P. S. Gilmore and 67 tubas (!) in 1869

My family visited Boston for the first time this summer, and that encouraged me to poke around to see what I could learn about the National Peace Jubilee, held in Boston on June 15-19, 1869. This massive event was conceived and led by the great bandmaster P. S. Gilmore, who, two years later, wrote a massive history of it (758 pages!). Here's the cover page (the entire book is available online courtesy of the HathiTrust):

Gilmore wasn't initially planning to write this history, but the Executive Committee had hoped that someone would, and so he eventually took it up - reluctantly. Here are his words as the book opens:

I am familiar with every step of [the Jubilee's] progress, from its inception to its consummation; but can I write it out so as to make it interesting to the general reader? that is the question. Well, I can try! The result of the trial - and a very severe trial it has been! - is this volume, which the author gives to the public with great reluctance, feeling it is not in many respects what is expected, nor what it ought to be. Still he hopes its shortcomings may be overlooked, it being his first, and in all probability his last, effort in the field of literature.

He then concluded the introduction by saying, "critics and reviewers are respectfully requested not to put too fine a point upon their pencils, remembering that 'Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy' [a quote from the Bible - Matthew 5:7]."

I like this guy already - and I'm eager to dive into the book (but, okay, maybe not all 758 pages!).

As you perhaps picked up from the title page, this musical event was "to commemorate the restoration of peace throughout the land," referring to the end of the Civil War four years earlier. But what was of greatest interest to me, for starters, was the magnitude of the musical forces Gilmore assembled.

At the end of the book are long lists of all of the musicians involved, which included 10,404 singers, making up the enormous Chorus, and 1,011 instrumentalists, between the Grand Orchestra and the Military Band. The steel engraving at the top of this post, which is included in the book, shows those combined forces in concert.

Here is the breakdown of the instrumentalists:

So, make note: 4 tubas in the Orchestra, and 63 in the Military Band, which totals 67! Here are the names of the 63 bass players in the Band:

The 4 in the Orchestra were: B. M. Wedger, J. Pfiffercon, W. Hayden, and C. Karchich. Sadly, I don't (yet!) recognize any of those 67 names, but I would imagine they were some of the best tuba players of that day. Gilmore was all about excellence!

Fun side note: I stumbled upon a couple of cartoons, featured in Harper's Weekly (archives are online), showing playful depictions of the combined musical forces, including some tuba players. Here's the one in the June 19, 1869 edition:

And here's the close-up of some of the tubas in this wacky illustration:

And here's the cartoon in the July 3, 1869 edition which shows the exhausted musicians leaving the Jubilee.

In the bottom right corner, you can even see one tuba player being carried out on a stretcher! Here's the close-up of that:

Anyway, here's where they performed - in the special Coliseum built for the event at St. James Park (where Copley Square is today), which was designed to seat around 50,000 (again, these steel engravings are included in Gilmore's book):

Pieces that were performed over the five day festival included selections from Haydn's "Creation," Handel's "Messiah," Mendelssohn's "Elijah," as well as "St. Paul," Beethoven's 5th Symphony, overtures by Wagner and Rossini, and more. But the musical highlight was likely the following, which was performed both on the first day and the third day, as scheduled, but also included on the second day, by popular demand:

In this rousing performance, every musician was involved - including all 67 tuba players - but, as you can see in the description, there were also one hundred anvils struck by one hundred members of the Boston Fire Department, along with the chiming of all the bells of the city, and cannons blasting at the appropriate times.

If ever there were a moment where "you had to be there," this was it! Can you imagine what that sounded like? Here's the report from the next morning's edition of the Chicago Evening Post:

The New York Times was less enthusiastic about the opening day concert, noting the challenges of working with such a huge group of musicians, and they referred to the "Anvil Chorus" as "clap-trap," but then confessed that "It's performance was remarkably good":

I look forward to digging into this book more, but for now, I just want to marvel at the vision and determination of P. S. Gilmore in pulling off one of the greatest musical festivals our country has ever experienced. And yet, almost no one knows about it. I hope this post will help change that.

Here's what Gilmore included on the last page of the book, which reveals both his devotion to God and his patriotism for his adopted country (he was an Irish immigrant):

Click here for the 1969 article published in American Heritage magazine in celebration of the 100th anniversary of the National Peace Jubilee. It's a fun read!

P. S. Gilmore and that Monster Tuba

 

Since I started digging into the history of the tuba 10 years ago, I have been reminded numerous times that the work of the historian is never done. That is, I'm always making discoveries that add more to the story, which is exactly what happened this week.

In 2019, I published my research on the Harvard Tuba (click here to see the video version of my article), which was built in 1889, and I was pleased with how much of its story I was able to tell. But then I visited that historic horn at Harvard a few weeks ago, and that prompted me to poke around a bit more to see what else I could learn about its maker, F. Besson & Co. - and I struck gold!

One particularly fascinating part of the story that I was never able to get clarity on was the relationship between this beast of a bass and the renowned bandmaster, P. S. Gilmore. Here's a summary of what I knew at the time my article was published:

• The giant tuba was built by Besson for the Exposition Universelle of 1889 in Paris.
• Carl Fischer of New York, who was the sole agent in America for Besson instruments, visited the horn in Paris, and decided to purchase it and have it shipped home once the Exposition closed in November.
• That very month, Fischer wrote about the monster bass in his journal The Metronome, calling it "A novel instrument commended to P. S. Gilmore's attention."
• Then, in 1891 or 1892, a lithograph was made that shows the instrument in the back row of "Gilmore's One Hundred: The Greatest Band in the World" (shown at the top of this post).
• But I found no record of the beast appearing at a concert of Gilmore's Band. There are a few surviving photos and lithographs of the band on tour in 1892, but the giant tuba is not shown in any of them. Nor was it mentioned in connection with Gilmore anywhere in the press that I could find. And there was no record of it making an appearance at the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893, which was mentioned as a possibility in The Metronome in early 1890.
• But, again, it was featured prominently in that lithograph from 1891 or 1892, as you can see:

So, the nature of Gilmore's relationship with the instrument was never clear to me. But it 's a bit clearer now, thanks to having stumbled upon the "Besson Fund" archives at the website of the Philharmonie de Paris, Musee de la Musique.

