Tuesday 10th November from 5.30-7 at the Wighton Centre, Dundee Central Library. Leng Medal Memories. Booking essential!
Leng Medal Memories EventBrite Event Tuesday 10th November 5.30-7
Dr Karen McAulay explores the history of Scottish music collecting, publishing and national identity from the 18th to 20th centuries. Research Fellow at Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, author of two Routledge monographs.
Tuesday 10th November from 5.30-7 at the Wighton Centre, Dundee Central Library. Leng Medal Memories. Booking essential!
I’m writing an article (publication destination yet to be confirmed) – this was one of my planned outputs from my oral history interviews gathering Dundonian Leng Medal memories. And in due course, I want to write my book chapter, but I’ll get on with the article first! One thing at a time.
But my most pressing concern is organising a get-together for any of my interviewees who are free to meet up in person and share a few songs together – not to mention reminiscing about their participation in the Leng Medal competitions. This Leng Medal for Scots Song is literally woven into the fabric of Dundee, and where better place to hold it than the Wighton Centre in Dundee’s Central Library? Of course there will be singing!
Maybe you took part in the Leng Silver and Gold Medal competitions? Fond memories? Or know people who have a medal?
It’ll be on Tuesday 10th November from 5.30-7 pm. You do need to book admission, using this EventBrite link, as seats are limited and we can’t overcrowd the space!!
Last year, I had a research fellowship at IASH, the Institute for Advanced Study in the Humanities, at the University of Edinburgh. I was researching the educational music publications of Edinburgh publisher Thomas Nelson, and in particular, the four wee Nelson Scots Song Books.
I plan to write a book about my findings – focusing on the importance of networking between all the people involved – and one chapter is going to be dedicated to the Nelson Scots Song Books. These books were compiled by two local music advisors, one of whom was Dundee’s James Easson, and he encouraged local schools to use the song books for their participation in the Leng Medal Scots Song competitions. This competition has been so wildly successful and popular, that I decided to conduct oral history interviews with people who participated. Another chapter of my proposed book will therefore be dedicated to their Leng Medal memories. It’s not that common for a quartet of tiny song books to have had such a significant role in local music-making. This research has been sponsored by an Athenaeum Award from my employer, the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.
Acknowledgements are therefore due both to IASH at the University of Edinburgh, and to the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland’s Research and Engagement department. A big thank you also goes to the participants in my research study, and to the Local History department of Dundee Central Library.
Four years ago, I gave a conference paper with this title. Time passed before I found it a home as a published article, but I’m pleased to say that it is now published in Brio, Vol.63 no.1, pp.13-30.

Brio is the professional journal of IAML(UK & Irl), the British and Irish branch of the International Association of Music Libraries. It’s a fitting home for an article about a Scottish song collection of a rather distinctive nature.
I’ve added the article details to my RCS Pure page, and I’ll also list it here on my Publications page and on ResearchGate. If you’d like to read it but can’t access it, do drop me a line via my ‘Join the Conversation’ page on this blog.
โThe introduction to the musical world of yet another collection of Scots songs may possibly in certain quarters seem to demand something in the nature of an apologyโ, said editor James Wood in his 1908 preface. Woodโs collection is intriguing. The clumsily-worded title on the cover incorporates an embossed lozenge/roundel of Edinburghโs Dunedin cross. Although Wood compiled the collection, he collaborated with a musical editor, Learmont Drysdale, and another eleven Scottish musicians are acknowledged. His own identity is a bit of a mystery. The bookโs scarcity is also noteworthy; it was possibly a short print-run. Well-intentioned, it perhaps lacked general appeal, and paratextual clues bear out the assertion that this highbrow, specialist publication may not have sold very well.
Heading Image by Marilyn Cada from Pixabay
Whilst the rain pours and a breeze gets up outside, I decided that today was definitely a day for indoor pursuits, and – with my mind on a forthcoming lecture – I thought it was time to look at a volume which is quite the most unexpected of all the Scottish song books in my collection. My interest was in the motivation for its compilation. I love working out what the compiler had in mind, and who his intended audience might be.
