My experience in developing and placing the human voice extends from 1882 to 1912, thirty years. During that time I have had a wide and varied experience with men and women and girls and boys of all ages. The perfecting of the art of tone production in each individual case varies with each student. No two persons can be taught the general principles of the art only. The individual must be studied and the voice analyzed as a doctor diagnoses a special case. Every nation has also its peculiar way of using the voice in singing folk or national songs. As we have in the bay cities a cosmopolitan population, it has been my opportunity to study the different nationalities that have applied to me for private instruction. The Italian and Spanish are the most susceptible students. They live in the realm of music from childhood. It is a part of their existence; they seem to have a natural interpretation of songs and singing. After the first placement of the voice I have had only to lead and give them the picture of the work before them and my task was a pleasant hour spent in portraying the poetical application of sentiment to their own individual understanding. The English, Scotch and Welsh voices are known for their fine tone production, unusually strong voices, clear, high and sympathetic, especially the Welsh female voice. They sing high, most of them, and clear as the meadow lark. The Germans sing with enthusiastic spirit and most of them with Wagnerian effect, hearty and robust in their chorus singing, a loud tone quality is their aim. It is the teacher's art to bring out and to modify all these extreme faults and change all these varied ideas and different accents of speech into a harmonious blending and acceptable whole.

I have been obliged to reject many applicants for varied reasons. I have always felt sorry for those with good voices and without means or without encouragement at home. Many a fine natural voice has been lost to the musical world by being ridiculed by the very ones who should have given a helping hand. Had these parents known what music has done for the world and for individual beings they would have realized the advisability of giving their children a musical education. I have found the French pupils the most difficult to control in regard to the nasal quality of tone production. They use the nasal cavities universally in their speech and I never was quite satisfied in my mind about the tone quality. Being of the Bel Canto school, aiming for pure melody and the best tone to be produced by the human voice, I was never satisfied with the result and yet I have heard French artists who were splendid singers. But the tone was always too high in placement for my full appreciation. The American voices were satisfactory almost without exception. Instability was the great fault; they have not enough earnest concentration in their work and soon discontinue or change to other teachers and many of them who started out with a full determination to be singers have done nothing for themselves. Several of my pupils were negroes and while I found rare voices among them they were never in a financial position to do much for themselves. One of these had a rich contralto voice of the finest touch and was a fine pianist. Another had a still more beautiful voice but, unfortunately, her husband was not musical and she sang little after her marriage. This is a real tragedy.

I have often wondered why are we given these gifts and yet denied the opportunity to develop them. I find the rarest voices among the poor and middle classes. In relating to me many of the episodes of his travels around the world, my son told me of the children, eight, nine and ten years old, of Italy playing on the street corners the arias of the operas on their violins with skillful and artistic fervor to the astonishment of the travelers who visit their ports. It is a natural gift, music is their life. There are few places in the civilized world that have not produced singers of repute. Yet we have two nations that we never expect to hear from in this respect, for it is a known fact that the Japanese and Chinese are wholly unmusical. Five discordant tones compose their scale, unmusical and untrue chords, or, one might say, discord.

Knowing this, imagine my surprise when in January 1897, I received a call from several women of the Chinese mission. With Miss Mabel Hussy I had assisted in giving the Chinese pupils of the Presbyterian mission Sunday school an entertainment on New Year's eve. I sang them a Christmas story of Robin's return, descriptive of the coming home of the sailor boy, with the picture of an open fireplace, the singing of the children's carols, the wreaths of holly, the grandmother at the spinning wheel, the mother tearfully placing the evergreens on the wall and pictures, thinking all the while of her boy. At last the Christmas bells chimed the midnight hour to be followed with the raising of the latch and the happy return of the long expected son with the snow upon his hair. All this was listened to with rapt surprise as I carefully articulated the words so nothing of the story be lost. I accurately scanned the faces as I sang and I saw I had opened a new world to them. At the close of the number I was roundly applauded by these 50 old and young Chinese students, who, well groomed and in their best suits, sat prim and proper. I little thought that among my auditors was a young man, about seventeen years of age, the servant of Mrs. Zeno Mauvais, intently listening and satisfying his long cherished desire to become a singer. This boy was the first Chinese born in Watsonville, Cal. When he was small his parents removed to several smaller towns near by but, not liking any of them, they eventually settled in Ripon and started a Chinese laundry. Lee Tung Foo, or Frank Lee, as he was called, went to the Mission Sunday school and with the rest of the pupils learned to sing some of the Gospel hymns in his way. He wanted to go to day school but his father would not consent and placed him in one of the hotel kitchens to wash dishes. This did not suit the young man and after a short time he ran away to secure an education. He managed to get to Fresno where he became cook and servant in the family of Prof. S.B. Morse. He was so well liked that he was assisted in his desire for an education and through the kindness of the daughter of the house began piano lessons.

After some years he went to Oakland and was employed by Mrs. Mauvais. Having learned all of his notes he was able to read the Gospel hymns and play them on the piano. Because he was continually at the reed organ in the mission the other boys made fun of him and called him Crazy Frank. After having heard me sing it occurred to him that I was the very person to teach him and he importuned Mrs. Mauvais to find me and she and her friends came to ask me to teach this boy the art of singing. I only laughed at them as I was not particularly fond of the Chinese and never employed them in any way. I refused three times, explaining that it was useless to undertake such a task. I expected nothing more to come of it, but in a week I was asked once more and was told the boy was broken-hearted with disappointment so I unwillingly consented. I was obliged to teach him after his work was done and some times he came as late as nine o'clock, tired and unfit to sing, but nothing daunted, he was there.

At last I believed that I might be able to achieve something in the development of the Chinese that would be altogether new in the musical line. Because I have succeeded with "the impossibility" (as he put it) I have placed the teaching of this Chinese as one of my greatest achievements in the art of vocal culture. He had the most indomitable will and determination to succeed, and he was the most faithful and conscientious and upright pupil I ever taught. It would require many pages to tell of the difficulties in his pathway. His people were enraged at me for leading their son away to be like all the "white devils" of America. I had to hide him for a year. He was the oldest son of the family and was obliged to marry before any of the other members could marry and he appealed to me to help him. Mr. Waterman of the Berkeley high school allowed him to come there and the Misses Shaw, teachers, took him into their home where he did their work and went to school. When the year was over the way was once more clear for him to take up his music. He had not lost anything as he had joined a church choir and sang bass. When the school closed he was given a fine recommendation as a model pupil and all the teachers parted with him reluctantly.



After I changed my studio to Thirteenth street he worked for the family of Mr. H. Stedman of Alameda, manager of the Zeno Mauvais music store and went to school in Alameda. Later he worked for the Southern Pacific Company at Wright's station. This made another break in his progress for over a year. He began in earnest when he returned in 1903 and he steadily forged ahead. While he was away he studied and pondered over all the former instructions and with the aid of a pitch pipe he soon was busy at his songs and exercises. He returned in 1904 ill, discouraged to the breaking point. After my accident I was much exercised as to the outcome of all these years of preparation. He was ready to start out as a singer but his heart failed him at last and he became disconsolate. He could not work and had no money. I saw the situation was desperate and took things into my own hands. As a favor Mr. Carlton of the Empire Theater, Oakland, called and heard him sing October 24, 1904. He doubted his being a Chinese. I assured him he was. "Well, certainly he shows his training," was the reply. He was immediately engaged. He had a list of seventy-five songs, sacred and secular, of which he could be proud, and he sang them in English, German and Latin. For three months we had the excellent assistance of Director J.H. Dohrmann at the piano and twice a week we had a full rehearsal. By the time the engagement was secured we were ready for it. He opened at the Empire, January 30, 1905, with unbounded success and received many floral tributes from the pupils and friends. He sang a week, beginning February 13, at the Lyceum, San Francisco. On February 20 he was engaged by the Savage Opera Company in San Jose, February 27 in Sacramento and March 13 in Fresno. He went to Portland, Oregon on March 30 for three months and April 12 was in Astoria. I was in constant touch with him. In 1908 he sang in Brussels and later in London in the great Coliseum for 15,000 people in aid of the Typographical Union of Printers and Engravers. I received a letter from his manager who assured me I had reason to be proud of my singer for he was making good and had many friends among the theater goers and managers of the different circuits.

