A couple of years ago (circa 2000) Q. David Bowers sent this author
two large boxes stuffed with the paper remnants of his long and in-depth
adventure into the world of automatic musical instruments. Amongst the
loosely packed and yellowing papers was an unfinished manuscript by Mr.
Bowers, written in 1971, originally intended for a future Hathaway & Bowers,
Inc., publication that never came to pass. This manuscript, which may be
quite interesting to collectors of a today's later generation, is
essentially presented for its historical merit and in its entirety, with
only minor typographical corrections. Occasional comments [in brackets] by Terry Hathaway have been added for clarity and/or
additional information not included in the original manuscript.
"A EUROPEAN TRIP" -- by Q.
David Bowers
During the early and mid-1960s I was a frequent visitor to Europe. At
that time most of that far-off continent was undiscovered by collectors of
automatic musical instruments. The late Eugene DeRoy told me, for instance,
in 1964 that he didn't know of a single collector of orchestrions on the
entire continent.
To be sure, collector interest was far from being entirely absent.
Particularly in England, where the Musical Box Society numbered several
hundred members, as did the Fair Organ Preservation Society, there was
interest in music makers of yesteryear. However, on the main continent of
Europe itself, interest was just in its beginning stages.
 |
Eugene DeRoy seated at his arranging
table graphically laying out the musical notes, trapwork effects and register controls for a new Symphonia music roll. |
One day in the early 1960s an airmail letter
arrived from Eugene DeRoy of Antwerp, Belgium. Mr. DeRoy told me that he was
a producer of music rolls--and, believe it or not, still was making rolls
for Hupfeld, Philipps, Weber, Popper, and other large orchestrions!
Furthermore, he offered me an instrument or two for sale. On my next trip to
Belgium (I visited Europe frequently in the search for rare coins--my only
business interest at this time) I visited Mr. DeRoy. I found him a
convivial, quick-witted person with an insatiable desire to fill me in on
the details of the "good old days" when he bought and sold orchestrions--and
made rolls for them. His Symphonia Music Roll Company was one of the largest
in Europe and during its heyday in the 1920s turned out rolls for over 200
different types of automatic musical instruments! Mr. DeRoy's business faded
during the late 1930s as the interest in automatic musical instruments was
replaced by the more popular and certainly far less expensive juke boxes and
electronic sound systems then being installed in public places. After the
Second World War the Symphonia business shrunk to a small size and was
primarily operated by Mr. and Mrs. DeRoy who sold replacement parts for
pianos and also made occasional music rolls for a dwindling number of
customers.
As I related in an earlier [Hathaway & Bowers, Inc.] catalog,
Mr. DeRoy kept a mailing list of some 6,000 customers who ordered rolls from
him during the 1920s and 1930 's. By means of post cards several dozen leads
were obtained. By following up these leads with Mr. DeRoy I acquired a
number of very interesting large orchestrions. However, for each clue that
an instrument still might exist, several hundred post cards would be
returned with "Out of Business," "Addressee Unknown," or some other such
notation. In a further effort to trace down some of the very large
orchestrions, Mr. DeRoy and his son-in-law, Jeff, personally visited many
dozens of locations. However, by 1966 or 1967 it appeared that the gold mine
has been exhausted--and that nearly all orchestrions that were still "in the
wild" in Europe had been located. It is interesting to note that since that
time very few additional specimens have come to light. Mr. DeRoy was in a
unique business and had access to most large instruments that were once in
Europe. When Philipps, Hupfeld, Weber, Popper, and several other companies
went out of business during the late 1920s and 1930s they turned their
mailing lists over to the Symphonia Music Roll Company in the hope that
their customers could still be serviced by Mr. DeRoy.
In the summer of 1969 I received a letter from Els, Mr. DeRoy's daughter,
informing me that Mr. DeRoy had passed away. I was very fond of Mr. DeRoy
personally--and the news of his death came as a shock. Not only did Mr.
