The Big Brass Return

Back in the olden days,
let's call that anytime prior to our own memory,
folks had decidedly fewer things to brag about
than they do in our 21st century.

 

A man might strut about in a new hat or coat;
show off a new pocket watch or custom carriage;
or brag about a fancy necklace he bought for his wife.
But in those olden times men just didn't have  

very many luxury items to choose from. 

Yet in the mid-19th century some fellows
chose to pose for their portrait leaning on
a very large, shiny brass contraption

twisted into a complicated form
with valves and slides.

These were not ordinary pictures
for friends and family.
They wanted us to pay attention.
This was a musician in charge
of the foundational notes in music.
The Big Brass. 

Today I present four portraits 
of gentlemen who posed with their pride and joy,

a Bass Saxhorn.

My first musician is a young man who proudly posed with his over-the-shoulder E-flat bass saxhorn. The image was developed on a dark metal tintype or ferrotype photograph, roughly 2¼ by 3¾ inches. The little tintype plate is inserted into the camera and captures the light onto a special emulsion that the photographer has painted on the thin sheet metal. It records a positive mirror image instead of a negative image like on film. Consequently his face and saxhorn are reversed from a true likeness. 

This is clear when you look at his cap which has reversed letters. When I "flip" the image using digital software we can see how the instrument, now properly oriented, was played balanced on the left shoulder with the right hand on the valve keys. The letters on his cap now read C. C. BAND. The tintype process produces a unique single photo that was not reproducible at the time. It was popular in America from from around 1859 to 1880. The simplicity of the background on this young man's photo suggests it was a quick novelty photo, maybe taken outdoors or in a tent by a photographer working a fair or amusement park where this man's band was performing. 

1868 catalog of the Isaac Fiske Brass Instrument Company
of Worchester, Massachusetts  

Over-the-shoulder saxhorns were a brass instrument family that became popular in America bands  in the years before the Civil War of 1861-1865. The design originated in Paris in 1845 with a patent by Adolphe Sax who wanted to create a set of conical brass instruments which would cover a full range of sound from sopranino to contrabass. His original patent was for saxhorns with upright bells but the plumbing design cleverly allowed for different configurations. In America the saxhorn bell was arranged to rest on the player's left shoulder with the bell pointing backwards. Since a band usually marched at the head of a parade, this rear-facing bell aimed the music back toward the marching soldiers, thereby keeping everyone in military step. 

The bass saxhorns were especially popular because previously there had been no brass instruments capable of producing low bass tones LOUDLY. The slide trombone in this era had a narrow cylindrical bore and did not have as dominant a voice as it would later have in modern times. It was also difficult to play in tune, given the infinite positions of the slide. But saxhorn's conical bore gave it a greater dynamic range and its valve action let it play in tune over a full chromatic scale. Adolphe Sax's best known invention, of course, was the saxophone which is also made of brass and comes in a variety of sizes. 

1869 catalog of the Boston Musical Instrument Manufactory 

In the 1860s saxhorns were produced by a number of American band instrument companies who marketed them as a ready-made set in seven sizes beginning with the smaller soprano voiced E-flat and B-flat cornets and then expanding to alto, tenor, baritone, bass, and contrabass saxhorns. Manufacturers also offered the same set in an optional design with the bell pointing upwards. In 1868 an Isaac Fiske E-flat bass in brass would cost $130. Made with German Silver, a shiny nickel plate finish, added $20 to the price.  According to the website calculator at www.in2013dollars.com that $130 bass saxhorn in 1867 would now cost around $2,846 in 2025.    

 

My second bass saxhorn player is pictured with his instrument on a carte de visite, a photo made by an albumen print from a collodion negative. Mounted on cardstock it is about 4½ x 2½ inches, roughly the same size as the tintype but lacking some of its clarity. First introduced in the late 1850s, the carte de visite, or cdv, was contemporary with the tintype but it overtook the tintype in popularity because its process allowed for multiple copies from an original negative. Most photographers offered a dozen prints for $1.00.   

Dressed in a bandsman's uniform this man rests his elbow on top his saxhorn's bell. His long uniform coat, epaulet bars, and kepi hat are similar to the uniform of a Union army regimental band. Unfortunately the cdv has no imprint on the back for the photographer, so the bandsman's location could be anywhere. But his cap does have letters above the brim. The focus is not very clear but I think it reads: WA & ** 58 I.  The WA would stand for Washington D.C. but it might be MA for Massachusetts instead. I think this photo dates from the Civil War years mainly because his uniform is very simple. After the war ended uniforms became very elaborate with lots of ornamental braid and fancy shako hats with feather plumes. 