The whole book was ‘printed for the proprietors’ by McCorquodale & Co., Ltd and Aird & Coghill, (letterpress and music respectively) both in Glasgow. It’s a scruffy old tome – I really haven’t looked at it closely before, largely because it looks so unappealing from the outside. It was clearly compiled for advertising purposes, and I didn’t expect to find much of note inside. Don’t get too excited about the ‘Gaelic’, though. It’s the name of a brand of whisky…
Diagonally across the cover, is printed a strip of the compiler’s family tartan. (I’ve written before about the obsession with tartan on this kind of book. It would have appealed to the target audience.) This 4th edition was published in Stirling in January 1895. However, a notice in the Indian Daily News (30 Oct 1895) says that the book is in its fourth year of publication, so I imagine it first came out ca. 1891.
The National Library of Scotland has the only library copy – of the subsequent, 5th edition, which dates from 1911. By this time it was entitled The Gaelic Old Smuggler hotch-potch, which actually tells you all you need to know. It is connected with a whisky company, The Stirling Bonding Company, Ltd. (My heroines, poet Mary Ann and her composer daughter Rose Smith would not have been impressed, being firmly committed the temperance movement!) Anyway, my 1895 copy informs the reader that,
The “Gaelic” Whisky and “Old Smuggler” bottle are both registered, and we warn those infringing the above trademarks in any way, that they will at once be proceeded against.
Mr Mackenzie declares in the ‘Introductory’ preface that ‘many friends’ had requested this fourth edition. He describes it quite accurately, as,
… a short collection of familiar Scotch Songs, Highland Music, and Stories of an anecdotal character associated with the district of Stirling, interspersed with a few facts about Scotch Whisky, and Recipes for Haggis, Scones, Porridge, and Oat-Cakes, in truth, a veritable Hotch-Potch. Many of the anecdotes are old […] To some they may not be “cauld kail”. To the many I trust they may have more than a mere passing interest, and may serve to carry their fancies back to “Bonnie Scotland”, the land of their birth.
Aha! This book is for the ex-pat in the Scottish diaspora. It wasn’t just advertised in India – I found it advertised in New Zealand, too. Even into the 1940s-50s, this “Gaelic Whisky” and “Old Smuggler” went to Australia and America, and plenty of ephemera can be found on eBay accordingly. There’s far less ephemera to be found on home ground, and the book itself appears to be quite rare.




My copy, which was priced at four shillings, is dedicated to the Directors of the Stirling Bonding Company, Limited, as a mark of the compiler’s ‘appreciation of [their] endeavours to maintain the character of true Scotch Whisky abroad, and upright dealings at home.’
Despite his ‘Introductory’ being signed ‘Stirling, 1895’, Mr J. Murray Mackenzie is not easy to track down, but I don’t think he published any other books of Scottish songs and tunes. Did he work for Stirling Bonding Company, or maybe have something to do with their advertising? He was not amongst the senior managers who signed an agreement to become part of a larger company in 1896. I’m intrigued! Despite AI having suggested he was an Edinburgh architect, I’m more inclined to think he’s the man who, having previously been an invalid attendant for some years, got a public house licence for wine and beer in Edinburgh in 1910, and was described as a restaurateur from 1912 onwards. This bloke lived from 1859-1928, so he’d have been 32 in 1891. I haven’t yet linked him to any music making, but this does at least link him to alcohol supply! It’s feasible. *
But please don’t take my word for it – it’s such a common name! There was also a Glasgow John Mackenzie who won prizes for piping and Highland dancing at Highland games and gatherings, certainly from 1889 onwards. It would be nice if it were the same man, but first we’d have to explain why he was in Glasgow. (And I found a married John Mackenzie, recent Piper to the Caledonian Asylum in London, in spring 1880, but the Edinburgh man that I found first was ‘John M. Mackenzie’, and a bachelor when he married in 1894, so that tends to rule out the earlier London-based Scot.)
So, what have we got here?