Before going abroad Lee Tung Foo had sung in all the larger cities of the United States. During all these years he had much difficulty in his art and in addition had to do all his booking single-handed. After filling out his work in 1911 he came to California for the first time in six years. He sang one week only at the Empress theater in San Francisco and having an engagement of forty-four weeks on the Eastern circuits soon left. When they were completed he came once more to his home in the early part of 1912. After his week in Oakland he sang all through the south and interior and later in Oregon and British Columbia, returning in September to fill out the engagement at the Empress, then again go on the Eastern circuit.

I have necessarily given more space to this special pupil and were it possible to state accurately all the circumstances in his life you would all agree with me that he deserved credit and recognition in a musical way and proved himself a hero during the years he was perfecting himself. He has never had any other instruction than mine and has been true to the first placement of voice and development in the art of singing. He goes to hear the best artists and takes his lessons from their work; sends his criticisms of them all marked upon the program to me for approval; keeps his ears and eyes open to all advancement in his art; has acquired a graceful and acceptable presence and personality on and off the stage. Musicians all like him; his managers praise him and give him work as an acknowledgment of his ability to entertain. I have still a circumstance to relate which makes his singing the more marvelous and marks an "O.K." on my efforts to make a Chinese with a dull, unmelodious, unmusical voice succeed. Of course he never had the clear, ringing tone that is in the gift of the white race and he could not always get the vowel sounds to suit me and I attributed the fact to his being a Chinese, so I was obliged to be satisfied with the result obtained. He made me a promise when he came home in 1911 that he would not sing for any one until I had heard him after all these years, for if he did not please me I would not let him sing. I was trying his tones and found he had developed wonderful deep and full tones and in the second series as high as E flat, but he could not take high F to my surprise after having two other F's so perfect in their tone color. I was so dissatisfied, I said, "What is the matter that you do not take this note?" and as I spoke I noticed he kept the tongue close to the front of his teeth. I said, "Why do you use the tongue like that," and he said, "I have always done so," and I was most impatient at that when I am so particular with pronunciation in a pupil. After an examination I found to my surprise that he had all these years been tongue tied. I simply stared at him with astonishment; to think that it was possible for any one to sing as well as he did with this affliction. I said, "Now, Frank, you have faithfully done everything I ever asked you. Will you do one more thing for me?" He replied, "Will it make me sing?" I said, "Yes, will you do it?" In an instant I had his promise and the next day his tongue was released and on the fifth day he had his high F. He tells me he can now sing it with power and hold it as he should. There is nothing left to be done by me in a technical way. He is now a singer and not a bad one.



CHAPTER TWENTY

WHAT I KNOW OF THE VOICE AND OF TEACHING

In taking up this subject, it is not my purpose to give lessons in voice culture on paper. There is, of course, but one way to sing and that is the right way. Every teacher thinks his is the right one. This can be proven only by the result upon the pupil. Does every teacher understand the training of the voice and can he impart his knowledge to the pupil and enable him to acquire a perfect mastery over the tone production and management of sound in singing with this invisible instrument? Can he surmount the technical difficulties and the mechanism of the vocal organs? The inner consciousness is the only safe guide for teacher and student.

The strictest attention should be directed in the beginning by all students to the exercise of forethought, deliberation and mental energy, attributes which are of the greatest importance, more so perhaps than physical strength. A conscientious singer is rewarded after arduous work by gaining the power of emotional expression which the human voice possesses beyond any other musical medium. There are two distinct branches used in the study of the voice—the technical and esthetic. The mechanism and healthy production of the voice and its development belong to the first work. Taste and feeling and a sympathetic and sensitive nature, combined with a cultivated musical organization, a poetic temperament and a pleasing personality, with magnetic fire capable of holding listeners enthralled, are of the other work.

In my long career in song I have especially noted the appearance of a singer. My first impressions have usually remained. In justice to the fine contralto, Schumann-Heink, I will relate my first impressions of her in song. Mr. L. Sherman of Sherman & Clay sent me, to my great delight, two tickets for the opera of "Lohengrin." I had never heard the opera nor the singer. When I heard her sing her role, her first notes so astonished me I just held my breath, I could not realize the voice of a woman, she sang like a baritone. The opera was given in German, and I thought I never heard such a masculine voice in my life, and the whole opera was spoiled by her number for me, and the impression was so lasting that nothing could induce me to hear her again after that opera. I could not bear to think of such a man's voice in a woman. This was when Mapelson was here in 1884. I never heard her again until 1908 at Ye Liberty. Everybody had lauded her all these years, and I never expressed my opinion but held to my impressions on my first hearing of her work. At last I asked myself, why should all these musical people call her great and praise her tone productions as being so perfect, and I stand alone in my opinion. I resolved, if she ever came again, to hear and see if the fault lay with me. The opportunity was granted me in 1908 and, engaging a box in the gallery, I took two pupils with me to hear the great singer and accord her justice if I had erred. I beheld a wholesome looking woman, but not beautiful. She was gowned in a stylish robe of rich material, and on her head a white lace hat with soft white plumes which lent a charm and softened her otherwise angular features. If I had received a shock at her first appearance, I certainly was the most surprised woman in the audience when she began her group of songs. Her first notes convinced me that she had changed her methods completely since singing in opera. She had found that singing in concert and singing the heavy work of Wagner were two distinct methods, and to succeed she had chosen the Bel Canto and forsaken Wagner. I never heard a more beautiful lullaby than she sang, with all tenderness and mother love running throughout her lines. Her German songs were also charming and well phrased and the interpretation perfect. Knowing the German language myself, I was able to appreciate and understand her rendering of them. It was only once she gave one or two of those former bellowing notes, and as quickly as she had uttered them she changed to the touchful notes that were more pleasing. I fully enjoyed the concert as much as I had disliked the opera which I heard in 1884 and which had left such an ugly impression. It is with the greatest pleasure that I also add my best appreciation of Schumann-Heink's singing, for she now sings just as an artist should who understands the art of singing, correctly, naturally, easily and comfortably.

To gain the height of vocal art is to have no apparent method, but to sing with perfect facility from one end of the voice to the other, emitting all the notes clearly and yet with power; to have each note of the scale sound the same in quality and tonal beauty as the ones before and after. This is the highest art and a lifetime of work and study are necessary to acquire an easy emission of tone. One must have a complete understanding of anatomical structure of the throat, mouth and face, with their resonant cavities which are most necessary for the proper production of voice. The whole breathing apparatus must be understood because the whole foundation of singing is breathing and control of all the functions which compose the musical instrument. A singer's reliance depends upon the breath, as on the stability to economize the air during its emission from the lungs. Steadiness, strength, flexibility and sustaining power of the voice depend upon this knowledge and intelligent use of it. I hold the art of singing in such reverence that I feel I am walking upon sacred ground when I am employed in the teaching of the human voice. It is notoriously difficult to give rules for singing to every one alike. I have found out in my long experience of development of different voices under my guidance that no two persons can be taught alike. As faces and people differ, so do also the voices. There are general rules to be observed that all can understand, but outside of that, teaching of the voice becomes an individual study of every conscientious and capable teacher. No one should attempt it unless he understands perfectly the anatomy of the muscles that are used and compose the vocal apparatus, their placement and uses. Instructors should be perfect singers themselves and able to give an example of every tone as accurately as it can be produced by the human voice. A teacher who cannot produce a perfect tone has not the right to teach. Why should the proper training of the voice continue to be the least progressive of all professions, and why should there be less care and work used in the development of the most beautiful gift that has been given to mankind, the human voice? While this gift has not been equally bestowed on every one, yet there is not a being who could not sing if he were properly taught. It is not the great-voiced singer that gives the most beautiful song. While he is to be admired for his grand tones and magnificent work, it has taken years of technique to produce those tones through perfect knowledge of breath control.