 

Band of 107th U.S. Colored Infantry
Source: Library of Congress

A military band in the 1860s was largely just a brass band with drums. Generally woodwind instruments were not used though a few bands included a single E-flat clarinet or piccolo to play high treble melodies. In this photo from the Library of Congress archives, the Band of 107th U.S. Colored Infantry stands at attention outside the band's barracks. It was taken during the Civil War. The band of 18 musicians has a full set of over-the-shoulder brass instruments from cornets on the left to basses on the right. The bandleader stands on the left with a front-facing cornet. A band like this would typically perform concerts standing in a circle around their leader with all their instrument bells facing outward like the spokes of a wagon wheel. This amplified the band's sound and allowed their music to be heard all over an army's encampment.

My next bass saxhorn player is not dressed as a military bandsman but is clearly a dapper young civilian with his feet casually crossed and with, again, an elbow resting on his saxhorn's bell. This is another unmarked cdv so it is impossible to identify his location. But I think the round corners of the cardstock dates it to after the war, maybe 1870s. Notice the ribbon on his lapel. A prize for a band competition? Maybe a souvenir of a fraternal convention? 

Unknown Union regimental band
from Dowagiac, Michigan
Source: Library of Congress

In this albumen photo from the Library of Congress archives we see a Union regimental brass band from Dowagiac, Michigan. There are twelve men posed with a set of ten over-the-shoulder saxhorns and a pair of drums. They appear to be in a photographer's studio, but I suspect this was taken outdoors. Most of the brass instruments of this era used rotary valves, a German invention, rather than French piston valves. Like any technology in the early industrial age, musical instrument companies were constantly seeking to improve designs and boost sales of their instruments. The rotary valves in the 1860s were not as reliable and had a slower action than piston valves, so by the 1880s American musicians no longer favored over-the-shoulder saxhorns and instead switched to piston valve cornets, euphoniums, helicons, and tubas. 

My last saxhorn player is also in civilian dress with a velvet collar suit coat and satin vest. He upends the standard saxhorn pose to have his instrument resting on its bell. I believe it is the smaller B-flat bass. His chinstrap beard gives him a very patrician air, not a farmer but a businessman, I think. He is also posed in a kind of improvised studio with a linoleum floor and a simple fabric backdrop. 

Surprisingly, he is one of the few musicians in my collection of saxhorn players that has a name. On the back of this cdv is written Samuel Miller and there is an imprint for the photographer, too. "Photographed by Geo. W. Wilcox, Travelling Photographer". Unfortunately both names are too common and not enough to identify where or when this photo was taken. My best guess is sometime in the 1870s and somewhere in Pennsylvania, which was known to have a lot of itinerant photographers and Quaker chin beards.

These men chose to include their saxhorn in their portrait for a reason. It was not a photographer's prop. They wanted to project an image of personal pride and of musical accomplishment. In a way the saxhorn could be a tool signifying their occupation as a musician or a symbol of their musical avocation. But in the mid-19th century a big shiny saxhorn was also something to show off and brag about. Look at me. Listen to my voice. I play the BIG BRASS.  

Here is great video of Tanner Morgan,
band director of Edmond Memorial High School, in Edmond, Oklahoma, 

demonstrating his E-flat Over-the-Shoulder Bass Saxhorn.
His instrument has piston valves instead of the rotary valves seen in my photos.

His YouTube channel Musical Maintenance has more terrific videos 
of his school's Historical Brass Band. 

And here is a short 1955 film of

"Rally Round the Flag" by G.F. Root
played by "The Presidents Own" United States Marine Band
on authentic early instruments including a rank
of over-the-shoulder saxhorns.
Where they found these antique instruments is as big a puzzle
as some of the mysteries in my vintage photographs.
Maybe they borrowed them from the Smithsonian Museum?

For more photos and history 
of over-the-shoulder brass instruments
click these links to my other stories: 
The Big Brass

Mr. Lincoln's Bandsmen
Music for Lawn Tennis

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where bloggers around the globe
celebrate 800 weeks of inspiration!

Babes and Mutts

  

Kids can be a real handful. 
They always seem to be rushing around,
getting into stuff they shouldn't,
and generally making a mess for mom and dad.

Even when they're infants and less mobile
they still require a lot of attention
since babies fall over so easily.

 Dogs can be a nuisance too.
Equally as curious and suspicious as children
they are easily provoked into dashing about
on their more stable four-legged drive,

which gives them an advantage over toddlers,
and makes them much harder to catch. 

If only there was some way to keep kids and dogs
confined in some kind of portable safety device. 

Fortunately for parents and dog owners
both children and dogs
can be successfully trained
for proper social behavior
if you have the right equipment. 