Made in the lonely highlands of Scotland from pure hill water, far removed from the smoke of large cities, distilled from Scotch barley and bere […] This small species of barley, as grown on the upland soils, is sweeter and makes finer whisky than the heavy barley grown in the lowlands. Foreign barley we never touch – thus assuring the quality of our whisky. […]
And then, at last, we reach the Highland Music. There’s a brief introduction advising the reader that the music is arranged ‘in sets for a full Highland Reel’ – a strathspey to be slowly played four times, followed by a reel, quickly ditto, and another strathspey, slowly ditto.
‘And lastly, the Reel of Tulloch or Hullachan is played as often as the spirit of the dancers can keep it up. I have seen it played for thirty minutes, till couple by couple dropped out.’
Now, gentle reader, here’s the surprise. There are twelve sets of dances provided, and the Reel of Tulloch is repeated at the end of every single set. Wow! So, that’s pp.2-27 taken care of. There’s more.
So, is there anything noteworthy about the contents? The first thing that hit me was that there are just the titles of the dance tunes or songs, and no attributions, So, if you wanted something by Robert Burns or James Hogg … you’d have to know that already, because the book won’t tell you. Burns is well represented amongst the songs.
There is no index or contents page.
The accompaniments for the dances are fairly basic, but grace notes are indicated. Meanwhile, the song accompaniments are competent, and generally don’t mirror the vocal line. Some of the dances have dynamics indicated, whilst the songs have both dynamics and Italian tempo markings.

Mackenzie must have had a sense of humour, as the first dance in the book is a strathspey entitled ‘Highland Whisky’. The first lament? ‘The Gaelic bottle’s done’, marked ‘Slow’. And the final song in the book? ‘O, Willie brew’d a peck o’ maut’, sung appropriately enough in an ‘Allegro gioviale’ tempo.
Whilst most of the tunes, including ‘Highland Whisky’, are pre-existent tunes, I rather suspect that ‘The Gaelic bottle’s done’ and ‘Mackenzie’s Lament’ might be newly-written. ‘Mackenzie’s Lament’ is certainly neither of the versions I found online. (There could be a few other tunes hiding, but I’m disinclined to check out every single tune!) And I believe the pibroch ‘Cabar Feidh’ has a connection with the Highland Mackenzie clan

Unusually, there is no ‘Auld Lang’, and no, ‘Oh, why left I my Hame’. For a book destined to be sent overseas, it’s surprisingly unsentimental!
I think I may have found a newspaper report of a lady in New Zealand actually using this book. I’ll share the news-clip, which made me both smile, and wince slightly for the long-suffering congregation! It’s in the Papers Past database from New Zealand’s National Library (Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume LXX, Issue 4260, 10 December 1912, Page 2). The ‘Lament for the Dead on the Battlefield’ and ‘Mackintosh’s Lament’ are on consecutive pages in the collection I’ve been describing:-



My copy of this book is old and battered. However, I like to think that it has enjoyed an active, possibly rather merry life …
* The AI link to an Eastern European website does name the compilation under the later edition’s title, but their Murray Mackenzie would still have been a schoolboy when he compiled the 1891 first edition!
There’s more about the Stirling Bonding Company on the Bay Bottles website, explicitly emphasising the exporting activity.
And … going off at a complete tangent, I saw a headline in The Herald newspaper today (29 October 2026), saying that tax on whisky is now 74 pence in the pound. I’m certainly no economist, nor a whisky connoisseur, but I was curious to know how this compared with 1895. Oh my goodness! Tax was then 25% or 30%. Mr Mackenzie and the directors of the Stirling Bonding Company would have been most alarmed.
74p in every pound goes to tax as Scot whisky industry sounds alarm
https://www.heraldscotland.com/news/26678541.scotch-whisky-tax-rise-industry-warns-jobs-sales-slump/

News item from St Andrews Citizen (9 August 1980)
I’ve recently highlighted a new published article focusing on the business history of Kerr’s music shop and publishing business. Kerr died near the end of the nineteenth century, and his wife Mary died in the early twentieth. These early trading years are the focus of the article’s authors:-
Renzo Cordina, Rosa Michaelson & David Power (08 Jun 2026): โPianos, profit and provinciality: a microhistory of a Victorian entrepreneurial firmโ, Management & Organizational History.
