This Month in Recording-Industry History: A Random Chronology, February 1889 – February 1949

This Month in Recording-Industry History:
A Random Chronology, February 1889 – February 1949
By Allan Sutton

 

For more information on any of these topics, see American Record Company and Producers, 1888 – 1950: An Encyclopedic History, newly released by Mainspring Press.

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February 1889 — Traveling with an “improved phonograph,” Edison engineer Theo Wangemann makes experimental live musical recordings at various New York and Boston locations. Wangemann is also present at an exhibition during which cornetist Theodore Hoch and vocalist Effie Stewart are recorded via telephone. [1]

February 18, 1889 — The New Jersey Phonograph Company is organized in Newark. [2] The company is not particularly successful in promoting the phonograph for business use, but it flourishes in the entertainment field. In February 1893 it is reorganized as the United States Phonograph Company (not to be confused with the later producer of U-S Everlasting cylinders).

February 7, 1890 — The Chicago Central Phonograph Company officially commences business, according to its stock offering notice. [3] In May 1890, general manager George Hoit reports, “The entertainment department is quite a feature with us and will be more so in the near future.” The Chicago Tribune reports in July 1892, “Everybody who comes to town with any reputation as an actor, a vocalist, or a good story-teller, is importuned to try his hand, or rather his voice, in the department where amusement cylinders are manufactured… [Some] stories are of a Rabelaisian character, to be reserved by purchasers for private edification and instruction, but the bulk of them will pass muster for general use.” [4]

February 16, 1893 — Henry Lewis, Andrew Taylor, and J. Marvin Carson file a certificate of organization for the United States Phonograph Company, successor to the New Jersey Phonograph Company. New Jersey president George Frelinghuysen and general manager Victor Emerson retain their positions and are joined by George Tewksbury and Simon Ott, who were previously associated with the Kansas and Nebraska Phonograph companies. The company shares a building with a Swift’s meat-packing plant, where banjoist Fred Van Eps recalled, “They had the hams and carcasses downstairs and the records upstairs.”

February 19, 1895 — Emile Berliner’s patent #534,543 (originally filed on March 30, 1892) is finally granted. [5] One of the most important and most litigated patents in the phonograph industry, it contains thirty-five new claims and improvements, including the key specification was that the stylus be propelled by the lateral-cut groove itself. Later acquired by the Victor Talking Machine Company, and cross-licensed to American Graphophone (Columbia), the patent assures control of the lateral-cut disc market by those two companies.

February 1898 — A venture of soprano Estella Mann, the Lyric Phonograph Company places its first advertisement this month. Although Mann is widely credited in modern works as the first female to own and manage a record company, it appears from a Phonosocope notice that John Havens actually managed the company. [6] Nevertheless, The Phonoscope praises Mann for “the manner in which she has clung to her business as many difficulties have confronted her in the past. This lady possesses a nerve which is seldom seen in the opposite sex.”

February 3, 1898 — The Universal Talking Machine Company is incorporated to compete with Emile Berliner’s Gramophone venture. Its Zonophone products prove to be popular, and in 1903 Victor president Eldridge Johnson reluctantly acquires a majority interest in the company. Universal Talking Machine is never owned outright by the Victor Talking Machine Company, contrary to many accounts. [7]

February 1902 — Victor president Eldridge Johnson sells the Globe Record Company (which he had acquired a month earlier) to the American Graphophone Company (Columbia) for his original $10,000 purchase price, along with Columbia president Edward Easton’s promise to abandon pending patent-infringement suits against Victor. Victor Emerson, Columbia’s recording manager, takes possession of the Globe masters and recording equipment on February 13, 1902. The acquisition provides Columbia its long sought-after entry into the disc market. Globe’s Climax label is quickly withdrawn in favor of Columbia’s own.

February 1902 — Nipper, the “Victor dog,” appears on Victor labels for the first time, although he had already been featured prominently in Victor advertising. The company registers several alternate versions during 1903–1904. One substitutes a woman in evening gown for Nipper, while another substitutes an ape. Aside from a special variation for the Asian market, with a man in Chinese garb substituted for Nipper (because, according to The Music Trade Review, the Chinese find the depiction of dogs “distasteful”), none appears on a commercially issued record.

February 1902 — The first catalog of Edison Gold Moulded cylinders is published, comprising remakes of 678 brown-wax titles (most of which retain their original catalog numbers) and a single new release (#8003), the first Edison recording to be offered only in molded form. Production of brown-wax cylinders, excepting recording blanks and the five-inch Concert Records, is discontinued on July 25, 1902.

February 1904 — John O. Prescott announces plans to open a pressing plant. [8] The new operation, to be called the American Record Company, is affiliated with the International Talking Machine Company in Germany (the producers of Odeon records). Prescott serves as general manager, in partnership with Ellsworth A. Hawthorne and Horace Sheble. The ornate lithographed labels depict a pipe-smoking American Indian listening to a phonograph, with the slogan, “Music Hath Charms.” Hawthorne claims that the inspiration came from a friend who had observed the calming effect that phonograph music had on a group of American Indians he was escorting to the St. Louis Exposition. The blue-shellac discs, introduced in October 1904, attract a great deal of attention, including that of the American Graphophone Company (Columbia), which in 1907 finally succeeds in shutting the company down for patent infringement. [9]

February 1, 1904 – The Victor Talking Machine Company makes the first American recordings by tenor Enrico Caruso. The session is held in Victor’s Carnegie Hall Annex studio, with C. H. H. Booth accompanying on piano. (Although the pianist is listed as unknown in some discographies, recording engineer Harry Sooy confirmed it was Booth). Sooy recalled that Caruso “had a very bad frog, or husky spot, in his voice in the record entitled ‘Tosca—E lucevan le stele,’ and when Mr. Child played this selection for him, we fully expected he would want to remake it, but he absolutely refused, claiming that it was an emotional effect.” [10]

