Band of New York which I recently featured on this blog in The Seventh Regiment Band, 

Rochester, NY Journal & Post Express
18 September 1883

In September 1883 at a concert in Rochester, New York, Gilmore listed another solo trombonist named Herr Stolz. These regimental bands attracted talented musicians from many nations like Germany, Italy, France, Belgium, and Great Britain. Gilmore's choice of the best soloists helped accelerate the growth of band music in America, especially because these bands also toured the country performing at expositions and state fairs. And everywhere they went, the band marched in a parade.

The Seventh Regiment Band on March
Harper's Weekly, vol. 33, 16 March 1889
Source: HathiTrust.org

This illustration from a March 1889 article in Harper's Weekly shows the Seventh Regiment Band marching on parade. The bandsmen wear tall white helmets with dark plums and dark tunics. The trombone section is in the front rank as their drum major leads the way. The postcard photo in my recent story on The Seventh Regiment Band was taken in 1905 when the band's uniforms, though still brilliant. had changed with the fashions of a new century. By 1900 guard regiments had replaced the pointy custodian helmet with more practical headgear. But for a time it was where the American eagle soared, sparkling atop the heads of spectacular marching bands. 

I will finish this collection of vintage trombonists
with a 2022 performance by the trombone section
of the United States Air Force Band with guest artist
George Curran, bass trombonist of the New York Philharmonic
in a Henry Fillmore's circus screamer, "Rolling Thunder".

And since I post this story on the 4th of July,
it seems fitting to hear the trombone quartet
of The United States Army Field Band
perform the "The Star-Spangled Banner" our national anthem.
It was  arranged by bass trombonist Master Sgt. Wesley Ballenger. 

Please stand.

For more trombonists wearing pointy hats
and fancy uniforms check out:

The Well-Dressed Trombonist
The Well-dressed Trombonist - Valve and Plume Edition
More Tinplated Brass, the Uniform Edition

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where London bridges can sometimes fall up, too.

On the Front Line

It is a frightening sight
that would stop anyone in their tracks.
Soldiers stand in formation blocking a road.
Their steely eyes challenge anyone who advances.

Their weapons are armed and ready.
All their military training 
is concentrated in defense of the front line.
No one will cross.
No one will break through.
Any hostile threat must be repelled at all costs.

Or maybe
they can play a jolly march
and convince their adversaries
to give up and just retreat. 

Once upon a time
these six trombonists posed for a camera.

Their names and the location of their camp are unknown

but they are definitely soldiers and bandsmen
in the United States Army. 

Instead of flashy parade dress

they wear military fatigue uniforms

which unfortunately don't show
any insignia or patches of their unit.

But there is one good clue.

Their canvas leggings match a style
first issued to U. S. Army soldiers in 1907.
This particular uniform accessory was used
in several conflicts in the years before World War One,
but then in 1910 mostly replaced
by leggings with a different design.

U.S. Army M1907 Leggings
Source: The internets

These fellows look like they could spit bullets
as their assault trombones
have rapid slide action.

It's a design that has remained 
standard military issue for several centuries.

Bayonets were reserved for only close quarter combat.

To demonstrate the formidable firepower
of a battery of trombones

here is a line up of around 16 trombonists

playing the circus band classic "Rolling Thunder"
a "screamer" composed by Henry Fillmore in 1916.

This performance took place
at the 2023 American Trombone Workshop

and was accompanied by the United States Army Band "Pershing's Own".

 

There is one trombonist who is wearing a uniform that I don't recognize.
This could be a guest artist from some foreign military band
that evidently doesn't do much marching.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where the line starts on the left. 

Music for A Camel Parade

The bandsmen of France

are most talented lads.

They play notes so sweet

that it charms man or beast.

They can play stirring music

whether seated, or standing, or marching.

But their very best tunes are reserved 

for the Promenade a chameaux—the camel parade!