As I’ve mentioned, there is a mass of very useful and informative detail about business history, and piano sales in Scotland in this era.
However, I’m perturbed by the final paragraph of section 4, the Case Study, which precedes the next section 5, Discussion. Is there’s a protocol for raising such concerns? I really don’t know, but I don’t think it can be inappropriate politely to express them here. It is regrettable if misinformation creeps into the story of this significant Glasgow firm.
The paragraph begins,
The legacy of the James S Kerr business was both the music shop which continued to operate until the 1970s, and perhaps, more lastingly, music publishing which continued into the 21st century.
The new premises will house Mozart Allan, Bayley & Ferguson Ltd, Glasgow Music Centre, James S Kerr and Thistle Records, all under the direction of Gavin D Farquhar. The new set-up […] will operate from 65 Berkley [sic] Street.
The subsequent information a couple of sentences on, is technically correct – 79 Berkeley Street is still the registered address, as we can see from the Gov.uk company information. And the shop certainly was at no.79 in the 1930s. This is all accurate.
The current company also has its address at 79 Berkeley Street, the same address as the music shop of the mid-1930s and it is still possible to buy copies …
However, this is also just a little misleading, as I can demonstrate, because there were actually two Berkeley Street addresses:-


What’s my evidence for my assertions? Quite apart from a lot of research, I’m very proud to know the last owner of the music shop; have spoken at length with a member of Wilson’s family, and I’ve also corresponded with the last surviving board member of Kerr’s Corporation:-
‘In terms of publishing it is a zombie company in that no additions to the catalogue have been made for many years.’
I’ve written quite a lot about the later history of the firm, in three publications: my monograph; my History Scotland article, and the RMA Research Chronicle article about the Scottish women musicians.
To get to the National Library of Scotland, it’s a fairly energetic walk uphill from Waverley and across the Royal Mile to George IV Bridge. My FitBit and I agreed that I’d put in a reasonable amount of effort and a reasonable number of steps, so I had the obligatory coffee and cake as reward before heading up to Special Collections.
I wanted to look at a piece of music by Rose Smith. I do own a copy – but needed to see if the NLS one emanated from an earlier or later era than the address on mine. It was, alas, identical, so I can be fairly sure that it was sold – and probably published – between 1891 and 1901. Any earlier, and Rose was barely an adult. Any later, and Mozart Allan’s street number would have been different.
There’s another Smith score in my own collection, whereย NLS didn’t have the precise ‘you might also like’ title that was advertised on the back. The British Library catalogue entry dates the advertised title at 1927.ย I don’t feel inclined to request a digitised copy.ย It wouldn’t necessarily confirm Smith’s piece to have been published around then.ย Smith’s cover art makes me doubt this. Although the first newspaper mention of a music title can be significant, Mozart Allan filled the inside and back covers of his music with adverts for other things from his back catalogue that the musician might be interested in. These weren’t always contemporary. So unless I can find a definite date earlier than 1925, I’m floundering in the dark.
Anyway, I had two more Mozart Allan scores lined up to view. These were by the same composer as that British Library piece. Both copies turned out to have been printed after 1925, but one of them could initially have been published any time after 1901 – I did find an early newspaper mention.
I’m not sure what I hoped to establish, really. Knowing that a piece of music by someone else, was published between 1901 and 1925, tells me nothing about the Smith piece that I actually want to pin down.

Somewhat crestfallen, because I hadn’t made much, if any progress, I was happy to have another coffee (and a blueberry muffin, in the interest of scientific comparison with the recipe I use!), then head to a talk about ‘The Women of the Saltire Society’, which was taking place at NLS this afternoon. There were two excellent speakers, Sarah Leith and Magnus Linklater, giving lively and informative presentations. I definitely need to read more about this organisation!
And then … down the News Steps I went. An unimpressive cuppa (frothy milk in tea?) at Waverley, then back to Glasgow.
As I said, it was a day of highs and lows! A welcome, relaxed day does no-one any harm.