February 23, 1907 – Victor dispatches Harry Sooy, in the company of his wife, on a recording expedition to Cuba. Sooy returns a month later with 171 recordings for the Cuban market. [13]

February 1907 — Columbia Phonograph Company managers receive advance copies of the first Marconi Velvet Tone Records catalog. A lightweight laminated celluloid disc, pressed from standard Columbia masters, the records feature the likeness of radio inventor Guglielmo Marconi, whose only contribution is to lend his name to the venture. Marconi is granted the title of “consulting physicist,” given a quick tour of the Columbia plant, treated to a banquet, then sent back to Italy. In fact, the records are the invention of Columbia engineer Thomas Macdonald. [14]

February 3, 1908 — Victor completes the installation of a new recording machine in its New York studio and hosts a mass gathering of celebrity artists, with Sembrich, Severina, Jacoby, Caruso, Scotti, Daddi, and Journet present for recordings of the sextet from Lucia di Lammermoor and the quartet from Rigoletto. According to engineer Harry Sooy recalled, “These were, indeed big engagements and everybody concerned were on their toes with anxiety. And, when we heard the finished records, they were not considered good enough.” The entire group returns on February 7 for successful remakes. There is tremendous publicity surrounding the release of the sextet, which at $7 is the most expensive record in the Victor catalog. [15]

February 8, 1908 — It is announced that the Talk-O-Phone Company of Toledo, Ohio, has been petitioned intro bankruptcy. [11] The company has been one of the most persistent infringers of Victor’s and Columbia patents, but operations are finally halted by the granting of a permanent injunction in April. [12] Co-owner Albert Irish files for personal bankruptcy, claiming liabilities of $464,790 in connection with personal loans and notes to the company. The moral, Irish tells The Talking Machine World, is “don’t fool with buzz-saws.” He is later indicted for embezzlement in an unrelated case.

February 1910 — Victor introduces a purple-label series, priced midway between black labels and Red Seals. Something of a catch-all line, its catalog runs the gamut from popular recordings by Broadway headliners to classical and operatic material by concert artists deemed not quite worthy of Red Seal status. The initial offering is dominated by Harry Lauder, who records twenty-four titles during a single December 1909 session in advance of the launch. [16]

February 1910 — All Zonophone recording activity is transferred to the Victor studios, under the supervision of Victor personnel. A new “Z”-prefixed master-numbering series is started for Zonophone masters, which are not to be used on standard Victor releases. The Universal Talking Machine Company’s Zonophone studio is closed, and some employees are laid off. Others are hired by Victor, including former Zonophone musical director Edward (Eddie) King, who is assigned to Victor’s New York studio. [17]

February 28, 1911 — Thomas A. Edison, Inc., is chartered to combine the inventor’s widely diversified companies, including the National Phonograph Company, under a single corporate entity.

February 11, 1915 — Harry Sooy and other members of the Victor Recording Department travel to Independence Hall in Philadelphia to record Mayor Smith tapping the Liberty Bell. The ceremony is transmitted by telephone to San Francisco to signal the official opening of the Pan American Exposition. Sooy is unimpressed: “Don’t ask me whether or not the Liberty Bell sounds like a bell, because I shall tell you, ‘It does not.’” [18]

February 26, 1917 — The Original Dixieland Jazz Band makes the first jazz recordings (“Livery Stable Blues” / “Dixieland Jass Band One-Step”), which are released on Victor 18255 in April 1917. Marketed as a novelty offering, the record becomes a surprise hit, but in the meantime, the ODJB has moved on (first to Columbia, then to Aeolian-Vocalion). In 1918, the band returns to Victor, which this time offers it a lengthier contract. [19]

February 1920 — The Scranton Button Company (a major independent pressing plant) reports the theft of an estimated ten-thousand records by a ring of female employees, who are said to have smuggled the records out in “pockets made in their underskirts.” [20]

February 1921 — The Arto company releases two blues-inflected titles featuring singer Lucille Hegamin (who had earlier been rejected by Victor), in the wake of Okeh’s success with Mamie Smith’s “Crazy Blues.” The popularity of Hegamin’s early releases helps to fuel other companies’ interest in the new race-record market.

February 1921 — The General Phonograph Corporation (Okeh) begins recording masters for the short-lived American Odeon Corporation, under the management of Miguel Voglhut. A redundant entity within the Carl Lindström organization, American Odeon is liquidated in early 1922, [21] and General Phonograph takes over U.S. production and marketing of the Odeon label, as a classical and ethnic line.

February 1921 — The Emerson Phonograph Company launches its Regal Record Company subsidiary, headed by Emerson general manager H. T. Leeming. The 50¢ Regal record retails for 25¢ less than most brands and uses the same recordings as the full-priced Emerson line, albeit usually disguised by artist pseudonyms. The records sell well, revealing a strong market for moderately priced discs that will soon be crowded with competitors.

February 24, 1921— Victor executive Belford G. Royal announces that a Victor recording studio and matrix-processing plant is to be built in South America. Charles Althouse, who has headed many of Victor’s foreign recording expeditions and speaks Spanish fluently, is chosen to manage to new operation.  [22]

February 1922 — The Bridgeport Die & Machine Company (Bridgeport, Connecticut) begins pressing Puritan records from the New York Recording Laboratories’ Paramount masters, for East Coast distribution. [23] The couplings and catalog numbers often deviate from those on NYRL’s own version of Puritan, much to the confusion of early discographers.