Except for the printed caption this postcard is unmarked. It's a curious ensemble of three (actually a few more) French bandsmen mounted on three faux camels. My guess is that the photo dates from around 1910-1914, or perhaps even from the time of the Great War. In this era France did have a substantial North African colonial military force which included a camel corps. Whether it included a camel mounted band is something I hoped to discover but my research was unfortunately interrupted.

This goofy post was originally intended for publication two weeks ago, but Hurricane Helene decided to pay a visit to my hometown of Asheville, North Carolina. I've previously lived on the Atlantic coast and know the power and fury of storms, but the magnitude of this one was far beyond anyone's experience. While my home had 100+ year old trees fall on it, the structure escaped major injury and our power is back now and tree crews are cleaning up the mess. My wife and I are okay and consider ourselves very lucky as many areas in Asheville and in communities around Western North Carolina have suffered devastating loss of lives, homes, buildings, and infrastructure. Most of the city of Asheville is still without water as the flash floods destroyed two reservoir networks. It may be weeks before full water service is restored. 

Disasters, both natural and man-made, are sadly far too common in the world today. Please contribute to one of the many emergency relief organizations that are working to give aid and hope to the people affected by these tragic events.

Blogging is a challenge without full Internet service so my future posts may be curtailed but I hope to be writing again soon. Stay tuned.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where no one is ever short of curiosity.

Comrades in Music

Best of buddies.
Real pals.

Close chums.
Favorite mates.

Comrades in arms.
Brothers in wartime.

The friendships made by soldiers
can last a lifetime. 
Photographs of that bond
were common enough
for regular soldiers
in World War One,
but it was just as true
for army musicians too.

Today I present a small sample 
of private photos
of unknown soldiers
who were bandsmen in
the Imperial German Army.

This pair of bandsmen, a hornist and a trombonist, posed for a relaxing moment outdoors while enjoying a smoke. The photographers, Gebrüderen Spahn were a professional studio in Hammelburg, a city in Bayern/Bavaria. They probably arranged to take photos of soldiers who were doing their army training at the Lager-Hammelburg ~ army barracks which were south of the city. Soldiers bought the postcards to send to friends and family back home. The Waffen, the ornate brass plate affixed to the front of their distinctive Pickelhaube helmets matches the pattern used by the Bavarian army. 

The postcard was sent from the Hammelburg Barracks on 13 June/July (?) 1907 to Wohlgeboren (i.e. well born, a title for a minor nobility) J---(?)  F. Müller, a Kaufman ~ merchant in Neustadt, a very common city name in Germany. The addition of "on S." means Neustadt in Sachsen, I think. The Spahn brothers also helpfully included the year 1907 with their printed business name on the back. It's interesting that cigarettes are a favorite prop featured in many similar photos of French soldiers from this era, while German soldiers, especially those from Bavaria, are often depicted smoking pipes.

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This next duo also stand outdoors wearing proper German Pickelhaube but dressed in less formal uniforms with ordinary shoes instead of boots. I think this was the attire worn for indoor concerts which required no marching or ceremonial precision from a band. The tall trumpet player even has a short bandsman's sword attached to his belt, though his companion, a tenor hornist, is missing his sword. The back of the card is blank, so the only clues for identification are their helmet plates. Unfortunately the sunlight glare makes it difficult to see the full design but I think it matches the regimental pattern for Württemberg.

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This next pair of German bandsmen were photographed in a studio standing in front of a painted backdrop of a dramatic cloudy landscape. One soldier holds a tuba and the other a clarinet. They wear dark wool overcoats, boots, and Pickelhauben. On their belts are pouches for their sheet music. Their helmet plates have the Prussian eagle gripping the royal scepter and orb which is a design used by several Prussian infantry regiments.

The postcard is blank except for a stamp of the photographer's studio, H. Kalinke, of Gotha, a large city in Thuringia, Germany,  northeast of Frankfurt and west of Leipzig. However one soldier has left his mark. The clarinetist drew a cross over himself, just in case his parents might not recognize him in uniform. 