Teachers of the eighteenth century required many years of hard study from the pupils before they were considered competent to illustrate the art of tone production and before the masters considered them singers or sent them forth as exponents of their art. Why all this work to acquire the art of producing beautiful tones? We must use intelligent understanding in the use of this instrument which is such a rare gift to us. Thrice happy are those who are able to give to listening humanity the full comprehensive and soulful touch of song which the individual instrument is capable of producing. There is so much more in singing than the mere possession of a beautiful voice. The singer must be able to supplement the beauty of the voice with intelligence in the exposition of the song. But few realize how much skill this demands. No amount of intelligence will enable a person rightly to interpret a song if he has not learned the elements of singing or has not a complete command of the technique of his art. The most important element of beautiful song is the lung capacity, and thereon hangs the whole success; control of the breathing muscles. One has infinite gradations of the power of this column of air to produce the result in exquisite variations over the power and the coloring of his tones. Attack and management of the air column is an art in itself—a correct poise of the larynx. Upon the art of directing this column of air the quality of the tones depends. The greatest marvel is that those whom I have had to instruct do not know the first elements of breathing. To breathe to live and to breathe to be a singer are as far apart as the poles. Not one in twenty knows what lung capacity they have. The general rule is to breathe through the nose. That is all right if he is a gymnast or a ball player, but singing is just the opposite of this sort of breathing. Everything is relaxed and natural, the breath is inhaled through partly opened lips, slowly, evenly and quietly and allows not a particle to go through the nostrils until the lungs are completely filled and inflated. The large cells are in the lower part of the lungs, and when they are inflated and the diaphragm properly used so as to direct and control this column, one can sing as long as there is a particle of air to use. For seventy years I have used this method of breathing, and I am a perfect example of the preservation of the voice now in my seventy-sixth year, and have every note I ever used and can sing with as much power and breath control as I ever could. I feel no weakness or lack of strength in any part of my tone production.

I taught every pupil in this way and cured many of the tremolo habit by showing them how to breathe properly and then use this art intelligently. The art of breathing is not alone the thing to understand. There are many other points of importance to remember, but the art of breathing is the fundamental stone that has to be well grounded to secure the lasting success of the conscientious and intelligent student. Each person must feel the action of the different parts that go to make up the vocal instrument, which strengthens my assertion that each individual must have his own separate instruction as he possesses the charm of his own personality and musical temperament. Many students may have complete knowledge of how it should be done, and yet in the performance they do just the opposite, from a feeling of self-consciousness and the fear of being ridiculed in their efforts to sing. The mind must first recognize, then control, until automatic action is established and there is no danger of self-consciousness. One must learn the elements of singing—no amount of intelligence will enable a person rightly to interpret a song if he has not first learned that department thoroughly. For in order to offer an interpretation to an audience, the singer must have a complete command of the technique of his art. The singers of today are not so skillful as they were in the eighteenth century, because they are not patient enough to study the essential tone production which must be produced to make tones that are satisfying to themselves and also to the sensitive and cultivated ears of the listeners. A singer must reject any unmusical sound and, above all things, rule out any departure from the pitch. Singing out of tune is not singing at all. They can never be relied upon and are therefore unsatisfactory for any use at all. It seems simple enough to sing, yet to get the correct, pure tone one must work daily to accomplish perfection. There are many singers who attain a certain amount of distinction on the operatic stage that cannot produce a full, round, sympathetic tone. They may have powerful tones and astonish the public, yet in a short season the tones become dull or heavy or sharp, ear-splitting and their victorious career is finished and oblivion mercifully covers them.



CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

TREMOLO

In writing about one of the greatest faults in the teaching of vocal music I wish to put my most emphatic criticism upon the Tremolo in the voice and condemnation upon those who vitiate the human voice with the most intolerable fault that any one who pretends to sing could practice. In "The Musician" of November, 1908, there was an article upon this subject, which I read with profound interest and I wrote to Ditson & Co. to allow me the privilege of using the article as it was just the very thing that the student who was learning to use the voice ought to read. I was happily granted permission. The article entitled "The Singers tremolo and vibrato—their origin and musical value," was written by Lester S. Butter, who says:

"In April, 1795, in Romano, Province of Bergano, was born Rubini, King of tenors. His voice, small in the beginning, developed marvelously in tone volume and the swell and diminish of tones (messa di voce) called by the Italians 'vibrato of the voice' was the characteristic of his style.

"This ebbing and flowing undulating wave of sound upon sustained notes was the source from which sprung the modern tremolo and vibrato, which is so much in evidence among singers and so offensive to all really refined musical taste. There seems to be considerable confusion among singers and even writers as to the use and meaning of tremolo and vibrato. These terms seem to be used synonymously and the latter is used where messa di voce is meant. The Standard dictionary defines vibrato as a trembling of pulsating effect in vocal music caused by rapid variation or emphasis of the same tone (evidently messa di voce) proper distinguished from tremolo, where there is a vibration of tones; and the latter is a vibrating beating or throbbing sound produced by the voice or instrumentally.



"Ferdinand Sieber, in answer to questions 286 and 287, Art of Singing, says: 'Question 286. How should the longer sung notes be taught? Here the rule should be enforced that every radical note should be accompanied with a swelling of the tone where it is intended to sing the following ones in crescendo, and on the other hand, the strength of tone diminishes when these notes are to be sung decrescendo. If there is a pause, a messa di voce should be executed.'

"'Question 287. Is not then this constant vibration of the voice a gross fault? It causes great confusion in regard to the expression among singers of different degrees of ability. We read daily that it is reprehensible in this or that singer to indulge in this vibration, while in reality it is the tremolando which is blamed. The vibration of the voice is its inmost life-throb—its pulse—its spring. Without it there is only monotony. But if the vibration is changed to tremolando the singer falls into an intolerable fault which is warranted only in very rare cases when it serves as a means to express the very highest degree of excitement.'

"W.J. Henderson in the Art of the Singer, says of messa di voce, 'It is by the emission of tones swelling and diminishing that we impart to song that wave-like undulation which gives it vitality and tonal vivacity.' But when speaking of the rendition of Handelian arias, he evidently uses the term vibrato in the same sense as Sieber does tremolando. He declares it probably hopeless to plead for the abolition of the cheap and vulgar vibrato in the delivery of these old arias, remarking further that there is no account of its use in the writings of the contemporaries of Caffarelli and Farinelli and that master singers of their day were praised for the steadiness of their tones and the perfect smoothness of their style. He asserts also that vibrato is a trick invented after that day and out of place in the music of that period.

"Referring to Rubini, the originator of the fault, he leaves the impression that this singer used the vibrato only occasionally (which may at first have been the fact) and that as a means of heightening the dramatic effect. Grove, however, puts the matter somewhat differently. 'Rubini,' he says, 'was the earliest to use the thrill of the voice known as vibrato (the subsequent abuse of which we are all familiar) at first as a means of emotional effect, afterward it was to conceal the deterioration of the organ.'

"Imitators brought great discredit upon Rubini and his name is associated with an impure, corrupt vocalization. This with other influences, brought about a sentiment in composers as well as singers favoring vocal declamation, rather than singing in the sense in which that word was understood by the great tenor. In 1852 there was a cloud of imitators and it became so prevalent almost all singers of the day indulged in it.

"Ferri, a baritone who sang at La Scala in 1853, made such effective use of it upon any note as to secure a place in the records of that day as one whose whole song was a bad 'wobble.'