February 1922 — Cameo records are introduced by the Cameo Record Corporation, which had begun recording in November 1921 under the supervision of Earle W. Jones. Originally a 50¢ budget-priced line, Cameo is meant to compete with Emerson’s popular Regal label. The quality soon declines, along with the price.

February 1922 — The Nordskog Phonograph Recording Company is incorporated in Los Angeles. It is owned and operated by Andrae (Arne) Nordskog, who claims that his is the first West Coast recording company. Disputing that claim is Theophilus Fitz, whose competing Golden Record Company had been incorporated two months earlier but not yet produced any recordings. Nordskog is already recording (pre-incorporation) by the time Golden’s studio opens in late January 1922. [24]

February 17, 1922 — The Marsh Laboratories are incorporated in Chicago to develop, manufacture, buy, sell, and lease sound recordings. [25] Formerly affiliated with the Essanay movie studio, Orlando Marsh employs an electrical recording process (which he never patents) that uses a double-button carbon microphone attached to various sound-focusing devices, including an antiquated phonograph horn. Although Marsh’s recordings suffer from a variety of ailments, including limited frequency response, distortion, and low volume levels, they demonstrate the commercial potential of electrical recording three years before Victor and Columbia begin recording electrically.

February 27, 1922 — Hearings begin in U.S. District Court (Brooklyn) in Victor Talking Machine Co. v. Opera Disc Distributing Co. and Max Hesslein. At issue is Opera Disc’s sale of imported German pressings from Victor’s Red Seal masters. Copyright laws do not protect sound recordings, so Victor’s attorneys attack Opera Disc on the grounds that the company was founded while a state of war still technically existed between the United States and Germany, making sale of the records illegal. Lawyers for Opera Disc counter that the U.S. courts have no jurisdiction in matters regarding official acts of foreign nations. The case is ultimately decided in Victor’s favor, with the granting of a permanent injunction that shuts down Opera Disc. [26]

February 26, 1923 —Victor engineer Harry Sooy is instructed to begin preparing equipment in anticipation of opening a permanent studio in California. [27] In March, the company discloses to its staff that the location will be in Oakland.

February 1924 — Brunswick signs Al Jolson to a highly publicized “million-dollar” contract, making him the highest-paid popular recording artist of the period. Jolson is later given a seat on Brunswick’s board of directors.

February 1924 — Western Electric officials offer to license the company’s electrical recording system to the Victor Talking Machine Company. When Victor president Eldridge Johnson balks at the terms, Western Electric extends its offer to Columbia, which begins conducting experimental electrical recording sessions during the summer of 1924. [28]

February 1925 — Herbert S. Berliner, of the Compo Company (Canada) begins installing electrical recording equipment in his New York studio, which at the time is being used to produce Ajax race records. The studio is later frequently used by Pathé, during its transition to electrical recording, and it also records a few masters for Gennett. [29]

February 3, 1925 — Western Electric recording equipment arrives at Victor’s Camden studios for testing. Western Electric engineer Maxfield inspects the layout the following day and pronounces it satisfactory. [30] The shipment also includes one of Bell Laboratories’ new exponential-horn acoustical phonographs, which Victor will manufacture and market under the Orthophonic brand.

February 8, 1925 — Harry Sooy makes the first experimental Victor electrical recording (a piano solo by a staff musician), with Maxfield and other Western Electric personnel present. On February 10, Victor holds its first non-experimental electrical recording session (again with Western Electric personnel present), by contralto Helen Clark. The results are not approved for release. [31]

February 25, 1925 — Singer-pianist Art Gillham records three titles for Columbia, on Western Electric equipment, that will become Columbia’s first electrically recorded releases. [32]

February 26, 1925 — Victor makes acoustic and electric recordings of a routine by the Eight Famous Victor Artists (Henry Burr, Billy Murray, et al.) for comparison purposes. Although the acoustic is initially chosen, the electric is substituted at the last moment, becoming the earliest Victor electrical recording to be released (Victor 35753). [33]

February 23–24, 1927 — The Chicago Record Company holds the initial sessions for its new Black Patti label, in Gennett’s temporary Chicago studio. Gennett charges the company $30 per master. [34]

February 6, 1930 — The Durium Products Corporation releases its first Hit of the Week record. A 15¢ single-sided disc, Hit of the Week is sold at newsstands, with a new release appearing every Thursday. Durium Products had been formed a year earlier to exploit a linseed oil-based plastic product originally developed in 1927 by Dr. Hal Trueman Beans, Dr. Louis Hammett, and Dr. George H. Walden, Jr., all of whom were chemistry professors at Columbia University. [35]

February 10, 1930 — The Cova Recording Corporation is chartered by S. M. Levy. The company revives the dormant Q. R. S. label, as a cheaply produced 25¢ line. Unlike its predecessor, this version of Q.R.S. is not a race-record label, instead offering mostly mediocre pop fare. Masters are supplied by the Stanley Recording Company. [36]

February 1932 — RCA Victor begins pressing low-cost discs for the Crown Record Company, under the supervision of Eli Oberstein, from Crown’s own masters. [37] Crown had previously pressed in a former Edison facility. [38] Seven years later, Oberstein dubs many of these masters for reissue (usually under pseudonyms) on his new Varsity label.

February 1934 — RCA Victor discontinues the Electradisk label, leaving Bluebird and Sunset as its only budget-priced brands (other than the Montgomery Ward client label). Sunset is discontinued several months label, and Bluebird takes its place as RCA’s flagship budget label.