A tuba.

This photo postcard shows two hefty babes stuffed into the bell of a tuba. They are posed with a parent clutching the tuba, an EE-flat three piston model, while seated on the stoop of what, presumably, is their home. The children are dressed in winter woolen wear with caps. The print is faded, which I have corrected a bit, and is marred by circular marks pressed into the image.  The postcard was never mailed but has a note on the back.

Gertrude, Cliff and Bob  Sipe 

The reason I say parent is that I'm unsure whether it is mom or dad holding the tuba. The name order suggests that the child on left with the bow is Gertrude, with Cliff, the dad, center, and Bob the child on the right. But looking closely I'm also wondering if the adult may be a woman. The lower legs look like they are covered with a dress and an apron. The face also looks more feminine than masculine. Perhaps she is Gertrude and Cliff and Bob are the children. Or maybe Bob Sipe is the dad and he holds Gertrude and Cliff in his tuba. It's a puzzle that sadly Ancestry.com could not solve as the surname Sipe did not turn up any matches in those different combinations. But still it is a charming snapshot, though unplugging two infants from a tuba can't have been easy.  One of those babes is bound to complain. Besides no self-respecting tubist should ever use a pair of mutes together. That would just stop its bass tones altogether.  

My second photo is unusual because it's a rare use of a small canine as a tuba mute. This bandsman has his helicon, a type of bass tuba with plumbing worn over the shoulder, resting on the ground while his dog, a small boxer or large Boston terrier relaxes in the instrument's bell. Dogs usually can keep a good metronomic beat with their tail, and can sing howl along to the music, too. But these breeds often have docked tails which aren't as good as a Labrador or Collie. Their toenails also scratch the inside of the bell. But clearly in a pinch, a smallish dog can work as a tuba mute as well as any baby. 

On the front of this  postcard photo the musician signed his name: Stanley Paddack.  Unfortunately, though the surname is not common, there were no clear matches in Ancestry.com. If only we knew the name of the dog. Maybe Stanley is the dog's name and Paddack its master. Who knows. It's another unsolvable tuba mystery.

For more photos of babes in tubas and helicons
try these stories:

The Family Portrait
The Bassic Baby Carrier
Another Tuba Baby
Tuba Babies

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where no one can say no to a basket of puppies.

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.

***

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.

***

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. 

***

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. 

The Elegant Tuba

 

 For most women a tuba
is not a common fashion accessory.
It's generally too big
to fit into a lady's handbag
and tuba slide grease can leave
unsightly stains on a white blouse.

 

 

 

 But for a few select women
a tuba's gleaming sensuous curves
add a touch of classy refinement
that sparkles more than any gilded jewelry.
 

 

 

The tuba's understated but elegant form
enhances a woman's figure
as well as any violin or flute.
Which is why clever fashionable women
know that a tuba will always complement 

their choice of evening gown or teatime frock.

Today I present a curated selection of portraits
of female tuba players.

 

 

We begin with a cabinet card photograph of young woman dressed in a long dark gown and holding a silvery tuba. Her skirt is made of a very textured fabric and her bodice is a matching satin, I think. It is difficult to be certain of the color, but it looks more black than the sepia tones of dark blue or deep red. Her blouse has a high collar and long sleeves in an interesting geometric pattern. She gazes direct into the camera lens of S. P. Eggan of 251-3 Cedar Ave. in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

The photographer's stylized embossed logo looks like the initials S. A. Eggan, but the first letter has a larger swirl that makes the letter P. This matches the name Sever P. Eggans who was a photographer in Minneapolis. Born in Norway in 1869, Sever's name first appears as a photographer at 251 Cedar Ave. in the 1888 Minneapolis city directory working with Ole P. Eggan, who I believe was his brother. Yet by the 1892 directory Sever P. Eggan listed his occupation as retoucher for the A. B. Rugg studio. However in the 1897 city directory, Sever P. Eggan returned to 251 Cedar Ave. with his own photography studio, though without Ole P. Eggan who seems to have left Minneapolis. Sever maintained a studio at that location in Minneapolis through the 1920s until his death in 1929. (Many names, including my own, have trouble with alternate spellings, but the directory listing for Eggan included a warning to also check Eagan, Egan, Eggen.)

 

With this business history, and since the studio marked does not read Eggan Brothers, it seems fair to date this photo as no earlier than 1897.  It's curious that the S in the logo resembles the musical symbol for a treble clef. Perhaps Mr. Eggan had an interest in music too. His studio certainly catered to musicians as the second portrait was taken there too.