DeRoy help me greatly with my own personal collection, and, later, with the
purchase of instruments for Hathaway & Bowers, Inc., he did something even
more important to me, he took a personal interest in the history of the
instruments themselves and furnished me with priceless information
concerning the history of some of the firms that once operated in Europe.
Much of the information he provided would otherwise have been lost to
history forever. We journeyed through Europe a number of times and visited
the sites of the Philipps factory in Frankfort, the various factories in
Waldkirch, the Welte factory site in Freiburg (this particular factory no
longer stands), and many others. Last time I had visited Europe, early in
1969, we spent a pleasant time together. So, I knew that this next trip
would not be the same without him.
 |
Leonard Grymonprez, Ghent, Belgium,
circa 1970. |
 |
| Oscar Grymonprez, Ghent, Belgium, circa 1970, father of Leonard
Grymonprez. |
In the early 1960s I received another
interesting letter--this one from Leonard Grymonprez, a Belgian whose family
had been in the organ building and repairing business since the 1880s.
Leonard had cultivated an interest in the English language by studying the
subject and practicing speech by visiting with his sister (who was also
studying English) once a week. His own personal interests lay in the same
direction as his business interests: organs and orchestrions. I don't
remember the contents of my first letter from Leonard, but it was
sufficiently interesting that I decided to visit him personally in Belgium.
We spent an interesting day together. I was only the second American he had
ever met (the first was Mr. Chappie Fox of the Circus World Museum in
Baraboo, Wisconsin). And, I was the only other person interested in
orchestrions that he had ever met--so we got along very well. After some
negotiation I purchased a Weber Maesto orchestrion from him. A picture of
this particular instrument appears on page 216 of "Put Another Nickel In."
The Weber Maesto remains to this day one of my very favorite
instruments--and it is a reminder of those long ago days when I first met
Leonard. [Leonard Grymonprez was born on October 7, 1932 and
died 56 years later on his birthday, October 7, 1988. Leonard's father,
Oscar Grymonprez, was also very active in the buying, selling, and
restoration of orchestrions and dance organs, and is remarkably still alive
and alert (as of June of 2002) at the age of 99. Although it was Leonard who
initiated the contact with Dave Bowers, Oscar also participated over the
year in dealings with Dave Bowers, and then from 1967 to 1972 with Hathaway
& Bowers, Inc.]
I furnished both Leonard Grymonprez and Mr. DeRoy with the names and
address of many collectors here in the United States. During the following
years dozens of instruments were sold by these two friends--and, as a
result, many large orchestrions and organs in collections in America today
trace their origin to one or the other of these two gentlemen.
 |
| Claes O. Friberg, circa 1975, happily seated at a player piano in
the Mekanisk Musik Museum. |
I first corresponded with Claes 0. Friberg in
1966 or 1967. Mr. Friberg, a native of Copenhagen, Denmark, was mainly
interested in barrel organs. When my book, "A Guidebook of Automatic Musical
Instruments" was prepared in 1966, Mr. Friberg inserted a small notice in it
to the effect that barrel organs were his specialty. Since that time we have
had many letters and telephone calls to and from each other. Claes, as I
call him now, shares my interest in the history and the stories behind the
various instruments--so in recent years he has been a tremendous help in
securing for me old catalogs and other data pertaining to music boxes,
reproducing pianos, orchestrions, and related pieces. We were friends, but
only on a mail order basis and we had never met. So, meeting Claes Friberg
personally was high on the schedule for my next trip to Europe--and
Copenhagen, which normally would be off the beating path of my regular
travels, was added to my itinerary. [Claes O. Friberg, born February 8, 1945, died in
late April of 1996 at the age of 51.]
A few months ahead of time, my wife, Mary, and I drew up an itinerary.
Unfortunately, time was rather restricted due to a pressing commitment here
in the United States shortly after the end of my trip date, so I could not
spend as much time in England as I had hoped. But, apart from this, an
interesting and hopefully worthwhile schedule was worked out.