February 26, 1935 — Decca Records and the Decca Distributing Corporation file a lawsuit charging the Brunswick Record Corporation, Columbia Phonograph Company, Consolidated Film Industries and its American Record Corporation subsidiary, RCA-Victor, RCA Manufacturing Company, and various officers of those companies, with maintaining a monopoly on the sale of phonograph records in New York state. Decca seeks $1 million in damages. [39] Nothing comes of it.

February 26, 1936 — Associated Cinema Studios is incorporated in San Francisco by capitalist Mark L. Gerstle, following his purchase of Freeman Lang Enterprises (a pioneering West Coast custom-recording operation). [40] Owner of The Emporium department store, Gerstle reportedly is more interested in sailing his yacht than making recordings, so he entrusts management of the Los Angeles studio to former Freeman Lang vice-president Frank W. Purkett. Associated Cinema caters to local broadcasters and movie studios, specializing in transcriptions and sound-on-film recording, but it also produces some mildly risqué “party” records for such labels as Hollywood Hot Shots, Hot Shots from Hollywood, Racy Records, and Torchies from Hollywood.

February 1937 — Musicraft Records announces its first releases. The company was founded several months earlier by former attorney Milton L. Rein and music teacher Henry Cohen, originally to specialize in high-quality, premium-priced recordings of esoteric classical fare that was receiving little or no exposure on the major labels. [41] The earliest releases earn high praise from the critics but sell in only minuscule quantities, and in the 1940s Musicraft morphs into a pop label.

February 1939 — Solo Art makes it first recordings. Devoted entirely to jazz piano, the company is owned by Brooklyn bartender Dan Qualey, who finances the start-up by soliciting subscribers among his bar clientele, collecting $10 in advance with the promise that they will receive ten records annually through the mail. The venture is discontinued in 1940, after Qualey runs out of funds.

February 22, 1939 — Eli Oberstein resigns his position as head of RCA Victor’s Bluebird division. Although he does not immediately announce his intentions, he is already laying the groundwork for his own record company. Incorporated later that year, his United States Record Corporation produces inexpensive Varsity and Royale records.

February 1940 — Eli Oberstein’s United States Record Corporation introduces Inco records. [42] They are intended as a marketing experiment, retailing for 35¢ at newsstands operated by the International News Company. Priced the same as USRC’s Varsity records, and offering the same material, they fail to attract any interest and are discontinued after several weeks.

February 25, 1941 — Donald Gabor’s Continental Record Company holds its first recordings session, in RCA Victor’s New York studio. A Hungarian immigrant, Gabor arrives in the United States in 1938 and is given a job as an RCA shipping clerk, from which he advances to a management position in the company’s foreign-record division before resigning in early 1941 to launch Continental.

February 1946 — Lionel and Gladys Hampton launch their Hamp-Tone label, which is described as “a show-window for promising Negro talent of all types — hot jazz, folk music and spirituals as well as dramatic and classical entertainment.” [43] Chicago Defender editor Charles Browning undertakes a cross-country tour to promote the records to jukebox operators, [44] but the venture closes in late 1946 after the Hamptons run out of masters.

February 5, 1946 — Dial Records holds its first recording session, in Glendale, California, by a pickup grouped credited as Dizzy Gillespie’s Jazzmen. The session is a poorly organized affair, with saxophonist Charlie Parker failing to appear, and the studio overrun with gawkers. Owner Ross Russell recalls, “After that, I made it my business to keep hangers-on, dope heads, and parasites out of the studio.” [45]

February 1947 — Universal Recording Studios’ Bill Putnam records Jerry Murad’s Harmonicats using a primitive form of artificial reverberation that involves recording from a speaker placed in the men’s rest room. [46]

February 28, 1948Billboard reports that Capitol Records has ordered Wesley Tuttle, Benny Goodman, and Stan Kenton to report for recording sessions in defiance of the American Federation of Musicians’ recording ban. Tuttle immediately contacts AFM Local 47 and is told to ignore the order. The situation turns into a standoff as rumors swirl that Capitol is preparing to test the legality of the ban in court. [47] No case is brought, however.

February 1949 — The Radio Corporation of America prepares to introduce 45-rpm discs, in an attempt to counter Columbia’s popular new LPs. Initially dubbed “Madame X,” the project is veiled in secrecy until March 1949, when RCA Victor chief engineer D. D. Cole publicly unveils the new records, along with the inexpensive changers that are required to play them. [48] After an unsuccessful attempt to license the format, RCA makes it available to other companies. The public is slow to embrace the 45 until the early 1950s, when it begins to gain traction as the favored format for pop “singles.” Classical enthusiasts tend to favor LPs, complaining that 45s are nearly as inconvenient as 78s for playing extended works.

References

[1] “A Concert by Telephone,” New York Morning Sun, Feb. 5, 1889; “Interesting Phonograph and Telephone Experiments at a Lecture,” Newark [NJ] News, Feb 5, 1889.

[2] Proceedings of the First Annual Convention of Local Phonograph Companies of the United States (Chicago, May

28–29, 1890). Milwaukee: Phonograph Printing Company.

[3] Lobdell, Farwell & Co., Inc. (stock offer notice). Chicago Tribune (Jun 8, 1890).

[4] “Phonographic Ears.” Chicago Tribune (Jul 10, 1892).

[5] Berliner, Emile. “Gramophone.” U.S. Patent #534,543 (filed Mar 30, 1892; granted Feb 19, 1895).

[6] Untitled notice (re: John Havens as manager of Lyric). Phonoscope (Apr 1899).