In a section labeled, "Correspondence with the commercial agents of the company - 1869-1951," there are scans of a loosely bound booklet containing hand-written copies of letters Besson sent to various agents, including Carl Fischer.

Here's the cover of the booklet, noting that it had been prepared by Besson's Solicitors from the firm of "Michael Abrahams Sons & Co.":

And here's the letter, dated "30th January 1892," where I struck gold, as it relates to Gilmore and the monster tuba (the full letter, which is Besson's response to Fischer, is quite lengthy, so I've pieced together only the relevant parts here):

I'll type it out for you, so that it's easier to read (and I'll keep the spellings and punctuation as it is shown):

Monster Tuba Paris Exhibitions: You surprise us when you say "Gilmer" would buy that instrument Don't you remember we told you it was not made to play only for a trophy or show sign It can be blown but not used in an Orchestra The tubings are too narrow it is not properly a double BBb Monster but a medium between Eb & Bb double Monster If you want one for Chicago we had better make another then with all tubings in right proportion and properly tuned but do you think one would be able to get a player that would be able to give out a sufficient amount of wind to play the instrument. If Gilmer wants to buy the above sell it to him by all means and have another for Chicago which taken in proper time we could do it with care and turn out a proper article in fact without hearing further from you we shall put one in hand soon shall we make it in the new pitch We are only afraid Gilmour would afterwards find the above most satisfactory and this would perhaps make a difference between you and him.

Here are the most significant things revealed in the paragraph:

• Gilmore was apparently interested in buying the giant tuba from Fischer at that time, although we still don't know exactly why - except that, based on what Besson goes on to say, it was probably to be played in his band at some point (perhaps in Chicago?). This suggests that the lithograph was made in late 1891 or early 1892, since this letter is dated January 30, 1892.
• But Besson reminded Fischer that the monster was not designed to be played in an ensemble - it was only built for show, even though it is fully functional (which I know, since I've played it myself!). That probably explains why there is no record of it being played in Gilmore's Band. It obviously made an appearance for the photo shoot that led to the lithograph, but I can only imagine that when it was played within earshot of Gilmore, it got a big thumbs down and the sale was off!
• Besson suggests that they could build a replica for the World's Fair in Chicago that could be played in an ensemble, if that's what Fischer desired, but that doesn't seem to have happened - even though he said that they could (or should?) start working on it right away. Fischer apparently called that off.
• The last sentence is the most curious, and I'm not sure just how to read it. In what sense would a replica monster tuba "perhaps make a difference between you and him," meaning Fischer and Gilmore? Was their relationship strained for some reason? Or did Besson just mean that a replica giant tuba that plays in tune would satisfy Gilmore's high standards of musical excellence? I'm guessing it's the latter.

So there you have a bit more of the story of P. S. Gilmore and the monster tuba! I'll have to be on the lookout now for the letter from Fischer to Besson that prompted this response. As I said, the work of the historian is never done!

[Click here for my initial post on this topic, where I was trying to make sense of Gilmore's relationship to this historic horn.]

The Harvard Tuba - Hear the Story!

 

A Special Visit to the Harvard Tuba

When my family decided to vacation up at Acadia National Park this past week, we tacked on a brief visit to Boston, since we had never been to that great city before, and it was basically on the way to Maine. For me, that meant dropping in on the Harvard Tuba in its native environment!

Through the gracious hospitality of Michael Ruderman (shown with me above), we were not only given access to see this monstrous beast, which had been the subject of my research and writing a few years ago (click here for all of that), but Michael also gave us an insider's tour of the heart of Harvard University, which was fascinating (for example, I now know the truth about the iconic John Harvard statue!).

But for me, the highlight of the tour was the band room. I knew that's where the Harvard Tuba had lived for years, precariously propped up in a corner, but it was great to actually see that hallowed, albeit disheveled, ground.

Here's the building that is the home for the Harvard University Band, as well as other organizations:

And here's the front door, with Michael letting us in:

Once inside, we connected with current band director Mark Olson, who was also very gracious in facilitating our visit. Here he is unlocking the door to the actual Harvard Band Room, which is slightly below ground level, where you can see their oversized bass drum, known as "Bertha":

Once inside, I was surprised at how small the room really is. I had seen photos of it before, but I imagined it was much larger. It's really not much bigger than a typical living room in a decent-sized home, although with a very low ceiling and a decor that can only be described as classic frat house!

But in the right hand corner, on the side of the room that faces the street (the room is not a full basement, but has a few small windows peeking out at sidewalk level), stands the legendary Harvard Tuba - now safely stored in a display case that is bright Harvard red:

The fascinating history of this humongous horn is not noted anywhere that I could see (we might need to remedy that!), but it's sheer size makes it clear that it is something special.

Here it is after Mark opened the door to the display case, so that I could reacquaint myself with this glorious beast:

And here's a 30-second video of the room, so that you can get a sense of my description above:

One last thing - on the way out of the room, I spotted a Sousaphone bell, being repurposed as a chute to deposit recyclable bottles and cans!

Who knows what else I might have found, if I had time to explore that space further!