 

 

This young woman poses with a slightly smaller tuba, which I believe is a euphonium and not a baritone horn. She wears a dark gown of the same material as the previous woman and cut in similar style. Clearly both women are wearing a coordinated formal dress, a style better suited for an orchestra rather than a band concert. 

 

Their two instruments are a similar conical design but of different sizes, the smaller euphonium in B-flat and the larger tuba in E-flat. There are tubas made in larger sizes typically with 4 valves for lower bass notes, but these three valve models would have been the more common bass instruments in bands of the 1890s, with the higher voice of the euphonium assigned the more melodic solo lines. It's interesting that both instruments are polished to a lustrous shine that required the photographer to pay special attention to the studio lighting. I suspect they may even be brand new instruments for the two ladies and might have been the reason they had their photo taken.

* * *

 

 

The third tubist's portrait is a young woman in a dark dress, maybe blue or green, that is made of ordinary matte fabric ornamented with a high collar and some pearl beads on her chest. She holds her tuba securely with an arm through the upper tubing and gazes off to the camera's right. She wears a soft cap, almost boyish with only a hint of brim, if any. It's very like the homemade uniforms worn by many of the "ladies' bands" in my collection.

The photographer's mark reads: R. A. Ewing, Oklahoma City. There was a photographer named Robert A. Ewing in the 1902 Oklahoma City directory, which was the oldest directory available, and he operated a studio until at least 1942. But I was only able to find him in one census record from 1950 that showed he was born in Virginia in 1872. By that time he was retired, so I don't know when he established his photography studio in Oklahoma City. This style of cabinet card might be late 1890s but the grey card stock feels more like early 1900 to me. Oklahoma achieved statehood in 1907 and Oklahoma City is its state capital. In 1890 the city's population was 4,151 and by 1900 it grew 142% to 10,037. During the next decade it jumped an astounding 540% taking the population to 64,205. 

Her instrument is similar to the euphonium, but it may have more cylindrical tubing, in which case it would be a baritone or tenor horn. The nomenclature of the low brass family is very confusing and I'm only a horn player so I won't try to explain it. Basically it's all about the plumbing.

* * *

 

 

I can't resist including one more tuba player from about the same era, roughly 1895 to 1905, that I featured in a story from November 1917, The Elegant Low Brass of Philadelphia. She is seated in the studio of Franz Meynen, a German photographer who emigrated to Philadelphia in 1874. It's one of my favorite portraits with the tubist seated and resting her arm thoughtfully on her upturned tuba, almost as if she was a Grecian or Roman marble sculpture. Her instrument is another E-flat tuba like the one in Minneapolis, but not as shiny. Follow the link to see her trombone companions.

 

Minneapolis and Oklahoma City, not to mention Philadelphia, were becoming major centers for culture when these photos were produced. Beginning around 1885 both Minneapolis and Oklahoma City had female bands and orchestras that performed in their city's parks and theaters, either as touring companies or organized by local talent. Unfortunately tuba players, male or female, do not get much notice in newspapers so I am unable to offer a name for any of these four women. And because there were so many different groups I can't presume to identify their musical group either.

 

All we are left to admire
is their beauty, poise, charm,
and good fashion sense
to include a tuba in their portrait.

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where mothers always know best.

More Tinplated Brass, the Uniform Edition

 

American musicians used to pay strict attention
to the gleam of their brass buttons,
the fringe on their shoulder boards,
and the frill in their shako.

 

 

 

 Collars and cuffs,
 aiguillettes and epaulets,
braids and buckles,
all required fuss and bother to assemble
into a proper bandsman's uniform.

Today I feature a selection
of ferrotype photos—tintypes
of musicians in their best dress uniform.
It's a continuation of my story from earlier this year
The Tinplated Brass.

As we admire these outfits and instruments,
all members of the low brass family,
let us appreciate that each musician
has either just finished, or is about to commence,
marching in a long parade with their fellow bandsmen.

It would not be an exaggeration to say
that 19th century America
was one endless parade
of scintillating music played by men
in seriously flashy uniforms.

{click any image for a closer look}

 

The first ferrotype is of a bandsman dressed in a fancy cutaway jacket with tails, triple rows of buttons, striped trousers, and a plumed shako hat.  His instrument has a kind of flugelhorn shape with a large bell, almost a bass trumpet in size. He stands in front backdrop with a fake interior scene painted with a very poor sense of perspective

 

A ferrotype, or tintype photograph captures light through a camera lens as a reflection onto a photographic emulsion that was painted onto a thin metal sheet. It was typically made of iron but despite its name, never of tin. The exposure creates a positive image much like the reverse image we see in a mirror. It's very similar to the grey-tone images made by daguerreotype and ambrotype photographs. But like those early photography mediums the ferrotype was a singular unique image that couldn't be duplicated. Nonetheless the ferrotype photo proved popular with the public in the 1865-1885 era because it required very little preparation by the photographer and the result was very cheap to produce.