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My last photo is not a duo but a quartet of bandsmen in dress uniforms performing outside on tuba, trumpet, horn, and bassoon. Next to them a stout non-commissioned soldier wearing a white fatigue uniform appears to interrupt their concert. He carries a beer keg under one arm and  seems to be offering them a box of cigars, as he is smoking one too. 

Leaning on the horn player's legs is a slate-board sign which has a message written in chalk. The first line, "Albert lebe hoch" is "Albert lives long", but I can't make out the next words to translate them. Presumably it's a humorous comment about the soldier with the beer and cigars.  However the last line is clear, "Schießplatz Jüterbog" translates as "Jüterbog shooting range". Jüterbog is a town in northeastern Germany, in the Teltow-Fläming district of Brandenburg, about 65 km (40 mi) southwest of Berlin. The helmet plate pattern is a Prussian infantry or Garde regiment, similar to those of the bandsmen from Gotha. Notice that they wave short swords too. 

The postcard was never posted but it does have a message on the back. However the handwriting is too broad for me to make out any of the letters. Maybe it's part of the joke. :—)

Since only one postcard has a date, which was from 1907, I can't say that the other photos were taken in that pre-war decade or later during the Great War from 1914-1918. What I can say is that Germans were very fond of band music, uniforms, and cameras. I have found far more personal photos of soldiers in the Imperial German Army than of British, French, Belgian, or American servicemen from the same era. 

The little leather Pickelhauben look silly and impractical to our modern eyes, but at the beginning of the 20th century the spiked Prussian helmet was an important symbol of German military heritage, especially because it was still new as a unified Germany empire did not exist until 1871. These men wore it with pride and were respected for their military music traditions, many of which were borrowed by military bands in France, Britain, and the United States. 

But what I like best about these photos of anonymous bandsmen is that they reveal close personal friendships that come from making music together while serving your country. These musicians genuinely belonged to a band of brothers.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where your only choice

is to fish or cut bait. 

Short People

 

A skilled portrait photographer
always tries to satisfy a customer.
Yet when taking photographs of children
a photographer recognizes that
their clientele is not the child but its parents.
The photographer provides only the camera.
A child's wardrobe, hair, and accessories
are mother's responsibility.

 

 

 

 

 

In the brief time that a photographer
has charge of an unfamiliar child,
they must quickly arrange the subject,
position the lights, focus the camera,
and wait for that perfect moment
to release the shutter.

 

 

 

 

 

Even the best cameramen know they can command
the attention of a young boy or girl for just an instant.
Any delay brings unwanted movement,
a fuzzy eye blink or blurring shudder.
Likewise undue haste might miss
a candid gaze or youthful smile.

 

 

 

 

 

If the photographer's timing is good
they capture a perfect picture for the parents.
An image of childhood yet one full of blooming personality
and brimming with a parent's hope for the future.

Today I present
four beautiful studio photos
of handsome young boys holding musical instruments
that I'm fairly certain
none of them could actually play.

 

 

The first little boy sits on a hard wooden chair that is too tall for his feet to reach the floor. His long hair has been neatly curled and oiled as he gazes at someone to the side of the camera. Mother maybe? He clutches a slide trombone in a tight two-handed grip. The instrument gleams in the studio light showing off its elaborate engraving on the bell. He looks like a child who has been told several times, "Be very careful of Daddy's trombone. Don't drop it!"

 

A trombone's slide has seven positions that lengthen the instrument and give it a full complement of musical notes. It requires a fairly long arm stretch which would clearly be beyond the reach of this boy. My guess is that dad (or maybe mum) aspired that their son might soon take up the instrument. But looking at this kid, I have a hunch he chose something different. Unfortunately his postcard is unmarked so all I know is that it was taken somewhere in America around 1900-1910.

