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.
https://www.gohenry.com/uk/blog/news/the-history-of-women-and-money
I’m languishing with Covid right now. (The only places I’ve been to catch it are buses and libraries!)
I don’t feel up to writing a blog post today. So instead, let me share an interesting post that I found on GoHenry, about women, property, and money. All useful information when I’m contemplating historical women music publishers!
I just received an email containing the sweetest words!
“We will proceed with the final production and notify you when the book is delivered from our end.”
Does this mean – the End is Nigh?! (As far as my second monograph goes, at any rate!)
Not long now!
I knew there was this vast mass of cheap, popular music books, many containing what used to be called ‘national songs’, dating back to the late 19th century and the first half of the 20th. I decided a book needed to be written, and wrote it. I can’t wait for it to make its entry into the world!
You probably have to be Glaswegian to know this old chestnut:-
‘Heh, does this tram go to the Palais?’
‘Naw – it cannae dance!’
Well, the tram has my sympathy, as I can’t either. ‘Himself’ and I each have two left feet, when it comes to tripping the light fantastic. Indeed, his mother used to wonder how someone so musical could be such a hopeless dancer. On the other hand, I realised I disliked the activity as a small child at a party for preschoolers, when a well-intentioned parent tried to make me dance the Twist. I remember the discomfort and embarrassment to this day.
We must have been terrible disappointments. After all, dancing was in the Fyfe’s blood:
Meanwhile, my own Mum was a PE teacher like Miss Milligan, taught country dancing at a school in Whitstable, and even got my father to play for her on occasions.
I myself had a Saturday job as a ballet class piano accompanist. It felt a comfortable place to be.
So, it feels as though fate has caught up with me, when recent research into a dance accompanist led me to explore early digitised committee minutes on the RSCDS website (thanks, folks – this was really useful!). In Glasgow’s Mitchell Library yesterday, I learned some more, from a book I only discovered at the weekend. I thought the secondhand copy that I found online looked too expensive, but I am reassessing this opinion!
And here I am on a bus to Edinburgh in the pouring rain. I am hoping to see two rare books of reels and strathspeys connected with this one particular pianist who, it appears, was nothing if not a force of nature. A renowned accompanist, I read that when she and her band had to share the dances with other non country dance bands, they really didn’t know quite how to deal with her – they hadn’t encountered anyone like her!
It’s such a damp and dismal day, that I really hope the National Library of Scotland books are just stuffed with interesting paratext, to make the outing worth the effort!
Image by Michael Drummond from Pixabay
Okay, you would think that I would take a good long holiday at the point when I retired from librarianship, and before I started my new research contract.
I didn’t.
I had a monograph to proof-read and index, and at one point it looked as though I might have to dash down south for family reasons.
Having completed the book demands, I headed south for a brief visit. Not a dash after all, but still needed. So, here I am.
No research will be done this week, and no preparation for two planned articles or anything else!
I still owe myself a proper vacation – in my head, there’s an imaginary “IOU”. But where or when? I’ve no idea!
I was bemoaning my many failings yesterday, when I was told (firmly) that I should be more positive and regard myself as a success-story. Unfortunately, I grew up being made so aware of my deficiencies that I’m kind of pre-programmed to look on the dark side. I’ve never quite matched up to expectations!
Mind you, the criticisms have changed over the years:-
Which just goes to show that some people are never happy, and maybe I should disregard the comments altogether. For what it’s worth, my books are fascinating! And I rather like my ostentatious “Dr”. Liking my ‘letters’ is probably a failing too.
However, when I consider how much harder it must have been to be a successful woman a hundred years ago, I’m mightily impressed by the women I’ve encountered during my researches into Scottish music publishing. I’m contemplating writing an article about them, but they are often ridiculously modest and very hard to track down, which presents a would-be writer with quite a few problems!
So, who have I got? No, I’m not going to name them just yet. Suffice to say, I have two ladies whose death certificates mention music publishing. And a piano teacher who wrote and self-published a handful of really rather good songs, along with raising three children. And the entertainer’s mother who arranged some Scottish hits. (So far, I’ve only traced documentation of her up to her marriage and the birth of her first child – so frustrating!)
Best of all – and I’ve only recently started researching this in more depth, so she gets the most passing of mentions in my forthcoming book – an incredible lady whose father-in-law started up the business, but who very definitely eventually ran the business herself, with her husband helping her (not the other way round). At the same time, she was a much sought-after conductor with her own orchestra. Wow! Impressive. She didn’t have children. In those days, I can’t imagine how she’d have done what she did, if there was a whole brood of Edwardian children with all their white frilly laundry to do, and no convenience foods! One maidservant? Or two?
I’ve encountered another woman, a singer, whose life looks equally fascinating in different ways. Not a publisher, this time, though. She needs a different article written about her.
Only this weekend, I was reading a blogpost which said that there weren’t really that many women booksellers in the Victorian era, which I think makes it all the more remarkable that these late Victorian and early-twentieth century Scotswomen were quietly forging careers in the music business. So, I shall carry on quietly digging away to find out what I can about them all, and at some point, one, or hopefully two interesting articles will emerge. Watch this space!
Success, for me, is research findings, in print!
Not all research materials are scholarly journals (obviously), and in the Arts and Humanities, not everything is online. Nonetheless, I needed to read a substantial magazine article, and the nearest copy was in our renowned Mitchell Library.
I woke this morning to grey skies and steady, insistent rain. My first thoughts were that the seedlings planted last night had had a good start to their grown-up garden life, and then (on a different train of thought), that I was going to get rather wet going through to Edinburgh’s Morningside this afternoon.