"Even the great Mario, whose voice is described as 'rich Devonshire cream,' was afflicted, but usually free from the vice. Clara Novello was greatly admired because she indulged in it with such discrimination, and Campanini, entirely free from the fault, was greeted with enthusiastic pleasure whenever he appeared. (The present writer heard Campanini in 1858, and he was one of the grandest man singers I ever heard. Stigelli was also one of the same style of singers at that time and I heard them both in grand opera and there was never a tremolo in either of their voices but perfect art in messa di voce, Bel Canto singing.) Another reference to Mr. Henderson will show that the weed still flourishes. Almost every singer of today tries from the beginning to acquire an habitual vibrato, (the present writer infers that Mr. Henderson does not use 'vibrato' with the Italian meaning messa di voce) to be used at all times without regard to fitness. Some of our singers have cultivated the trick, they have developed it into a perpetual tremolo. He thinks it would be interesting to know what Porpora, or Fedi, would have thought of a twentieth century tremolo, especially when introduced in an aria by Carissimi.

"It seems that the tremolo came into general use as an imitation of the so-called 'musical sob' of Rubini, which he used to express certain phases of emotion and excitement, and then it was cultivated by those whose tastes were lowered or having a desire to acquire more power than their organ was capable of safely obtaining or to conceal under the claim of artistic and real expression, the decay of their singing voice.

"Emma Seiler (voice in singing) has this to say: 'Unhappily our whole music is vitiated by this sickly sentimentalism, the perfect horror of every person of cultivated taste. This sickly sentimental style has also naturalized in singing a gross trick unfortunately very prevalent, the tremolo of the notes.' In a letter to Dr. S.B. Matthews (Music 1900), L.G. Gottschalk so succinctly gives his opinion as to leave no doubt as to his position on the subject: 'Tremolo of the voice is the result of either of the three following causes—diseased vocal organs, old age, or defective breathing, and as such has no excuse for its existence.' This is in agreement with Madam Marchesi in answer to a question in regard to the tremolo. 'The continued vibrato is the worst defect in singing and is a certain sign that a voice has been forced and spoiled. It is the result of the relaxation of the exterior muscles of the larynx which can no longer remain motionless in the position during the emission of the sound. This distressing permanent vibrato proceeds from ignorance or neglect of the register limits.' W.H. Blare gives the warning, 'Do not allow the voice to wobble, or become tremulous. A tremor is dangerous under any circumstances and an ineffectual substitute for sustained, pathetic tone color.' Sir Morrell Mackenzie, M.D., asserts that tremolo is injurious, as tending to beget a depraved habit of singing. It is the worst fault of a singer.

"In Kofler (art of breathing) he speaks of the tremolo: 'As to the tremolo in the voice, I will only say that frequently the air is expelled forcibly in order to picture with the voice a violent outburst of passion and emotion, a light tremolo will produce a good effect to give expression to a feeling of fear, anxiety, or anguish; outside of this, the tremolo must never be used in singing. This is often done to hide a worn-out voice, but more often because the singer is under a foolish delusion that this tremolo is very expressive and dramatic. I know of no style of singing so unnatural as a perpetual tremolando brought on by injudicious training and the ignorance of the art of breathing correctly.'"

I consider that I would be derelict in my duty as a teacher of voice did I not insert this most important chapter in my book. I am glad to have the best authorities on my side of the subject. I think it is the true reason why we have such a dearth of fine singers in this generation. It certainly is not because we have not the voices. California can produce as fine voices as are found in Italy, but as fast as they are found some unscrupulous fake comes along and finds the unfortunate victim who begins training and in a few months the papers are full of this wonderful find and future songstress. Then a recital is planned and the beautiful young woman (if appearance has any value) certainly fills all that has been noised about her. Endowed by nature with a voice of unusual power and expressiveness she is a most promising amateur and will perhaps be heard from in the future. At least she will be if native gifts count. At last the opportunity has arrived to hear this young singer of a few short months' training in a group of songs. Our expectations are at the highest pitch as she appears in all her youthful charms. But alas, how quickly is the spell broken. This wonderful singer has fallen into the hands of an incompetent teacher and the beautiful voice has been damaged until the tremolo is unbearable and we listen with pity at the havoc made in a few months of force upon the beautiful voice by such teaching. There never was an age when so many singing pupils are being taught, and yet we have no singers. Pupils do not apply themselves seriously to the real study of the voice as they do to other studies. To sing a song is all they aspire to do. They consider it all useless nonsense to practice technic. They want the glory without the conscientious work which is a daily requirement. Very few singers of today are provided with real vocal technic. They learn to scream one note at a time. A short life and a merry one, great glory and great salaries, sacrificing their voices at the demand for big tone. Perhaps they rejoice in a brief season. Afterwards their names are forgotten. Good singing, as all other performances, consists in the due adjustment of every factor connected with it.



I had my first experience in 1894 with the voice of a young girl that had a perpetual tremolo. I was thoroughly amazed at the unsteady wavering of each note. At last I asked her why she did not sing in a steady tone. Her reply was she could not help it. I then inquired if she had former instructions. She replied she had. After trying in vain to get a pure tone, I told her I'd rather not teach her as I had no knowledge of how to relieve her of this defect which could not be allowed in a perfect singer. Her disappointment was so great as to cause her to weep. My heart was touched for her misfortune and I told her I had only one remedy and if she would try that I'd undertake the work of restoring her voice to its normal state if possible. This was Tuesday. I asked her to return on Friday and if I saw any improvement I'd teach her if she would obey orders. I gave her a lesson in the art of breathing, something which had been entirely neglected before, and sent her away. On the following Friday she took her second lesson, and the voice was as steady as if she had never done the other work. I continued to teach her for two and a half years and at my first recital she and I sang the duet, Qui est Homo, from Rossini's Stabat Mater, and although my age was sixty and hers twenty, I was able to use my usual strength in singing the song as if she had been a mature singer. At the close of the number we were greeted with bravos and applause that lasted for some time. It was the crowning reward for my weeks of patient training and careful watchfulness. I never taught her after that evening and I heard she had several other instructors. I heard, however, that she had never returned to the tremolo after I had once placed her voice in the right path. Had she been a student I think the state of California would have been proud to have claimed her, but she lacked stability in her work. She still sings but I have not heard her for years. This was my first experience.

In the year 1907 I cured twenty-five young people, both girls and boys, of this dreadful habit, which seems to be the death knell of all of our California young singers. Every one of these became addicted to this habit through wrong instruction by persons who were not teachers at all in the true sense of the word, not knowing the construction of the voice themselves so as to lead the pupil into the proper channel, having lost their own voices by these methods they were not competent to instruct others. How is it possible for them to guide the young singer when they cannot give a pure tone example themselves for the pupil to follow? Freshness and steadiness are the most valuable properties of a voice, but are also the most delicate and easily injured and quickly lost. When once really impaired they can never be restored. This is the condition of a voice which is said to be lost. The prostration of the vocal organs are thus brought on by injudicious training if not the result of organic disease. This must be understood by the competent teacher who should not be mistaken in the nature of the organ or attempt by obstinate perseverance to convert a low voice into a high one, or vice versa. The error is equally disastrous, the result being utterly to destroy the voice. The teacher's vocation is first to find the natural limits of the voice in question and then seek to develop them into their most beautiful tone production before attempting to develop either higher or lower tones until these have been properly understood by both teacher and pupil. The pupil should also at once comprehend the importance of guarding the voice from injury and not transform or extend his gifts beyond their natural power and capability. The voice is often seriously impaired in using the high notes in both chest and head registers, by forcing of the high notes, and exaggerating the timbres and, if often renewed, will eventually destroy the best voice and the tremolo follows in consequence and the once promising voice is lost and forever inevitably destroyed.



CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MORE ABOUT THE VOICE

"There is little difference in the place we fill in life: The important thing is how to fill it."