Thursday, July 22--Enroute
On Thursday morning I awakened early in order to allow an hour or two to
pack my bag and get things in order for the trip. Arrangements had been made
with John Murbach and Terry Hathaway to live in the house while Mary, my two
boys--Wynn and Lee--and I made the trip. I checked. the Weber Maesto
Orchestrion, the Ampico Reproducing Piano, and several other instruments
around the house to be sure that they were in proper working order before I
left--for I knew John and Terry would spend many hours listening to them.
By eleven in the morning I was at Los Angeles International Airport ready
to check in on Pan American Flight 120--a nonstop Polar route hop from Los
Angeles to London. The airplane, a 747 jumbo jet, left at 2 p.m., two hours
late due to some mechanical difficulties in one of the engines. Scheduled
arrival time was 13 hours and 15 minutes later.
I was born in 1938, well into the airplane age, but I have never ceased
to be amazed at man's travel through the skies. To think that the trip from
Los Angeles to London, an odyssey that would have taken three or four months
by ship a hundred years ago could be accomplished in scarcely a half days
time is truly amazing. When the age of the SST arrives, as it will in just a
few years, the thirteen hour time will be "long" by comparison. The airplane
has been vital to our own automatic musical instrument business. Scarcely a
day passes without a visitor from the eastern United States or from Europe.
Collectors and dealers think nothing at all of "stopping by" here in Los
Angeles—even though we are two to three thousand miles away from, say, New
York City. In fact, I still remember when one enthusiastic Atlanta collector
and businessman, Allen Woodall, boarded a plane in Atlanta one morning,
visited our showroom and selected several instruments to be shipped back
there, and then returned to Atlanta all in the same day!
Anyway, although I have been to Europe two or three dozen times, the
fascination of the plane ride has never left me.
After the engine difficulties were corrected ("a leaky oil seal"--the
announcement said) we all walked down the ramp and boarded the Boeing 747.
Fifteen minutes later we were on the runway in the take-off position--and a
half minute later we were airborne. On such a long distance trip the planes
fly what is known as a "great circle route." This route, the shortest
distance between two points on the spherical surface of the earth, appears
as a curved line on a flat map. Thus, our plane flew northeast from Los
Angeles. Within a few hours we were in sight of Hudson's Bay in Canada. In
the northern latitude it never gets completely dark in the summer months.
Although it was theoretically the middle of the night by the clock when we
were in northern Canada and over Greenland, the sky was still tinged with
dawn as the midnight sun illuminated the sky. Time by the clock races ahead
at a dizzying speed on a west to east flight, so although it was only
thirteen hours after take off when we approached London, the time in London
stood at eight in the morning.
Friday, July 23--London
After we came to the terminal gate in London the pilot announced "we have
just made a fully instrumented landing. During the landing approach and
landing my hands were off the controls--and everything was done
automatically." Landing was indeed a perfect one--but I was sort of glad
that the announcement of the do-it-yourself landing was made after the
landing and not before!
The weather was typically London: warm, almost sultry, and overcast. My
head was full of visit plans for the day: A visit to see music box dealers,
Keith Harding and Graham Webb, a trip to nearby St. Albans to see the
beautiful museum of organs owned by Mr. C. H. Hart, and if possible, to
arrange a brief visit with musical historian, Arthur Ord-Hume.
However, I had spent a sleepless thirteen hours on the plane--and
although the clock cheerily announced it was time for a new day to begin in
London, according to my internal "clock" it was time to go to sleep! So,
Friday was spent sleeping, not seeing instruments.
Saturday, July 24--London
The first few days of my past European trips was sleeping days and
staying awake nights until I was acclimated to the time zone differences—a
time zone change of eight hours from California. However, for some reason, I
thought I would be able to adjust easier this time--but as it turned out, I
wasn't able to.
By Saturday morning I was sufficiently invigorated to venture out of the
Inn on the Park, our hotel which faced Hyde Park in London's West End.