Then I remembered that article in the Mitchell.
Did I feel like another soaking in one day? No matter. It’s a research morning, and this is research. Indeed, I found useful information that’s immediately relevant, so I’m glad I made the effort. I did get rather wet, but I got the feature copied, rewarded myself with a takeaway latte, and headed home. It’s a salutary reminder that not all research is high-flying or glamorous; that there’s worthwhile data in non-scholarly publications as well as historical old sources – and after all, there’s plenty of time to dry out before the next outing!
NB. Scotland isn’t kind to neat, efficient-looking collapsible umbrellas, but my large, pink golfing umbrella is going to have an airing later. Glamorous, me? No!
At least a couple of decades ago – long before I was interested in the social history of amateur music-making in Scotland – I came across a curious piece of sheet music. Knowing that my other half is more than a little interested in Glasgow trams, I made a photocopy and kept it safe. Every so often, we would joke that I’d get someone to sing it when it came to ‘final curtains’ time. (It would make a nice change from ‘Abide with me’ and the 23rd Psalm, after all!)
I hadn’t looked at ‘Glasgow’s Tuppenny Tram’ in years, but whilst I was proofreading my forthcoming book, I decided I really should look to see who had published that song. James S. Kerr? Mozart Allan? Galbraith’s in Renfield Street? Certainly not Bayley & Ferguson or Paterson’s. So I looked. The song was self-published in 1926 by the author and composer, an entertainer called R. F. Morrison. The song was actually arranged by Carleton H. Smyth, who was secretary and treasurer of the Glasgow Masonic Burns Club. (You’ll see that Morrison was also the author of ‘Just a wee Deoch-an-Doris’ and ‘Suvla Bay’. Which is interesting, since Harry Lauder’s songsheet of ‘A Wee Deoch-an-Doris’ seems not to mention Morrison at all – but I couldn’t access Morrison’s version without going to the British Library, so I shall have to remain mystified.)
There’s no’ much wrang wi’ Glasgow, auld Glesca on the Clyde;
Glasgow’s Tuppenny Tram / R F Morrison, 1926
St Mungo’s name is known to fame, ower a’ the world wide.
There’s bonnie places roon aboot, that thousands never see,
You need no ship to make the trip, so be advised by me.
CHORUS.
Take a trip on a tuppenny tram, and happy you will be,
From daylight till dark, there’s many a park, awaitin’ for you & me,
Don’t use your hoard for a Daimler or Ford, Like the workers of Uncle Sam,
Since Maister Dalrymple made motorin’ simple, wi’ Glasgow’s Tuppenny Tram.
Whilst we remembered the closing lines of the song (after all, we knew that Mr Dalrymple was a significant name in the history of Glasgow’s tram system, until he disappeared off to Sao Paulo in Brazil as a transport consultant), it’s fair to say we hadn’t looked properly at the whole song.
I’ll spare you the second verse! It lists a number of places you could visit by tram. (As the chorus says – see above – no need to waste money on a car!) Meanwhile, the back page is a large advertisement reminding you that there are 32 parks to visit in Glasgow (and still get home in time for tea), and reminds the reader to take care crossing the road …
It’s rubbish! It does incorporate some bits of Scottish song-tunes, but Carleton H. Smyth’s setting was very humdrum. Only one actual mistake in a chord, to be fair. My book is missing NOTHING AT ALL by not referencing this song.
Oh well, it’s a nice reminder of what Glaswegians would do on a sunny Sunday afternoon, or during Fair Fortnight if they had a bit more time. (Apart, of course, from going to variety concerts to hear the likes of R. F. Morrison! I wonder what the other acts were like?)
Meanwhile, I have now been positively begged not to have the song performed when it comes to the final curtain! What’s it worth … ?!
The book I’m getting published later this year is not my first.
But our son Scott McAulay has beaten me to it, in being the first to see a Routledge publication this year – two chapters in this essay collection. And I understand he’s in another collection, too. Scott has an architectural background – we have very different specialisms! I’m a proud mum.
One of Scott’s illustrations is by his older brother, by the way!
I’ve been extraordinarily busy. Today (a ‘retirement’ day), I’ve put in a full day’s proofreading and indexing work, topped by an evening stint. I have an imminent deadline!
Not a problem – but things went a bit awry this evening. Sorry, I have no words of wisdom today, just a reflective poem of sorts! You could almost say it’s Kailyard style. (‘Kale yard’ is a homely form of Scottish literature from an earlier era. It’s not high art.)
I checked my proofs (I went through twice), and tweaked what needed tweaking. My husband cooked the dinner (yay!); our son refrained from speaking.
I laboured hard at indexing, with one ear on the gate – the Sainsbury’s van was imminent; I hoped he’d not be late.
A rattled bolt – I shot outside to greet my “daily bread”, but to my horror, there I faced a lanky Glasgow ‘ned’.
The Author yelled – the Ned jumped back, then leapt up on the wall. He AND his mates seemed pure gob-smacked – thank God they didn’t fall.
I used some words not in my book, then fled back safe inside. The ‘Polis’ were awaiting, but no Neds achieved a ride.
The Sainsbury’s man turned up at last – I put the stuff away. Then back to indexing again – oh, what a fun-filled day!
It’s going to be a busy week – I have a lot to get done! So, to answer those questions about enjoying semi-retirement, or going away on holiday …
Yes, this book work is exactly what I want to be doing, and no, I won’t be contemplating any trips quite yet!!
Karen McAulay, Musicologist 