This maxim applies also to the art of singing. There are singers and singers, but few become artists. Thousands upon thousands of dollars are spent upon them in America yearly. How many of these thousands of dollars come back to these students? It is a rare occurrence if we get one in ten thousand that really reaches this distinction in art, a just reward for long years of patient study. When such an artist does appear it is like a new star in the firmament, the wonder of the age. The beauty and glory of this wonderful singer is not hidden under a bushel, but the people of the earth flock to hear and see this rara avis. The regret is that such a singer can not sing on forever. It is strange that the human mind can retain the memory of song with such distinctness and acuteness in the different singers and remember the very songs they sang and how and where. When this can be done the singer can well feel that his work has made a lasting impression. Nothing less than the best will satisfy a lover of good music after having enjoyed the best at the beginning.

We are often annoyed when we hear foreigners say, "Oh, we have it better in Europe." There must be a reason for it, and it is not the lack of voices in America, for we have given many fine voices, including the only prima donnas who have risen to the height of distinction in our day. We are foremost in producing fine singers today as well as in the past years, both men and women, who are acknowledged by all to be the brightest stars in the musical firmament. Really fine artists have a charm that is recognized by all. They are in a class by themselves and admirers feel honored to know them or speak with them for a short while. It is a remembrance we go back to with pleasure every time we hear the name spoken. Not one of our generation ever saw one of the great composers like Liszt, Verdi, Gounod, Wagner, etc. Yet there is not a musical person on this earth but claims an acquaintanceship and comradeship with them and they are only known by their pictures and what has been written or spoken about them. We reverence them for their splendid work. It is the same with men and women singers—their faces are as familiar as though they were among us today. It is true we still have Nordica, Melba, Schumann-Heink, Calve, Eames, de Reszke, Adams, Sembrich and Terina, but their stars have gained their heights, and we must expect to see them dim and wane, but before they are entirely gone let us hope there will be others as good to take their places. While all students cannot be such artists they can strive for the best under good instruction and develop their instrument as near perfection as it is possible to bring it.

In my concert tour to Victoria, B.C., an incident occurred after the concert given at Olympia. It was my first trip and everything was new to me. I supposed I was a stranger to all and was to be heard in these places for the first time. We had sung at all the small towns along the Puget Sound and this was our last city before we returned. Our company was a good one—Walter C. Campbell, Vivian the Great, Margaret Blake, Mr. Wand, pianist, Dick Kohler, cornetist and leader of the company, and Mr. Atkins, advance agent. A very successful concert had been given and a fine audience appreciated us. A number of distinguished guests were present, including the governor of the state and officials of the city of Olympia. While I was preparing to go to my hotel, I was recalled by Mr. Kohler saying I was wanted by some friends in the hall who wished to speak to me. Imagine my surprise. Twenty-five ladies and gentlemen were awaiting me and I had never seen one of them before to my knowledge, but evidently I was no stranger to them. They were people who had repeatedly heard me sing from 1865 to 1874 in San Francisco and they were so pleased to hear me again they concluded to know me. My curiosity was aroused so I asked them when and where had they heard me. Some at Platt's hall, others at Howard Methodist church, Y.M.C.A. on Sutter street, Union hall, Mission street, Metropolitan temple, Fifth street, etc. I then asked them what songs I sang. Mr. Kohler jotted down the songs as they were given by the different ones, and they came out in this wise: three remembered Annie Laurie, four When the Tide Comes In, three Gatty's Fair Dove, two Kathleen Mavourneen, two John Anderson, My Joe, two Within a Mile of Edinborough, etc., two The Old Man's Song to His Wife, two Home, Sweet Home, five Last Rose of Summer, two Darby and Joan.



What a lesson it was to me of what a person can do as a singer. I had left a lasting impression upon these people and whenever they heard these songs spoken of or sung they went back in memory with pleasure to the singer who sang them long ago and they were pleased to know they were to hear me once again, even so far from where they had heard me before, and pleased to make themselves known in this pleasant way. I was touched deeply by their kindness and I asked Mr. Kohler to allow me to sing for them Annie Laurie and The Last Rose of Summer. He recalled Mr. Wand, our accompanist, and I gave them these songs as a compliment. Such episodes occur in a singer's life and we are reminded that when work is well done we will always have appreciation, and just reward, and leave a lasting example for good that others may follow with safety. These songs were not showy or brilliant, but they were songs that touched the heart, and left an impression for good. Our California audiences are metropolitan and changing forever. People are here one day and in a twelfth month somewhere else and in my time it was still more changeable than now. No matter what your audience is it is the singer's duty to please every listener as near as possible and leave an impression. My advice to the singer is: Make your song a part of yourself, understand the composer's meaning, have a picture before you of the situation, of the meaning of the sentiment. Never sing anything that is beyond your powers, select that which you are able to understand thoroughly yourself, and when you have mastered every difficulty and can give yourself pleasure in the rendering of it, you may be well assured you will make some one else happy. An audience demands your complete resources, so you must not imagine you can carelessly give anything but your best efforts. The selections should always be less difficult than you are really capable of performing, a safe rule to follow. Then your audience will know you bring authority to your task, and authority is very necessary to command respect.

He who does not think well of this makes a grave mistake, for while he thinks people will not know the inferiority of his work, there is always some one in the audience who does know. True artistic work should mean more to the singer than anything else, for that is what makes his reputation. No one can afford to be careless in the least effort if he wishes to become an acceptable singer to all classes that compose an audience.



CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

POLITICAL CAMPAIGNING. WORK AS A PATRIOT. GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC. FLAG-RAISING AT MONTEREY

In recounting all these episodes of a full life of varied engagements I must take in account my political career which has extended from the rebellion to the present time. I have had an unbroken line of action in political work and yet I never was a suffragette. My work was to help the cause of my country and those who went bravely forth to conquer or die. I come honestly by my patriotism, for I am a descendant in a direct line from Revolutionary stock. It was therefore most natural for me, when the battle cry was heard to "Be up and at them." If the enemy was in the wrong and our flag was in danger my voice went ever out in song. I can proudly say I have taken part in every presidential campaign from Lincoln down to McKinley. From the beginning of the Republican party I have worked for its candidates and won every time except when James G. Blaine was defeated. Oh, what a fight we had! I'll never forget the Mulligan letters sent out at the last moment, too late for a reply. There was a noble quartette of us, Charles Parent, bass; Mrs. Parent, alto; Sam Booth, tenor, and M.R. Blake, contralto. How the old Wigwam rang with our patriotic songs, the bands playing martial airs for the "Plumed Knight." How we stepped off with the song of the Mulligan Guards to the appropriate parody written by Sam Booth on these letters. Everything was done to win but we lost and when Mr. Richart read off the returns my heart sank within me and I said, "I never can stay to hear the result." I quietly went off the platform to my home, only to wake in the morning to learn that Grover Cleveland was to be the next president. He was never a favorite candidate of mine, no matter what he was in the eyes of the world. Impressions will remain in spite of facts. The faces of all our presidents and their lives are as familiar to me as the faces of all the masters of music.



President Lincoln came first upon my list of successful candidates and was the sixteenth president of the United States. I was one year old when he became a member of the bar in 1837. He was twenty-eight when I was born in Illinois. When he was inaugurated, March 4, 1861, I was twenty years old and at that time in Boston when the mighty civil war began. When he was elected the second term I was in Santa Cruz, California and in the midst of the campaign. I wonder how many times I sang Vive l'America and the Star Spangled Banner before the victory was won and the hurrahs filling the air at our successes. But our joy was turned into mourning when he was assassinated on April 14, 1865. He had only a short time to serve the nation that honored him. He was succeeded by Andrew Johnson, the vice-president. The eighteenth president was U.S. Grant, who served two terms, 1869-77. I was in San Francisco then and both times I was in the campaign and won. I saw him also in 1879 as he returned from the tour of the world. The nineteenth president, R.B. Hayes, came next in order. I was then in San Francisco and also in the employ of the Republican committee as vocalist. James A. Garfield became the twentieth president. He was inaugurated March 4, 1881, and had served only three months when the assassin's bullet laid him low. Chester A. Arthur, vice-president, took his place, the third vice-president, to become the nation's chief executive during the time I aided the Republican campaign committee. I now come to the twenty-third president, Benjamin Harrison, whose campaign was a record breaker. At that time I was living in San Bernardino, California, in one of the largest counties of southern California. This county had been democratic since 1849. The Republicans determined to win the county. There were enough progressives to attempt it and war on the corrupt old ring. The Grand Opera house was engaged as the place to inaugurate the campaign. My son was director of the Seventh Regiment band and also of the orchestra at the opera house. I had signed an agreement to sing for the committee throughout the campaign. With this arrangement the music was assured. All other details completed we were ready for the great battle. Our initial performance took place November 9, 1888, in the Grand Opera house, San Bernardino. The announcement in the morning papers after the first gun was fired was the following:

"Record of the Democratic party shown on the Chinese question from the days of '49, in an able and eloquent speech by Judge Adams of San Luis Obispo, at the Republican meeting last night.