[7] Bryant, William R. (Allan Sutton, editor). The American Zonophone Discography, Vol. 1. Denver: Mainspring Press (2012).

[8] Untitled notice (re: Pressing plant). Music Trade Review (Feb 27, 1904).

[9] Bryant, William R., George Blacker, et al. American Record Co. ephemera, research notes, and discographical data. William R. Bryant papers, Mainspring Press collection.

[10] Sooy, Harry O. Memoir of My Career at Victor Talking Machine Company (manuscript). Sarnoff Library.

[11] “Petitioned into Bankruptcy.” Music Trade Review (Feb 8,1908).

[12] “Now Perpetually Enjoined.” Talking Machine World (Apr 15, 1908).

[13] Sooy, op. cit.

[14] “Talking Machine Record.” U.S. Patent #862,407 (filed Jul 9, 1906).

[15] Sooy, op. cit.

[16] Bolig, John. The Victor Discography: Green, Blue, and Purple Labels. Denver: Mainspring Press (2006).

[17] Bryant, William R. (Allan Sutton, editor). The American Zonophone Discography, Vol. 1. Denver: Mainspring Press (2012). Portions of the Z- series ledgers, which are housed in the Sony Music archives (New York), are the only surviving American Zonophone recording files.

[18] Sooy, op. cit.

[19] The claim that the ODBJ made test records for Columbia in January 1917 (first advanced by Brian Rust, who later retracted it) is untrue. The band was invited to make Columbia Personal Records at that time, but there is no evidence that they accepted.

[20] “10,000 Phonograph Records Stolen; Arrests Are Made.” Wilkes-Barre [PA] Times-Leader (Feb 17, 1920).

[21] “Retirement of Miguel Voglhut.” Talking Machine World (Jan 15, 1922).

[22] Sooy, op. cit.

[23] “Introduce the Puritan Record” Talking Machine World (Mar 15, 1922).

[24] “Recording Laboratory in Santa Monica.” Talking Machine World (Feb 15, 1922).

[25] Statement of Incorporation: Marsh Laboratories, Inc. (Feb 17, 1922). State of Illinois, Office of the Secretary

of State.

[26] “Hearing Held in the Victor Co.—Opera Disc Co. Suit.” Talking Machine World (Mar 15, 1922).

[27] Sooy, op. cit.

[28] Sutton, Allan. Recording the ’Twenties: The Evolution of the American Recording Industry, 1920–1929. Denver: Mainspring Press (2008).

[29] Bryant, William R., with the Record Research Associates (Allan Sutton, editor). Ajax Records: A History and Discography. Denver: Mainspring Press (2013).

[30] Sooy, op. cit.

[31] Sooy, op. cit.

[32] Sutton, Allan. Recording the ’Twenties, op. cit.

[33] Ibid.

[34] Gennett master ledgers, February 1927. Reports that Gennett charged $40 are in error; the ledgers show a $30 charge for all Chicago Record Company masters.

[35] “Durium Records.” Time (Feb 17, 1930).

[36] “New 25¢ Disc Brand.” Variety (Jan 29, 1930).

[37] RCA Victor production-history cards. Sony Music Archives, New York.

[38] “Crown Records (Two Hits for a Bit)” (ad). Warren [PA] Times Mirror (Jan 13, 1931).

[39] “Record Makers Ask $1,000,000 Damages.” New York Times (Feb 27, 1935).

[40] “Associated Cinema Studios.” Broadcasting (Mar 15, 1936).

[41] “Discs for Dilettanti.” Time (Nov 1, 1937).

[42] Business Week (Apr 20, 1940).

[43] “Introducing a Record Company with a Reason!” (ad). Billboard (May 11, 1946).

[44] Gore, Byrde. “Byrde’s Eye View ’Round the Wax Circle.” Cash Box (Sep 2, 1946).

[45] Kennedy, Rick, and Randy McNutt. “Dial Records,” in Little Labels—Big Sound. Bloomington: University of Indiana Press (1999).

[46] “Putnam Springs New Waxing Technique with ‘Vitacoustic.’” Billboard (Apr 5, 1947).

[47] “Cap Orders Talent to Wax Despite Ban.” Billboard (Feb 28, 1948).

[48] Cole, D. D. “The How and Why of RCA Victor’s New Record and Player.” Audio Record (Mar 1949).

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© 2019 by Allan R. Sutton. All rights are reserved.

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The James A. Drake Interviews • Nina Morgana (Part 1)

NINA MORGANA
(Part 1 of 3)
By James A. Drake

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Born of Italian parents who had emigrated from Palermo, Sicily, to Buffalo, New York in 1890, Nina Morgana (1891-1984) first sang in public performances in her native city’s Italian district in 1900. [1]  After studying in Italy with Teresa Arkel from 1909-1913, she made well-received debuts in Alessandria and in Milan.  When she returned to America, she was chosen by Enrico Caruso as one of his assisting artists in a highly-publicized series of concerts in the United States.  Morgana made her Metropolitan Opera debut in the 1920-21 season, having previously sung with the Chicago Opera Association under the management of Mary Garden.

In June 1921, scarcely two months before Caruso’s sudden death, Morgana married the tenor’s full-time secretary, Bruno Zirato (1886-1972), who later became the general manager of the New York Philharmonic and also served as Arturo Toscanini’s representative in North and South America.  Essentially self-educated and invariably self-assured, Morgana was well-acquainted with Beniamino Gigli, as she discussed in a number of interviews conducted by the author from 1973-1979. 