Normally I tried to book reservations into either the Dorchester or London
Hilton, but this time my plans were made too late to secure space in either
one of these two hotels--so I was a bit disappointed when my travel agent,
Fred Cogan, said that he was able to secure space at the Inn on the
Park--"It is a new hotel--and I haven't stayed in it myself--but from what I
hear it is quite a nice place," he said. We weren't at all disappointed--in
fact, the hotel was really excellent and I plan to stay there again next
time.
I hailed a taxi and gave instructions
for Portobello Road, the center of activity in the antique business in
London. When I first visited Portobello Road, about ten years ago, it was
mainly a Saturday event. On Saturday various tradesmen, antique dealers, and
others erected tables in the street of rented spaces in stalls. Since that
time it has become somewhat more permanent. The transient Saturday street
tables are still there on that day, but the street itself is lined with a
number of stores and shops that do business on other days of the week as
well.
The most famous inhabitant of that redoubtable street, that is the most
important from the viewpoint of automatic musical instruments, is Graham
Webb who maintains premises at number 93. Graham's shop is like something
out of Charles Dickens. Piled high with musical treasures, there is hardly
room for any customers inside! But, few visitors would want it any
differently.
Graham was in the process of opening his store when I arrived--and he saw
me before I saw him. With his customary twinkle in his eye he said, "I heard
you were coming--and it is so nice to see you." I hadn't written in advance
as I was aware of the time zone change problem and the fact that I might not
be able to make as many visits as I had hoped--so how Graham learned of my
visit is a mystery. I forgot to ask him when I was there, so I still don’t
know.
Graham presented me with a copy of his newly published book, "The Disc
Music Box Handbook." A nicer gift could not be imagined for I was in need of
some reading material for later on in the trip when I would be spending time
traveling--and what better thing to read than a newly published book on my
favorite subject? "Business has been absolutely fantastic recently," said
Graham--and his shop, looking somewhat less full than usual, bore this out.
"How much is that Regina disc changer?" I asked. "I am quite sure that
one has been sold--it is on offer to another party and I am sure it will
go," was his reply. Music box after music box was marked "sold" so I didn't
ask about them. I did spy a beautifully inlaid and nicely refinished rather
large box on the floor near the entrance. I opened the lid and was greeted
by the gleaming musical comb and brilliantly polished cylinder. Seeing no
"sold" tag I said, "How much is this one?" "I'm afraid that that one has
been sold also," was Graham's reply. So, what I had hoped to be a business
visit turned out to be more of a social visit--but that was fine also.
Graham has a real enthusiasm for the things he sells--and I always enjoy our
conversations. It was with regret that our schedule did not permit us to
accept his invitation to visit his newly acquired home on the outskirts of
London.
Sunday July 25--London, Paris
Sunday brought with it a veritable downpour. I hoped this would not cause
a delay in our scheduled 4 p.m. departure by plane to Paris, and,
fortunately, it didn't.
The night before I
telephoned Frank Holland, proprietor of the British Piano Museum. It was
1961, I believe, when I first visited Frank who was living at 20 Hangar Lane
at that time. Frank, a retired electrical engineer, had the dream of opening
a museum--and proudly he took me to see his proposed museum site: A former
church located near the gas works in the area of Kew Bridge. When I first
saw the place, it was piled high with seemingly zillions of old church
hymnals and other long-ago books. Apparently the church had outlived its
usefulness for services and was now being used as a depository for church
supplies.
A year or two later Frank moved into the church and set up his museum.
Now, in 1971, the museum is in full operation--and an excellent museum it
is.
We arrived at noon. The museum’s first tour on Sunday was scheduled to
begin at 2:30, so we had time to go down to the end of High Street and have
dinner in a local hotel. Shortly afterwards we returned to the museum. "What
would you like to hear in particular?" queried Frank as he scurried about in
preparation for opening the museum. Opening time was scarcely a half-hour
away by this time--so I picked the highlights among the bigger instruments,
including some instruments that were not there two years ago during my
previous visit.