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The next boy is about the same age, around four or five maybe. He is dressed in a dark sailor suit with short knee pants. He stands on a fur rug in front of a large wooden bench and holds a shiny cornet. Once again the lighting picks up the fancy engraving on the bell. His short hair is cut in a military style and pinned to his blouse is a small medal. It resembles the crossed guns insignia worn by a U.S. Navy Gunner's Mate, though it might be the crossed cannon of the U.S. Army artillery or crossed rifles of the infantry. 

 

The way the boy holds the cornet is a not the usual way a real cornet player would hold the instrument. But more critical is that his fingers are too small to mash the valve buttons. So I think this was a picture taken for dad, maybe a sailor serving aboard a navy ship, who also played the cornet. 

 

 

This postcard does have a note on the back but sadly the clues are incomplete. There is a date, April 15: a name, Chas. Erb.; a place, Green Wick, K-town, and a mystery number, –16. 

 

Without a year we have only the little corner triangles in the AZO stamp logo to go by. When two point up and two point down it is roughly a photo paper style that the AZO company produced from 1918 to 1930.

The forename Chas. is Charles, but is Erb. a full surname or an abbreviation? It is an uncommon name in Ancestry.com.

And the place name doesn't match anything in Google Maps. There is no Green Wick, though plenty of Greenwichs. Initially I though K-Town was a short name for Kansas City, but Wikipedia has an entry for K-Town which does not include it. Of the cities in the United States with that nickname are Kaysville, Utah; Knoxville, Tennessee; Kenosha, Wisconsin; and Kearny, New Jersey. My guess is that it signifies Kearny, NJ which is on the Hudson River east of New York City, and near a major naval shipyard.

 

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The next postcard photo is of an older boy, somewhere between 8 and 12 years old. He is dressed in a proper bandsman's uniform and is holding a bassoon that is an inch or two taller. A bassoon is an unusual instrument to find in a small town band. Typically it was played only in large military bands. It's a bass instrument with complicated keys that require a wide finger stretch. This boy's hands are again too small to properly cover the finger holes and keys. 

 

His cap, and braided cord accoutrements are of a military style but a closer look shows his tunic sleeves are folded under and his trousers cuffs are tucked into his socks. This was clearly a borrowed uniform and bassoon to stage a photo for Dad or Grandpa. The photo's location may not even be a photographer's studio but instead it was taken behind a concert stage or even in a residential home. 

There are no marks on this postcard, but the letters, MINN are on the tunic's collar. Minnesota? I date the photo to around 1905-1915. He seems a sharp lad that any dad would be proud to see playing in a band.  

 

 

 

 

 

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The last boy is the oldest in time, though he is only about age 5 or 6. His picture is on a small CdV photo, a carte de viste, taken in the 1870s or 80s. He stands with a tenorhorn in a photographer's studio in front of a crudely painted backdrop. His hair is neatly combed and he wears a sturdy corduroy jacket with knee pants. It's not impossible that he played this instrument, a member of the saxhorn/euphonium brass family. I have several photographs of family bands which had young siblings who played a tenorhorn. However he just doesn't have the air of a real brass player so I'm uncertain.

However his small size certainly fits with my group of diminutive pseudo-musicians. The photo has a backstamp of the photographer, Adolph Rapp of Glasgow, Kentucky. This town is about halfway between Nashville, Tennessee and Louisville, Kentucky. In 1870 Glasgow, KY had a population of 733 residents. It jumped 106.0% to 1,510 in 1880 and then to 2,051 in 1890, so this photo likely comes from Glasgow's boom years.

 

 

 

I can't finish this post about young non-musicians
without showing off what talented kids are capable of
when they get the right musical training.
 

Here is an astonishingly great concert from Japan
by the Hirasanishi Elementary School Brass Band
performing the Benny Goodman classic, "Sing Sing Sing".

Look out for something that is not there
and you will be even more amazed. 

Did you spot any music stands?

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where cuteness in any size is always awesome.