Whilst I’m whimsical enough to rather like the idea of a birthday cake for a book, I don’t think I’ll go quite that far. Still …
I’m celebrating the second birthday of my second book – A Social History of Amateur Music Making and Scottish National Identity. It was reviewed by Soundyngs in January 2025 – https://soundyngs.wp.st-andrews.ac.uk/…/review-a…/ (Happily, the paperback and Kindle versions are affordable!)
Since then? Well, I have a couple of research strands on the go at present:-
1. Leng Medal Memories in Dundee, my research sponsored by an Athenaeum Award from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. This is really coming together now – I’m working on an article and planning an event.
2. Then there’s the research into a forgotten woman Glasgow composer. I wrote an article in which she was one of the main characters, published a few months ago:- https://www.cambridge.org/…/85AB3A5B58392CEE7FCE07E7009… I have an idea for an event there, too. But I’d better get the first event tied up before I plan the second!
If you were interested in James and Mary Kerr, proprietors of James S. Kerr’s piano and music publishing concern, then you’re spoilt for choice today.
Not only do they feature in my book (now two years old), A Social History of Amateur Music-Making and Scottish National Identity: Scotland’s Printed Music, 1880-1951 … (where you’ll also find out more about dance instructor and dance hall lessee Mr Orr Robertson, not to mention the later history of Kerr’s firm, including the years when it was no longer owned by the Kerr’s!) …
But Mary also gets her own significant mention in my RMA Research Chronicle open access article, ‘Women Pursuing Musical Careers: Finding Opportunities in Late Nineteenth- and Early Twentieth-Century Scottish Music Publishing Circles’ … along with Kate Logan, whose connection with the Logan publishing firm diverged after her brother-in-law and husband’s publishing firm went bankrupt; not to mention Euphemia Allan (of Mozart Allan fame) and Rose Smith.
The later history of Kerr’s firm, after it became Kerr’s Corporation, is mentioned in my book, but also in my 2025 History Scotland article:-
‘The โScottish Sopranoโ and the โVoiceย ofย Scotlandโ: the Importance of Nationality to Flora Woodman and Robert Wilson’, History Scotland Vol.25 no.1 (Spring 2025), 74-81 (accessible online via public library e-magazine apps, or you may be able to order a paper copy online.)
But I have just discovered that there’s now a new article about Kerr’s business, from an organisational, management perspective, in a Routledge journal which hasn’t crossed my radar up until now. This time, it emanates from the School of Business, University of Dundee, United Kingdom:-
Renzo Cordina, Rosa Michaelson & David Power (08 Jun 2026): ‘Pianos, profit and provinciality: a microhistory of a Victorian entrepreneurial firm‘, Management & Organizational History.
It’s a different kind of article to my own writings, naturally, because the authors’ focus is on Victorian business and piano sales, whilst mine is more about music publishing and individual editors. There’s a wealth of background information about the trade side of piano-selling, which I heartily recommend – that’s not my focus at all.
The basic factual outline of Kerr’s dates and addresses probably do draw on the same sources.
But if you want to know more about the later life of the ‘Kerr’s’ brand, then I have to say my work will offer you more detail; similarly with the Logan firm. Kerr’s are not still publishing; the last surviving very elderly board member advised me that it is now essentially a ‘zombie firm’. Merry Melodies can certainly still be purchased as reprints, but not from Kerr’s, whose business documents are now ‘in a box in a cupboard’. The premises are no longer a music shop – and the last person who did own the retail business was unconnected with Kerr’s. Again, I know them.
And, let’s be accurate, Baptie’s Musical Scotland (1894) is correctly cited in the references, but incorrectly cited in the text as ‘Scottish Musicians’ (1894), but the page numbers cited are those in Musical Scotland. I’m not aware of a second book with the same date but a different title.
It’s great that Kerr is finally, decisively on the map. (Well … a gap on the map … see my 2023 blog post showing where the first shop was!)
Image by stalkerreklats from Pixabay
This week, I turned the internet inside out trying to find a copy of a piano piece by Rose Smith, which seems only to be available in one or two libraries. Clearly, I need to update Zotero, because when I eventually found this very run-of-the-mill piece of salon music ….
It was in my own collection. Oops!