"I have just finished tuning up and working on this Hupfeld Phonoliszt
Violina. When the Musical Box Society was here on its tour a few weeks ago
it wasn't fully working, so if someone from that group comments to you be
sure to tell them that it is working now," said Frank--and I promptly agreed
to do so. The Hupfeld Phonoliszt Violina with its expression piano and
intriguing system of three violins played by a rotating horsehair bow was a
sensation when Hupfeld first introduced in the first decade of the twentieth
century. The instrument was immensely popular and many thousands were
sold—probably five to ten thousand or so altogether. However, time took its
toll of these instruments and they are quite scarce today. The Hupfeld
deftly played a violin concerto for us. The performance lasted only a few
.minutes due to the limited time we had available, but I wish it had lasted
for a few hours. The number one item on my next visit there will be to come
early and select favorite rolls to hear on this instrument.
Two large Imhof & Mukle Orchestrions, one restored and playing "and on
all eight cylinders" and the other semi-restored and not fully playing, were
next in line. The restored Imhof was a treat to hear. The tone of the
instrument was very mellow while, at the same time, cheery and lively. It is
not hard to see why such instruments were popular in mansions and castles
years ago. It would not have been difficult to have listened to it for
several hours!
Next came a Welte Cottage Orchestrion--which I recognized as being
somewhat like a model No. 2. "No, it's a model No. 2 1/2," said Frank
jokingly. Indeed, it was a hybrid between a style 2 and a style 3. Welte,
like most other makers of classical orchestrions, used standard catalog
designations only as a guide. Special models were made up on numerous
occasions and, more often, slight variances were introduced in normal
production runs. A particular model might have one rank of pipes more than
the catalog called for, or one rank of pipes less. Or, it might have a set
of bells or a set of xylophone bars, features not mentioned in the catalog.
The Welte sounded sweet and mellow, as I knew it would--from having heard
similar instruments. The Welte and Imhof instruments were primarily meant
for what were called "refined locations" in the original catalog--private
homes, hotel lobbies, and similar places.
Dominating the museum by its sheer immense size was a Welte Philharmonic
organ. During my previous visit to the museum it was in a very disassembled
state--with the chest visible here, a few pipes visible there, and some
woodwork visible still in another corner. Now it was all together and
playing--and what a magnificent instrument it is! Even if it hadn't played a
single note, it would have been an impressive addition to the museum, but
play it did--and the music was quite beautiful. Voiced in the classical or
traditional way (rather than like a theatre organ) the Welte played artists'
rolls from the 1920 's.
"I first learned of this Welte when it was in the living room of a large
home," Frank told me. "The instrument was on the market for sale, and two
Americans had already been there to see it--with the thought in mind of
buying it. So, I wasted no time in convincing the owner that the best
location for it would be the British Piano Museum. We are a part of the
National Trust, as you know, and by placing the instrument in the museum it
would be available for the public for many years to come. After some
negotiation we acquired the instrument and brought it here. As you know,
rebuilding it has been a very long process--what with the large number of
pipe chests and other components. Now that it is done it is one of the
favorite instruments in the museum."
By this time the magical 2:30 had arrived and visitors were trickling in.
Within a few minutes every seat in the house was taken--and some three to
four dozen were on hand to be entertained.
While I have known Frank for quite awhile and have talked to him at great
lengths, I never before had the chance to see one of his museum
presentations, I expected that it would be in the typical British style
("British people never use a sentence when a paragraph will do"--so once
said Harvey Roehl), but I was pleasantly, surprised to find the talk was
informal and full of human interest topics. In short, it was keyed to the
audience perfectly. From the smallest Regina music box to the immense Welte
organ the music was excellent and the presentation was likewise--and the
audience loved every minute of it. The only embarrassing moment was when
Frank told his audience that "we have some distinguished visitors from
America today, and will you, Dave, please correct me if I make any error?"