"Patriotic and stirring music by Mrs. Blake-Alverson who was recalled five times.

"A magnificent speech upon the Tariff Question by Judge W.A. Cheney of Los Angeles.

"The assemblage was called to order by H.J. Hurley, Chairman of the R.C. Committee, who introduced John L. Campbell as chairman of the meeting. The list of vice-presidents was called by Lyman Evans Esq., etc."

This was the opening gun. The campaign began so auspiciously that the Riverside committee desired our services and on June 29 the train for Riverside left San Bernardino with five hundred boosters and at Colton about twenty-five men and a drum corps got aboard. On arriving at Riverside the visitors were received by the Republican club, the men forming in procession and seventy-five women taking carriages for the Glenwood and Rowell hotels. The line of march was long and when the procession arrived at the Opera house it was discovered the vast crowd could not be accommodated. The women were given the preference. Nearly a thousand torches were carried in a line headed by the Colton Drum Corps. At the Opera house, Hon. H.M. Streeter presided with E.W. Holmes as secretary. The gathering opened with political music and patriotic airs by the band and glee club. The address of the evening was made by A.H. Naftzger, followed by Capt. C.W.C. Rowell. Rev. T.C. Hunt made a ringing speech for Harrison and protection to home industries. Capt. N.G. Gill and H.B. Everest presented the new features of the campaign issues. Judge H.M. Jones made a fine and telling speech, causing much enthusiasm, followed by George Nickerson's singing with fine effect, The Red, White and Blue. Other telling speeches followed. Then Mrs. Blake-Alverson sang Vive l'America and in response to a tremendous applause sang the following song, to the tune of Tippecanoe:

The convention last week in Chicago Decided, unanimously, too, To put up a man for the nation, The grandson of Tippecanoe. They balloted lusty and strong, Won over the enemy, too, And when they had counted the ballots They saw 'twas for Tippecanoe.

CHORUS

Then vote for our Tippecanoe, Hurrah for our Tippecanoe; We'll pull down the old red bandana, And stand by the Red, White and Blue.

Cleveland has made them a platform, And thinks he can win for them, too; But, boys, it's too weak and too shaky, Free trade with us never will do. John Bull tried to rule us before, He found the Americans true, And away ran the redcoats before them And up flashed the Red, White and Blue.

CHORUS

Then vote for our Tippecanoe, Hurrah for Ben Harrison, too; We'll pull down the old red bandana, And run up the Red, White and Blue.

Words cannot describe the scene after this song. The Riverside papers said next morning: "It was certainly a rouser. Nothing like it was ever before seen or thought of in this city. Citrus fairs and all others sink into insignificance. With stirring music and with Harrison and Morton on top and that too without discrimination we must win, and win nobly."

I am not a poet by any means and in writing these verses I was put to my wits' end to have suitable lines for the occasion. I was but three years old when William Henry Harrison was elected president. My father was stationed in Evansville, Indiana. Small as I was I'll never forget the procession of Indians who frightened me so I hid under the bed and could not be found for the day. When I heard the grandson of Tippecanoe was nominated I began at once to sing the old song that was used in his grandfather's time and as I was getting the morning meal my son, William, and I set to work to compose suitable lines. How we succeeded you can see by the verses that took the house and every one on the platform by surprise. The cheering was deafening after each stanza was sung. It is unnecessary to state that the immense audience went perfectly wild with excitement.

One of the papers said:

"At the conclusion of her song, Hon. H.M. Streeter arose and addressed the immense throng and said, 'I thought I was a true American in spirit and a staunch republican all these years, but my patriotism pales this song and the patriotic spirit of this splendid woman. I propose we give three times three cheers to Mrs. Blake-Alverson' which were given with a vim that left no doubts of the sincerity of the enthusiastic people who gathered on this occasion and their appreciation of her efforts in making this demonstration such a stupendous success."

This was the second rally. Already the Opera house in San Bernardino was no longer adequate for the crowds that assembled nightly. Overflow meetings were held in the streets each time. At last we were obliged to have an amphitheater prepared to accommodate the crowds that were increasing with each rally. Never was such political excitement in that county. There was an enclosed stage erected and a piano placed upon it and each night speeches were made (and ringing ones too) and I think all the sleepy mossbacks were wide awake at last and realized that their kind of Democracy was tottering and waiting for the last blow. When Benjamin Harrison was elected the twenty-third president of these United States, San Bernardino county had demonstrations never equaled before or since. Every man, woman and child participated. Men from miles around were in the procession, features and transparencies of all kinds were carried by the marchers. After the procession they adjourned to the amphitheater for the exercises. My voice had been in constant use for two or three months and at the last moment I could not sing. I had written another song to be sung to the same tune, "Old Tippecanoe," and the chairman was obliged to let the people know I could not sing any more—the voice was gone. Such a howl of disappointment went up. I was obliged to stand before them and shake my head. I was not even able to speak to them. At this juncture I asked Mr. Brown to kindly read the verses, which were as follows:

We've voted and won now, my comrades, The struggle decisive and strong; The nation's decided the question For our bold and brave Harrison; May the nation's protection be blest To the workingmen's families and homes; John Bull can decide his own problems And call his Lord Sackville back home.

CHORUS

Then hurrah for our Red, White and Blue, Three cheers for our Harrison true; May peace and prosperity bless us For voting for Tippecanoe.

We'll veto no more now in Congress The bills that should long have passed through; The Mills Bill's a thing of oblivion And its framer can follow it, too. Then we'll carefully fold up the rag, They flaunted so lusty and brave, And bury it with the old relics, 'Way down in Salt River's deep wave.

CHORUS

Then hurrah for our columns so true, Three cheers for Ben Harrison, too; May peace and prosperity bless us For voting for Tippecanoe.

The American land is a nation And her people most loyal and true, And all others take care how they meddle Or insult her colors of blue. San Berdoo and the counties around Come in for their share of the fun And have rolled up the numbers most nobly And helped spike the enemy's gun.

CHORUS

Hurrah for the people so true, Three cheers for Ben Harrison, too; Secession can float their bandanas, But the loyal, the Red, White and Blue.



After the excitement had somewhat subsided, Senator Streeter called upon the platform seven veterans who had voted for the first Harrison and in a befitting speech decorated these men with a fine red silk badge and I had the honor to pin these badges upon their coat lapels. As I did so tears fell upon my hands from the eyes of these patriotic old men. I also decorated General Vandevere and in return he decorated me as the historical and patriotic singer of California.