I only needed it to see which address it had been published from. Setting it alongside another similar piece by Smith, with a later Mozart Allan address, it serves as a reminder that you can’t assume something was first published from the address on a particular copy. Other music listed on a later-printed copy may give you aย clue that it is from an earlier era. Indeed, the apparently ‘later’ piece has an illustration which simply didn’t look the right era for the publication address.
Now, as for the other music listed, which really does appear no longer to survive … anywhere at all … !
More interestingly, the stylistic difference between these piano pieces and Smith’s later self-published songs is quite significant. But more about that another day.
Not long ago, I was bought a copy of The Feminist Art of Walking, by Morag Rose (Pluto Press, 2025). It falls into the category of Gender/Urban Studies, which certainly isn’t in my usual ballpark, but I’m often pleasantly surprised to read something completely different, so I dived in. Did you know that Rose established the Loiterers Resistance Movement (LRM)? You do now.
After my two ‘fieldwork’ outings to Rutherglen and Lanark this week, both entailing a fair bit of walking, it occurred to me that my own walks were a kind of feminist walking, insofar as I was commemorating Rose Smith, a forgotten woman composer who was born in Lanark, grew up and spent her early adulthood in Glasgow, then spent most of her adult life in Rutherglen – and also her mother, the ‘Lanarkshire Poetess’. (Not a bad title for an Englishwoman who had lived in Ireland before the family moved to Lanark!)

As I walked from the cemetery down to the cenotaph in Rutherglen on Monday, I pondered that Rose would have walked over the same ground – although it would have looked very different. Likewise, her steam train would have traversed essentially the same line between Glasgow and Lanark that I travelled yesterday, and I walked on streets that she, her mother and siblings must have used daily. I even walked past the spot where their house stood. Too late, I realised I could have gone and looked at the Episcopal church that they attended. I glimpsed it, just up the road from the Library, I think, but I was too slow on the uptake and didn’t realise that was it. I was more focused on getting to the cemetery without getting drenched en route! Rose had stood at both those gravesides. Mary-Ann was remembered on the Trumpet Major’s headstone, even though she’d actually died whilst staying with a daughter in England.
Today, however, I’ve stayed at home. It’s not a ‘working’ day, but I didn’t feel inclined to make another expedition. (I need to visit the National Library of Scotland, but I can’t in all honesty justify a trip to Edinburgh when I’m going there next week in any case.)
So, I baked, washed floors and dealt with laundry. (This is the reality of semi-retirement!) I wondered if Mary-Ann or Rose made their own bread, or if they’d have laughed as they informed me that there was a perfectly good baker on the high street? They certainly wouldn’t have had a bread-machine to make the dough for rolls, or a packet-mix for an experimental batch of muffins! (Spoiler alert: they came out fine, but the ones I make from scratch are a nicer texture. And my recipes make more of them!) They’d still have had a ‘pulley’ to dry the laundry – but doing the laundry itself would’ve been much more labour-intensive. The ironing? Yes, that’s easier today, too. I’ve already addressed the question of whether they had paid help – answer, the censuses reveal that they certainly didn’t have anyone living in, apart from when Rose’s children were wee.
So, much has changed – but in my situation, at least, the domestic labour is still entirely, 100% mine. The ironing basket will sit there scowling at me until I deal with it. Nothing will be tidied up or put away unless I do it. And (despite frequently being told to be grateful for the white goods in our kitchen, which ‘do everything’), the business of keeping things going, still seems to be defined as ‘women’s work’. (Don’t condemn me. It’s easier this way. IYKYK.)
However, the relative absence of hard graft today makes me all the more respectful of Mary-Ann and Rose, still writing poetry and music as well as doing all the housework! I suppose their daughters helped them. I bet they didn’t have to be politely asked or cajoled – it was probably accepted that this was what was expected of them.
When I go into town next week, Rose’s ghost may well be hanging around the old Glasgow Athenaeum, too. There’s no denying the School of Music opened doors for her. Come to think of it – the name has changed, the remit is far wider and the reach is now global – but the opening of doors is something else that RCS has continued to faciliate. ‘Plus รงa change, plus c’est la mรชme chose’, as they say.