 

Because these photos produce mirror image, I like to flip them with digital photo software to show the musical instruments as they would really be played. In this case, all brass instruments, with the exception of my instrument, the French horn, are designed with valve keys played with the right hand. Here is the same bandsman now reversed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

This next portrait shows a trombonist dressed in a similar uniform as the previous bandsman. However this man's jacket has two ornamental braided cords, the aiguillettes, draped over his chest. This military decoration has no practical purpose though its placement is particular to regimental traditions. 

 

The instrument is a piston valve trombone, possibly in E-flat as it looks shorter than the standard B-flat models. It also has engraved designs on the bell. The image above is what the tintype looks like without any digital correction. Here is how it looks flipped horizontally and with better contrast.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next bandsman's picture once lived in a 19th century photo case. The light ovoid halo around the image is the stain from the paper or metal matte. Ferrotypes often have irregular edges because they were cut from a larger piece of sheet metal. Some were as small as a postage stamp called "gem", and were intended to be displayed in a locket. Others were very large, 11" x 14" which necessitated a larger camera and special processing. These were of course more expensive. This one came in the most popular size called a "Bon-ton", approximately 2-3⁄8" × 3-1⁄2" (60 mm × 89 mm). It's about the same size as the carte de visite, or CdV which was introduced to the public in the 1860s at the same time as the ferrotype. But unlike the ferrotype the CdV is made with a negative that could be easily and quickly reproduced to make more copies of a photograph.

 

The bandsman's uniform is  a variation of the others and I think it's a style from around 1876, the Bicentennial of the United States, which was an event when every band in America, at least those from the northern states, wanted to look sharp when it joined in the celebrations. The instrument is a type of saxhorn with three rotary valves. It's about the same length as the previous valve trombone, an alto, I think, with a bell that points up. Here the image is reversed to show the man's right hand in proper playing position.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

This bandsman's portrait began my parade of ferrotypes and I have reversed it to show the difference between his tenor saxhorn and the previous alto saxhorn. Both have bells up but this instrument is longer with a larger bell so that it makes a lower pitched sound. It also has keys place atop the valves, called top action rotary valves TARV, where the other smaller saxhorn has side action rotary valves, SARV. Neither design is used on modern brass instruments.  

This fellow's picture is very clear and demonstrates how tintypes can have a very realistic quality despite the photo's dark appearance. Many early CdVs do not have this level of clarity where you can see the grain of the plume's feathers and the twist of the epaulet's fringe.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Most of my collection of musician ferrotypes are cornet players, the soloists of any band or orchestra in this era, roughly 1865–1890. But for this presentation I've chosen a selection of low brass instrumentalists. This tuba player's photo is originally fairly dark but when reversed and contrast corrected, we see his tuba the right way around, if upside down resting on the bell, and a pretty clear portrait with even a hint of rouge in his cheeks added by the photographer.

The uniforms are often misinterpreted as military type, which is only partly true. The styles and decorations resemble official army and sometime navy uniforms, but these were not musicians in the regular army. In the post-Civil War era, army regiments did not typically have full-time bands dressed like this. These musicians were not soldiers but represented semi-professional civilian bands that on occasion accompanied state volunteer militias, the precursors to the National Guard.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

My last ferrotype is of a pair of young brass players. One holds an SARV B-flat trumpet and the other "wears" a tenor helicon over his shoulder. Their uniforms are equipped with white belts and harness to hold a music pouch. They also wear wide brimmed hats instead of shakos with one side turned up and a dark feather on the crown. The boys don't look much above 16 or 19 years old, but their hats give them a rakish debonair look that must have impressed the girls as they marched by. Look closely at the helicon player and you can see a small cluster of flowers pinned to his jacket.

 

When image correction and reversal is applied, the letters WCB are revealed on their belt buckles and one music pouch. There is also a hint of pink on their cheeks, again applied by the photographer after the ferrotype was processed.

 

 

Prices for the early daguerreotype and ambrotype photographs of musicians tend to reach hundreds if not thousands of dollars. Yet ferrotype/tintype photos generally go for much less while displaying more variety in subjects. Unfortunately it is very rare to find any clues as to where and when the photos were taken, much less the identities of the musicians, as there was no place to write a note on the metal. Scratches on the back would only ruin the image's emulsion on the front.

 

There are more tinplated musicians in my collection
so stay tuned for another sequel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where no matter where you look
there's always something interesting to see.