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Bruno Zirato with Dorothy and Enrico Caruso on their wedding day, August 20, 1918. The location is the roof of the Knickerbocker Hotel, New York.
(G.G. Bain Collection, Library of Congress)

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You and Beniamino Gigli made your Metropolitan Opera debuts during the same season, is that correct?

In the same season, yes, and less than twenty-four hours apart:  Gigli made his as Faust in Boito’s Mefistofele on November 26, 1920, and I made mine as Gilda in Rigoletto on Saturday, November 27.  But strictly speaking, my debut was not my first performance at the Met.  Several months earlier, on March 28, I sang three arias at a Sunday Night Concert, with Pasquale Amato and [violinist] Albert Spalding also on the program. 

 

Was Caruso [was] to have sung the Duke in your debut in Rigoletto?

Yes, but he was ill, so Mario Chamlee sang the Duke at my debut. [2]  Giuseppe De Luca sang Rigoletto.  Chamlee and De Luca were also my partners in Barber of Seville during that same season.  I also sang Nedda in Pagliacci with Edward Johnson as Canio and Antonio Scotti as Tonio in my debut season.  I was to have sung Pagliacci with Caruso originally.

 

In operatic circles, it is widely known that you were “discovered” by Caruso.  When and where did this “discovery” take place?

I can tell you precisely:  it was on Saturday, May 9, 1908, at 3:00 p.m., in Buffalo, New York, in one of the four suites on the top floor of the Iroquois Hotel.   I can be more specific by telling you that Caruso’s suite was the one atop the front of the hotel, which faced Eagle Street.  The hotel, which had one-thousand rooms, was still new at that time; it had opened for business in conjunction with the Pan-American Exposition, which was held in Buffalo in 1901.

 

You performed at the Pan-American Exposition, correct?

Yes, I sang there in an exhibition called Venice in America, on the midway.  I was nine years old, and was billed as “Baby Patti” or “Child Patti” in the [Buffalo] newspapers.

 

It was at the Pan-American Exposition, on June 13, 1901, that President William McKinley was assassinated.  Do you recall anything about that tragic day?

The only memory I have is hearing adults around me saying very agitatedly, “The President has been shot!  The President has been shot!”  I was too young to know what “being shot” meant—and I also didn’t know what “president” meant, much less who the president was.  When I asked my parents about it, they tried to explain to me that in the United States, the president was “the king.”  Well, I didn’t know what a “king” was, so I just accepted the fact that someone important had been hurt in some way.

 

When you auditioned for Caruso, do you recall what you sang?

Yes, I sang “Caro nome.”  Just the “Caro nome,” without the recitative.  When I finished, Caruso patted me on the cheek and told my father, who came with me, that I had a very promising voice.  He told us that I would have to study in Italy, and he said he would write a letter on my behalf to the great Teresa Arkel, asking her to accept me as a pupil.  He did so, and about a year later, my father and I sailed to Italy.  During the day, while I was at Mme. Arkel’s having my lessons, my father worked as a laborer.

 

Obviously, Caruso detected the youthful promise in your voice, just as he did several years later with the young Rosa Ponselle.  Looking back, what do you think he heard in your voice that prompted him to refer you to Teresa Arkel?

Well, whatever he heard was not what Mme. Arkel heard!  In his letter to her, Caruso had written that he believed my voice would become a mezzo-sopranone, or in English, “a great big mezzo-soprano.”  When I sang for Mme. Arkel, however, she said that my voice would be fine for roles like Lucia, Amina in Sonnambula, and Adina in Elisir d’amore, which require an exceptional top.  And I had one, too.  By the time I left Mme. Arkel, I could sing the G above high-C effortlessly.  But vocally, I was certainly not going to be singing Mamma Lucia in Cavalleria rusticana.

 

When you were studying in Italy, was Caruso as famous there as he was in the U.S.?

Actually, no.  His recordings were well-known, of course, and hence his name was well-known, but since 1903 he had been at the Metropolitan Opera, not La Scala or one of the other houses in Italy.  The tenor who was admired when I was studying in Italy—not just admired, but adored—was Giuseppe Anselmi.  He was as famous there as Caruso was in the United States.  

Anselmi, whom I heard several times, had a gorgeous voice and a perfect technique, and was also extraordinarily handsome.  Anselmi was “all the rage,” so to say, as was Maria Galvany among sopranos.  It was Galvany, not Melba, who was adored in Italy, yet in America she was almost unknown other than on recordings.

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Giuseppe Anselmi

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A great tenor who sang during Anselmi’s time, and whom some historians claim was the equal of Caruso in certain roles, was Alessandro Bonci.  Did you see Bonci, and if so, what was your assessment of him?

The distance between Caruso and Bonci as tenors was about the size of the Grand Canyon.  They had nothing at all in common, either vocally or as men.  In Italy, it was rumored that Bonci was an unethical person.  He had played some part in obtaining a forged letter from Verdi, giving Bonci supposed permission to sing the “È scherzo od è follia” in a unique way.  I heard a recording of it, and Bonci’s performance was different yet acceptable.  But he was still in disrepute because he had paid someone to forge the letter from Verdi.

Personally, I saw Bonci as Faust in Boito’s Mefistofele, in which he was wearing an over-stated costume topped by a large hat with an even larger feather protruding from it.  Frankly, he looked silly on the stage.  Vocally, his singing was pleasant enough, and it reminded me somewhat of Lauri-Volpi because both of them had exceptional high ranges.  But Lauri-Volpi was handsome onstage, whereas Bonci was a feather-bearing little man in an overdone costume with high-heeled boots.

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Alessandro Bonci, 1910

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Earlier, you mentioned having sung with Edward Johnson in Pagliacci at the MetWhen Johnson’s name is mentioned in connection with the Metropolitan Opera, it is usually in reference to his tenure as General Manager, not as one of its significant tenors.  Do you recall the first time you heard him sing?