But, really, I wouldn't have changed a word in Frank's presentation. In
fact, had I been in charge of the tour I couldn't have done half as well
myself.
All too soon our visit had to end--and we climbed into our waiting taxi
for the trip to the airport.
 |
| Roy Haning standing in front of a Coinola CO keyboard
orchestrion, circa 1965. |
Two hours or so later we were in the Paris
Hilton. After a quick dinner in "Le-Western," a Western motif restaurant in
the basement of the hotel, we ventured out to see what was going on.
Scarcely a block away from the hotel stood the famed Eiffel Tower, designed
by Gustave Eiffel and erected for the International Exposition held in Paris
in 1889. Since that time it has been a delight to millions of visitors who
admire its majestic sweep into the Paris skies. On a trip to Paris with Roy
Haning five years ago, I remember how delighted Roy was to find a small
piece of scrap metal that had been cut from the Eiffel Tower by workman who
were replacing some struts. A friend of his back in his home town of Troy,
Ohio told him to "be sure to bring back some pictures of the Eiffel Tower."
Roy did better than that, he brought back a piece of the Eiffel Tower
itself! [Roy Haning and Neal White, of Troy, Ohio,
were famous for their huge collection of music boxes, coin-in-the-slot
pianos and orchestrions, band organs, and dance organs. The music box
collection and much of the coin piano and orchestrion collection was sold
off through Hathaway & Bowers, Inc., between 1968 and 1972.]
Tonight we took the two elevators up to the second stage level--and saw
the Panorama of Paris in the darkness.
The next day I visited a number of antique shops
in the French city. The Swiss Village, a flea market type of indoor-outdoor
antique bazaar the last time I visited it about five years ago, was mostly
transformed into an ultra-modern showcase of high priced antiques. Somehow
the old charm was left out in the process. I did have a nice visit with my
friend, Alain Vian, who treated me to the sound of a large Gavioliphone--an
instrument which was in reality a church pipe organ played by cardboard
music books! [In 1957 Alain Vian, of Paris, France, acquired the
entire workshop (documents, tools, and automatic musical instruments) of
Georges Poirot, born in 1896 and who had died in 1954, and who was also the
last organ builder in Mirecourt, France. Then, for a number of years
following the 1957 acquisition, Alain Vian sold off many mechanical
instruments (organs), sets of tools and archives to collectors in the USA.] Accustomed to the Gavioli fairground organs, I wasn't quite prepared for the
mellow, almost reverent, sounds that emanated from the newly restored
instrument. The organ was built about 1904. Alain Vian, interested in the
history of the instrument and knowing my interest in the same subject,
pointed out that Limonaire Freres, a competitor of Gavioli, made music books
with "Gavioliphone" marked on them. Actually, I supposed that the thought of
a competitor making music books or music rolls for a rival firm isn't
unique. Come to think of it, the Operators Piano Company of Chicago,
Illinois made type "G" rolls for use on the instrument of its competitor,
the J. P. Seeburg Piano Company. I suppose that profit is where you find
it--and more co-operation existed between the old time firms than we
sometimes think would have been the case.
In the mid-afternoon we went. back to the hotel to watch the Apollo 15
launching beamed by satellite from Cape Kennedy. The commentary was, of
course, in French--but with Mary on hand to translate I was able to follow
what was going on. In a way it was nice to see that the French are as
interested in our space program as we are.
Tuesday, July 27--Enroute to Brussels
Early in the morning we went down to the Avis Rent-a-car counter at the
Paris Hilton to make arrangements for our .automobile trip which was about
to begin. We were given an Opel station wagon which, though not large by
American standards, was ample for our luggage and us. By nightfall, we
arrived in Brussels, Belgium. With a full schedule set for the coming day,
we went to bed early for a good nights rest.
Wednesday, July 28--Belgium
[No further data entry – the story remains unfinished.]
Q. David Bowers
Circa 1971
