Origin of the Banjo.

[Carl Anderton]

Written Exclusively for The Cadenza.

New York, Sept. 11, 1901.

Editor The Cadenza:
After our very interesting conversation today about the origin of the
banjo, returning to my home, my mind still engrossed with the topic,
and feeling quite worn after the fatigues of a very busy day, I sought
the solace of my "sleepy hollow" that stood invitingly by an open
window through which came a gentle breeze, and still musing over the
learned views you had advanced, sweet Slumber came and bore me to the
land of pleasant dreams.

Now, while I enjoy the pleasure of dreaming, when the dreams are of an
optimistic character, I believe I have at least enough philosophy not
to be absolutely certain of anything- waking or sleeping- or permit my
imaginative faculty to verify as facts, hallucinations, illusions or
phantasies, yet instances do occur when things seem so real, don-tcher-
know? that they quite upset one's normal judgement.

Of course these vagaries are but the outcome of an emotional nature
uncontrolled in sleep which waking quickly dispels; so I will not
dwell upon the weakness, but what I am about to relate was so vivid
and withal seemed so reasonable, I hope it will suffice as reason
sufficient for my desire to submit it to your matured and practical
judgement; believing that "There may be more things in heaven and
earth, * * * than are dreamed of in your philosophy."

And now the relation:
I dreamed a beautiful spirit appeared to me, arrayed in a shimmering
robe of gorgeous loveliness, resplendent with rarest gems whose
iridescent hues outvied the colors of the rainbow; her fair brow
encircled with a halo of softest moonlight and, in a voice musical and
limpid as the tinkle of silver bells, she thus addressed me:
"Fear not, Mortal, I am thy friend. I come from the empyreal abode of
the gods, commissioned to endow thee with knowledge which has ever
been as a sealed book to the mind of man--to origin of our celestial,
our divine banjo."

Having thus briefly announced her mission, she drew from a golden
casket suspended from her waist a parchment scroll and placing it in
my hands--the while a most beatific smile illumined her angelic face--
she vanished!

Springing from my chair to detain and embrace the lovely creature, I
awoke, clasping only my window-curtain, and alone!

Of course it was but a dream, yet so vivid, so real! However, I
retained the scroll and as its contents may not prove uninteresting to
you, at least as a speculation, I take pleasure in submitting it.

THE SCROLL

"You see, it was this way: One day--so far back that the memory of
mortal man runneth not to the contrary-- when Apollo was taking his
accustomed stroll along the seashore, after having taken a few headers
in the surf, he accidentally stubbed his big toe against a prehistoric
turtle shell that had lain there for a few aeons under the burning
rays of the New York sun. The shell had long been tenantless--but the
occupants had left several high-grade ligaments--which the suns action
had hardened into never-wet, never stretch, never-break strings of the
finest brand, and drawn up well to the key of C (English pitch!), and
when Apollo and the shell collided there pealed forth from it the most
ravishing strains of music! Well now, that Apollo was jarred goes
without saying. He just hollered! He knew he had struck a cinch and
he had caught on for sure. Why? Because Apollo was no kid. His ear
was super-sensitive and highly cultured (of course, he had two good
ears, but that's the way we gods put it), and those musical sounds
were not lost in the shuffle. He felt that at last he had solved the
mystery of the the music of the spheres, and it was his for a
copyright with all the rights reserved. Whereupon he, with his other
toe, kicked the shell some more and nearly dropped dead when it struck
up "Shells of Ocean," including a pretty little tremelo passage sotto
voce. This almost took Apollo off his base, but he was cool; he
tumbled to the thing, and so quickly pulled himself together.
However, he had some misgivings; he realized he was but an amateur at
the business, and no sight-reader, to speak of. So he very wisely and
prudently gave himself a thorough course of lessons, after which,
realizing that he was a virtuoso for fair, he kicked the shell some
more and found he could kick about all up-to-date music of the day and
give cards and spades to such amateurs as Beethoven, Liszt, Chopin,
Paderewski, et. al., who, to put it straight, were plainly not in it
just a little bit.

"Well, after perfecting his technique, congratulating and shaking
hands with himself for having mastered all the intricacies of the
instrument--bar none--and giving himslf a diploma, Apollo's thoughts
turned toward home,; so, quickly running his bow through the rim of
the shell, the easier to carry it, and throwing it over his shoulder,
he hastened to Olympus, anxious to exhibit his new wonderful discovery
to the gods and goddesses and open a studio for their instruction. In
his eagerness to secure his prize, he had forcibly driven the end of
his bow through the shell that the combined strength of all the gods
was unable to detach it, and he thought he saw his finish. But Apollo
had a great head, and could shape up things to the queen's taste, so
he just picked up the whole business and proceeded to strike up one of
his favorite opuses, when lo-and-behold-you! in working out a little
prestissimo passage he happened accidentally to catch his thumb on the
string of the bow, which he had neglected to remove, and to his utter
astonishment--in which the gods and goddesses joined-- he pulled out
the very sound he was fingering for! That settled it. The rest was
dead-easy. The whole thing flashed on his quivering vision. The
"ban" was raised; "jo" naturally suggested itself by the law of
association. How often it is that, in the history of great
achievements, the unexpected happens just when it should happen! The
bow suggested the fingerboard and plenty of length for 22 frets; the
chord was easily worked down for a thumb string; the ligaments, and a
tailpiece warranted never to cut, completed the combination, and there
you are!

"There is not much more to be said. Apollo, being of a business turn,
quickly hired a factory and, after taking out a few patents, was soon
in shape to turn out a banjo that for resonance, tone volume, and
carrying power laid them all over!"

Sincerely,

Frank B. Converse.

[trapdoor2]

Carl,

I just love stuff like this. You ought to post it over on the Hangout
in the "Turtle Tonering" section...

Thanks for posting these little tidbits!

===Marc

[Carl Anderton]

Thanks, Marc, good idea: I done did it.

> > New York, Sept. 11, 1901.- Hide quoted text -
>
> - Show quoted text -