Yes, in Italy in 1910.  I sang with him there in Elisir d’amore.  At the time, he was singing under the Italianized name “Edoardo di Giovanni.”

 

Where in Italy did you make your debut? 

My very first performance on an opera stage was as the hidden “forest bird” in Siegfried, at the Teatro Dal Verme.   Tullio Serafin, who was young and handsome—his hair was brown and thick in those days—had come to Mme. Arkel to ask if she had a pupil who could sing the part.  She told him that I could do it, and I did—I sang it hidden in a papier-maché “tree.”  Giuseppe Borgatti was the star of the performance.

I was also in the premiere of Der Rosenkavalier at La Scala on March 1, 1911, which was led by Serafin.  The cast included Lucrezia Bori in the breeches role of Octavian, Ines Maria Ferraris as Sophie, and Pavel Ludikar as Baron Ochs.  During one of the curtain calls with the full cast, I held Strauss’s hand.

 

At the Met, Lucrezia Bori and Edward Johnson were famously paired as Romeo and Juliet.  But you knew both singers in Italy a decade before you made your Met debut?

Bori and Johnson were perfect for each other in Roméo et Juliette.  And, yes, I sang a number of performances with Johnson at the Met.  But his best partner among sopranos was Lucrezia Bori, not Nina Morgana.  I’m sure you have heard recordings of Bori, but have you seen photographs of her?

 

Yes, mostly studio portraits but a few candid ones, in various books about the history of the Met.

Most of her publicity photos were taken [of her] in profile, or else at an angle, rather than facing the camera lens.  She had an ocular condition called strabismus, which lay people refer to as having a “lazy eye” or, less kindly, as “cross-eyed.”  When she was relaxed, Bori’s right eye would tend to drift toward her nose.  My brother, Dante Morgana, a premiere ophthalmologist and surgeon, gave her exercises to train the muscles of her right eye to keep the eyeball centered.

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Lucrezia Bori (G. G. Bain Collection, Library of Congress)

 

Although fate deprived you of the opportunity to sing Pagliacci with Caruso, you sang not only Nedda but other major roles with almost all of the legendary tenors who inherited Caruso’s repertoire.

My best roles were Nedda in Pagliacci, Micaela in Carmen, and Musetta in Bohème.  Although I also sang Mimì in Bohème, [General Manager Giulio] Gatti-Casazza said that I was not only better as Musetta, but that I was the best Musetta of the several sopranos who sang the role under his management.  

 

Do you recall some of the casts in your performances of those operas?

I sang my first Micaela in Carmen with Giovanni Martinelli and Miguel Fleta alternating as Don José, and with José Mardones as Escamillo.  I know of no other basso profondo who could sing Escamillo—later, Pinza sang it, but his voice was a less powerful lyric sound compared to José Mardones.  But Mardones’ range was so marvelous that he could sing Escamillo easily and convincingly.  In some of my performance in Pagliacci, Antonio Scotti sang Tonio and the “new boy,” Lawrence Tibbett, was Silvio. 

In the 1924-1925 season, in a new production of Tales of Hoffmann, I sang the part of the mechanical doll Olympia, with Miguel Fleta as Hoffmann.  In that production, Bori sang the roles of Giulietta and Antonia, and she did them with great distinction.  Later, Queena Mario sang Antonia, but with no distinction at all.

Perhaps you know that Queena Mario’s birth name was Helen Tillotson, a perfectly fine name.  She claimed that [conductor and coach Wilfrid] Pelletier, to whom she was married, had suggested the ridiculous name “Queena,” but I think she made it up herself.  I used to make her mad by asking, “If you have a brother, is his name Kinga?”

 

You sang several times with Giovanni Martinelli, who, perhaps with the sole exception of Caruso, seems to have been beloved by everyone, even by the other great tenors of that era.

I sang Eudoxie in the revival of La Juive with Martinelli as Eléazar, Leon Rothier as the Cardinal, and Rosa Ponselle as Rachel, the role she had created [at the Met] with Caruso in 1919.  In fact, other than Martinelli singing Eléazar in place of Caruso, the revival had almost the same cast as the [Met] premiere.  Ponselle sang most of the performances, but not all of them.  Florence Easton sang several Rachels, as did Elisabeth Rethberg later.

Among the other great tenors of that period, I sang with Giacomo Lauri-Volpi for the first time in Rigoletto in 1926, with De Luca and Mardones.  For that performance, with Gatti-Casazza’s consent, I made a change in Gilda’s costume:  I wore a pink gown in the first scene.  I also sang with Lauri-Volpi in Africana, with Ponselle as Selika, and I sang with him again in Pagliacci in the 1929-1930 season.  In Africana, Gigli was cast instead of Lauri-Volpi in several of the performances I was in, and Florence Easton replaced Ponselle in some of them.  Most were conducted by Serafin.

 

Do you recall the tenors with whom you sang in Bohème?

As I said earlier, Musetta was one of my best and most frequent roles, and I was especially fortunate to sing several performances with Lauri-Volpi as Rodolfo [in 1932].  A few times, Rodolfo was sung by Martinelli.  It’s not a role that one would immediately associate with him, but the color of Martinelli’s voice was light enough for it, and he restrained the volume of his clarion voice.  I also sang some performances with Armand Tokatyan, who was a very fine tenor and deserves to be remembered better today.

I was also fortunate to be in the opera house on the opening night of the 1921-22 season, when Gigli sang Alfredo to Galli-Curci’s Violetta at her debut.  I knew Galli-Curci before then.  Both of us had sung in Chicago when Mary Garden was the general manager.