The twenty-fourth president was Grover Cleveland who was elected in 1884, but was defeated in 1888 by Benjamin Harrison, and in 1892 was re-elected and inaugurated March 4, 1893. I did not take an active part in this campaign as I had never sung for a Democratic president and I would not begin with Cleveland. The next president was our beloved McKinley and in the last campaign for him I sang in the Mechanics pavilion in San Francisco to 15,000 people. I was then sixty-four years of age. I was worried a little that age would tell in such a great place, but if I failed it was for a good cause and my country. I consented to sing after much persuasion from Sam Booth and W.H.L. Barnes. I had in all my singing life never failed. I reluctantly consented, trusting to my knowledge of how to use the voice. At the appointed hour I was at the pavilion with Mrs. J.M. Case, my accompanist. When I came upon the platform I was cordially greeted by the old guard, W.H.L. Barnes, Sam Booth and thirty-five other men of the committee whom I had met in former years. After taking in the situation I was a little disturbed when I found the floor had been left for dancing and I was obliged to sing to the tiers of seats that arose as high as I could see and all that empty space to cross and one single voice to reach this great mass of people. For once I felt my voice inadequate for the effort. In the highest row of seats were several of my pupils and they were to give me the signal that my voice and words carried distinctly. I was requested to sing Vive l'America, the old civil war favorite song. I arose when announced amid a most tremendous recognition from the people of San Francisco. I was so excited I forgot my age and began my song. I had sung but one line and on looking up I saw the signal and it aroused me to my best efforts which proved most satisfactory. When I finished the policemen's sticks pounded on the floors, the band gave a grand rally, the people applauded and for many minutes nothing could be heard but the deafening demonstration and a recall was demanded. I sang Millard's Amalia from the Roman Charioteer and finished with the exultant B flat which arose in the softest touch and increased to the fullest crescendo and diminished to the pianissimo. At that moment by a prearranged plan, unknown to me, one of the most beautiful flags that ever floated was unfurled and fell in graceful folds by my side. I involuntarily seized it with my hands and finished amidst one of the greatest receptions ever given to any prima donna in my time, and I felt I was not forgotten by the people of San Francisco whom I had served for twenty-seven years. They gave me the honor to which my age and experience as a singer and patriotic charitable worker in the upbuilding of California and its institutions entitled me. Theodore Roosevelt became president on the death of McKinley. With his victory at the next election he became the twenty-sixth president of the United States. My practical work for the Republican cause ceased then. My voice and spirit still remained but the accident to me in 1901 put an untimely end to my public work. I have sung for Decoration days and Fourth of July demonstrations. My last one was in 1906 at the Macdonough theater and the people of Oakland gave me a befitting tribute. From the speaker and the twenty-five uniformed soldiers who formed a half circle around me to the immense crowd that filled the theater the applause for Vive l'America was spontaneous. I also sang Annie Laurie, the favorite song of every soldier who fought in '61, a song which was on the dying lips of hundreds of soldiers who fell fighting and thinking of their loved ones at home. Can you wonder at the tears coming to the eyes of our veterans when the strain is sung And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me down and dee. I sing this song with all the sincere feeling and personality that I possess. It is a sacred song to me for I have heard the story many times as told by the veterans since the war. After this final tribute of my career The Oakland Herald had this to say next day: "The beautiful simplicity of Mrs. Blake-Alverson's singing provoked tremendous applause and she responded to the never-to-be-forgotten lines of Annie Laurie." The Enquirer said: "The singing of Mrs. Blake-Alverson was a revelation. It was enjoyed to the utmost. Every note rang clear and pure and each stanza was applauded in a most hearty manner. This was especially true of her rendition of the Star Spangled Banner in which the enthusiasm was unbounded." The effect of the song was heightened by the giving of the ceremony of retreat at sunset which is carried out in every camp and garrison of the army of the United States. The ceremony was conducted by members of Co. A, Fifth Infantry, N.G.C., under the charge of Sergeant Breveton and were as follows: Sergeant A. H. Jones, Sergeant H.B. Ongerth, Musician J.W. Stock, Musician E.J. Dow, Privates Elmer Marsh, F. Keegan, J.C. Bowden, R.L. Nichols, H.B. Loveridge, H. Bond, R. Trethaway.

In a letter to the editor of the Enquirer John Aubrey Jones said: "What an inspiration it was to see and hear Mrs. Blake-Alverson sing. Physically infirm, but vocally strong and pregnant, her pure, limpid birdlike notes thrilled and stirred the soul and tears to the eyes did unbidden come. It was eloquence sublime set to the all-subdivining rhythmical harmony of divine music, rendered by a master whose spirit was enwrapped. The writer felt an uplift in patriotic fervor that was a joyous inspiration and so doubtless did all whose privilege it was to hear and see Mrs. Blake-Alverson sing."

The Oakland Tribune said: "The singing of the Star Spangled Banner by Mrs. Blake Alverson and the oration delivered by Rev. Charles R. Brown proved the chief features of the Fourth of July celebration held in the Macdonough theater yesterday morning. Judge E.M. Gibson presided. Prayer was by Rabbi M. Friedlander. A chorus from Faust by seventy-five singers followed. The Declaration of Independence was read by Attorney Peter J. Crosby. Next Mrs. Blake-Alverson stepped forward upon the stage and reached the flag-draped table surrounded by twenty-five uniformed soldiers, who separated in the center to allow her to approach, then closed as she passed, amid applause which was deafening, and she could do nothing but bow her acknowledgment to the audience. As she sang Vive l'America, in spite of her years, her voice rang out pure and clear. Again and again she was forced to respond to encores and when Judge Gibson finally led her off the stage she was repeatedly cheered."

I do not think I would have done quite so well had it not been for an incident that happened as I stepped upon the stage. When I saw the immense crowd my heart gave one throb and I thought I had made a mistake coming there at my age to sing. Like an electric flash I took in the situation and said within me, "Dear Lord, help me once more," and in answering to the repeated cheers I glanced downward to the men in the orchestra and to my surprise saw their looks of sarcasm as if to say, "What can that old woman do?" In one instant my patriotic spirit was roused within me and I gave them a look of defiance and said within myself, "I'll show you boys what she can do," and nodded to the pianist to begin. It took just one line of Vive l'America to make them sit up and take notice. Every eye was turned upon me, the leader sat back in his chair and folded his arms and never moved only to applaud with all the rest between each stanza and continued to do so until the song was completed, and then I received a rally from all, tributes of flowers and tri-colored ribbons floating in graceful loops from them. I responded with Annie Laurie, and the perfect attention with which it was received was most affecting, and I was fully repaid for my efforts, old as I was. I had won the battle nobly and to the people of Oakland I give my heartfelt thankfulness for their appreciation of my efforts to please them in legitimate song and show my loyalty. More honors awaited me at the close of the exercises. As I stepped from my dressing room there awaited me many prominent men and women who came back of the stage to greet me and take my hand. Among them were Rabbi Friedlander, Major Sherman, Alfred Wilkie, Judge Gibson, Rev. Dr. Brown, members of the different committees, unknown to me. About thirty minutes later, when I left for my carriage, I found to my surprise that the sidewalk in front of the theater was crowded with men, women and children, awaiting my coming. It was with difficulty that I reached my carriage. I must needs take the hands of these well-pleased people who wished to thank me. Through the efforts of Mr. John T. Bell I entered the carriage and was driven to the Hotel Touraine, where a banquet had been prepared. When I arrived the committee and members of the chorus were seated at the tables. I was escorted to the table at the end of the hall, decorated with blossoms, flags and streamers and twelve uniformed soldiers standing guard. During the banquet the band played patriotic airs and afterward there were short speeches by prominent men. At the close of the banquet the master of ceremonies asked the assemblage to rise and give a tribute of three cheers for Mrs. Blake-Alverson, the patriotic singer of Oakland. This was given with a will and the band played America in which we all joined. With this song the celebration was over and my career as a public singer for sixty-five years for the people of California in the Golden State by the Golden Gate of the Far West, the grandest state of all the galaxy of states, was ended.