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Mary Garden (G. G. Bain Collection, Library of Congress)

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If one-half of the stories that have been told and written about Mary Garden are true, she must have been a formidable person.

Indeed, she was, but probably no more so than Melba or Patti before her.  They ruled their kingdoms—and they made those kingdoms.  No woman who achieved what Patti, or Melba, or Geraldine Farrar, or Mary Garden achieved, could have done so without enormous self-confidence.  Mary Garden, at least as I knew her, was not imperious at all, but she knew very well what her value was. 

She could talk about herself in a way that may sound conceited in the retelling, but from her standpoint it was simply a matter of fact.  I remember walking to the Chicago Opera house with my sister Angie, who traveled with me, and seeing Mary Garden coming toward us.  She stopped us and said, “Did you see my Carmen last night?” Not “How are you,” or “Wonderful to see you today,” but “Did you see my Carmen last night?” 

We hadn’t seen it, so we said so.  “You must see my next one,” she replied.  “There is nothing like it, and there never will be.”  She said that without a trace of haughtiness.  It was as if she had said, “You should carry an umbrella tomorrow because it’s likely to rain.”    

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[1]  The family of Nina Morgana, which comprised seven children, is remarkable not only for her success, but also her siblings’ successes. In addition to her brother Dante Morgana (who, as she mentions in the interview, became a nationally-known eye surgeon), her brother Emilio Morgana entered the priesthood and became a close friend of the friar-author Thomas Merton.  Another brother, Charles Morgana (Giuseppe Carlo Morgana), was an automotive inventor and a close associate of Henry Ford.  His older sister, Angelina Morgana, followed their brother Dante into medical school, where she became the only female in her class in the Medical Department (as it was then known) of the University of Buffalo.   She withdrew because of the harassment she experienced from the all-male faculty.

[2]  Here Morgana’s normally precise memory has failed her: on the day of her Metropolitan Opera debut (Saturday, November 27, 1920) Caruso sang a matinee performance of La forza del destino, and hence was not “ill.”
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© 2018 by James A. Drake. All rights are reserved. Short excerpts may be quoted without permission, provided the source and a link to this posting are cited. All other use requires prior written consent of the copyright holder. Please e-mail Mainspring Press with questions, comments, or reproduction requests for the author.

Photographs from the Library of Congress’ Bain Collection are in the public domain and may be reproduced without permission.

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Coming in Part 2: Nina Morgana’s personal recollections of Caruso; Gigli’s premier at the Met; comparing the great tenors

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A Gallery of 1898 Recording Artists

These extracts are from an August 1898 Phonoscope feature, “Gallery of Talent Employed for Making Records” (entries without photographs are not shown).

All of the artists pictured were active into the early 1900s, and far beyond in many cases, but Russell Hunting and Steve Porter had the longest and most distinguished recording-industry careers.  In addition to his prolific recording activities, Hunting was the editor of The Phonoscope (the industry’s first trade journal) in the 1890s, and he was still active in the later 1920s as American Pathé’s technical director.

Stephen Carl (Steve) Porter spent several years abroad in the early 1900s, including a stint as a recording engineer with the Nicole company, for which he made ethnic recordings in India and Burma. Upon his return to the U.S. he resumed recording (often in a stereotypical “dumb Irish” role that belied his brilliance), organized and managed the Rambler Minstrels (a popular recording and for-hire act that featured Billy Murray), and successfully filed for patents on various devices, including the Port-O-Phone, an early hearing aid. His activities are covered in detail in Steve Porter: Global Entrepreneur, on the Mainspring Press website.

 

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Just Arrived — “Edison Two-Minute and Concert Cylinders” — In Stock

NOW IN STOCK — Available Exclusively from Mainspring Press

ED2M-cover-x5EDISON TWO-MINUTE AND CONCERT CYLINDERS
American Series, 1897–1912
By Allan Sutton

398 pages, illustrated • 7″ x 10″ quality softcover
$49 (U.S. –  Free Shipping)
Order directly from Mainspring Press

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Edison Two-Minute and Concert Cylinders is the first study  of these records to be compiled from the surviving company documentation (including the factory plating ledgers, studio cash books, remake and deletion notices, catalogs, supplements, and trade publications), along with first-hand inspection of the original cylinders. All American-catalog issues from 1897 through 1912, including the Grand Opera series, are covered.

Unlike previously published guides, which don’t list Edison’s numerous and often confusing remakes, this new volume lists all versions — even indicating those initially supplied by Walcutt & Leeds — along with the listing or release dates and the distinguishing details (changes in artists, accompaniments, announcements, etc.) for each. Plating dates for brown-wax pantograph masters and early Gold Moulded masters, which provide valuable clues to the long-lost recording dates, are published here for the first time.

Other features include composer and show credits, medley contents, accompaniment details, pseudonym identification, an illustrated footnoted history of Edison cylinder production during the National Phonograph Company period, user’s guide, and indexes.

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A Gallery of Pioneer Recording Artists (1898)

This gallery of early recording artists appeared in The Phonoscope for July 1898. Although touted as Columbia stars (on cylinders; Columbia discs were still several years away), they also recorded prolifically for other companies. Several, including Quinn and Gaskin,  ran display ads in the same paper, offering their services to any and all.

The “Mr. Emerson” mentioned in the first paragraph was Victor Hugo Emerson, later better known as the manufacturer of Emerson Records. Steve Porter and Russell Hunting would also come to play important roles in the early recording industry, the latter as a Pathé executive.

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