While this closed my public life, as far as these holiday observances went, I did not give up my music altogether, as I had no other way to support myself and was still in possession of my voice and my ability to teach was established. I went right on in the even tenor of my way and did what I could toward making it possible for my pupils to take a place with those who had succeeded in the beautiful art of music and song. I had now taught in Oakland fifteen years and felt no uneasiness as to the result, so I went bravely on doing what I could. My friends, the soldiers of the G.A.R., felt their memorials and installations were not complete without their Daughter of the Regiment who had never denied them since 1861. Persons make a mistake who think they cannot do much if they fail in the great achievements of life, but I contend that the small things are not to be despised. I shall not be able to put one-sixteenth part of my engagements in this book, but I will illustrate with the G.A.R. and tell how often I have sung for that organization alone. The reader will then realize the amount of work I have done for churches, fraternal societies, missions, art classes, sewing classes, functions of all kinds, club functions, singing classes, holiday festivals, assistance to the young people of the societies and Sunday schools of the churches with which I was identified, guilds, charitable institutions and private affairs. Had I not kept a diary for all these years I never would have known the vast amount of work a person could do in a short life.

From 1861 until 1864 I did not keep a diary, but saved programmes of special events. When the war started we were constantly doing something for the soldiers. I will tell of an episode which convinced me that the power of song is more lasting than we realize. When the wounded men were brought home to the hospitals the different church choirs were sent to sing for the sick and the dying, and at the funerals. It seemed that each Sabbath afternoon I was administering to the needs of the sick and wounded men. In 1862 I returned to California and lived in Santa Cruz, San Francisco, Stockton and Oakland. I was the honored guest of the Appomattox Post, Captain Thomas commanding, on April 26, 1894. It was the yearly visit to inspect the Old Soldiers' Home at Yountville. Mr. Arbuckle and many of the officers of the G.A.R. were in the party. I was to give the old veterans some of the old melodies they loved. We had a full quartette of musical people from the different posts, and when we arrived the large hall was filled with the veterans. When my name was called upon the programme it was impossible to begin until they had given vent to their enthusiasm. I was in excellent voice and with my patriotic spirit stirred I sang with a determined will to please once again, and I certainly received a full return of appreciation.

After the concert a reception was held and I greeted them all as they passed in file, and shook hands and received their expressions of pleasure for my songs. After an excellent luncheon we inspected the new kitchen and dining hall recently completed. One of the women, Mrs. Sarah Markwert, and myself inspected the new kitchen and we came to where one of the old veterans was washing the dishes. I said to my friend, "Well, this is splendid, no one need mind washing dishes with all these conveniences." At that moment the old man turned around and with his hands in the dish water said to me, "Shure it's a many a long day since I saw your face." I looked at him in astonishment and said, "My dear comrade, where have I seen you before?" "Shure I was a sorry looking man when you saw me in the hospital in Massachusetts as helpless as a babe." "My dear sir, do you still remember me?" "Do we forget the angels when once they visit us?" Then he went on with his story until he brought the picture back to me as if it were yesterday. Truly I was convinced of the power of song. He had listened to me when sick and wounded and as his mind went back to the days of '61 he still remembered the face and the singer and the song. After bidding him good-bye and thanking him for his long remembrance of me, I turned thoughtfully away. As we came upon the porch of the hospital I passed a middle aged man and I nodded pleasantly and passed him by. As I passed he said, "Are you going to forget your old postman of 120 Charles street, Boston?" I could not reply for a moment, and I looked at him and said, "Are you Charles Blake?" He said, "I am." "What are you doing here, are all the Eastern soldiers here in this place?" "No," he replied, "Only two or three of us." "I was speaking to one just now in the kitchen who remembered me." "Oh, yes, Patrick, he was in the same place I was." "How did you happen to come here?" I asked him. "My letter pouch became too heavy for me to carry and I asked to be sent here, and I expect to remain the rest of my life." Truly, wonders will never cease, said I, as we left him and went to the sick room. There we saw rows of beds all occupied except three or four. At the head of the stairs we stopped to speak to the old veteran and inquired of his health. He said, "My days are short and I am ready to go at any time now." I said, "You were unable to hear the music today?" "Yes," he said, "I thought once or twice I could catch a sound of it, but I could not tell." I asked him if he liked music and he said, "Very much, and I wanted to hear the singer today for I had heard her sing before I got bedridden, when she was a young woman, and I was so sorry to have missed it." I said, "What song would you like best to hear, now that you are sick, if you could hear anyone sing?" "The song I have in my mind now is Nearer, My God, to Thee." I took his wasted hand in mine and stood at the head of his bed and sang to him and to all the sick in the ward. After I had finished a silence was o'er all, save a sob or two from those who were deeply affected by the song. The nurse approached and asked me if I would sing Rock of Ages for one veteran who was lying at the other end of the ward. I complied and when I had finished these poor afflicted men wanted to thank me, so I passed from one bed to another and said a parting word to each, and as I passed the bed of the old dying man, on my return, he said with tears, "I shall not forget the song or the singer. The memory of both will go with me to the gates of Paradise. I'll not forget, good-bye." He lingered for another week, they told me, and his last words were from the hymn, Nearer, My God, to Thee.

I have felt it my sacred duty to always answer the call of the soldier. It began in 1861 and has always been listened to by me since. I have sung at many exercises, at the Memorial exercises, which began in 1880, I sang for the George Thomas Post. On January 18, 1885, I was at the installation of post officers. Memorial day of that year I sang at the Metropolitan hall, San Francisco. In 1886 I sang in the same auditorium, which was packed, and I sang there again in 1887. In 1888 I sang for the W.R. Cornman Post, No. 57, San Bernardino. On January 5, 1889, installation exercises, and on January 30, 1889, G.A.R. camp fire for veterans, I sang at San Bernardino. Returning to San Francisco, I sang at the installation exercises in May, 1889, on Memorial Day. On September 3, George Thomas Post concert in aid of veterans' families. In 1890 I sang at the Sabbath service in the Methodist Church for veterans. On May 30, Congregational Church, Oakland, to a great congregation. Music was furnished by thirty picked voices. Alfred Wilkie sang the Sword of Bunker Hill; Vive l'America, and Tender and True were sung next. As Captain Thomas remarked, this song was sung by the same singer in 1861, twenty-nine years before, when the war was on, and once again to commemorate the brave who died. On March 6, 1894, I participated at a grand rally and musical of Lyon post and corps. On March 15, at Appomattox corps and post concert; April 23, G.A.R. reception, Congregational Church, Edwin C. Seymour and General W.H.L. Barnes, speakers, Mrs. Blake-Alverson, vocalist. On April 24, reception of G.A.R. at Mills Tabernacle, Governor Markham and staff present. The building was densely crowded and the enthusiasm was marked. The band played the national anthems. I sang the Star Spangled Banner and Annie Laurie amid the cheers and tremendous applause of veterans and others present. On April 26 the Yountville yearly visit to the Soldiers' Home was made by the Appomattox posts and a concert was given and a general inspection of the home was held. On May 8, 9, and 22 were days of receptions and entertainments to raise funds. On May 30 I sang in the Methodist Church, Berkeley. On June 14 I sang at the tenth anniversary of Appomattox Post and on June 15 anniversary of Lyon Corps and banquet. On July 19 I sang at reception of G.A.R. officers and their families who had assembled from other California cities and the East. August 6, September 1, 4, 22, Admiral Porter Post No. 169, Lyon Post, Cole. E.D., Baker Camp No. 5; October 25, National Guard of California; November 16, Flags of all Nations concert; December 11, Lyon Corps entertainment. In 1895, January 3, 8, March 13, May 30, July 4, July 9, 31, September 11, November 13, were days of installation, memorials, processions of importance, bazaars and concerts. In all I participated.



In 1896, January 28, May 30 and 31, June 20, reception to General-in-Chief Lawlor, G.A.R., were days to be remembered, but of July 7 I must make special mention, as it was an honor that can only come once to a singer. It was the golden jubilee of the flag-raising at Monterey fifty years before, a scene of patriotic enthusiasm in which I, with other patriotic people, participated. Through Major Edwin Sherman, head of the arrangements committee, I was engaged to assist in the demonstration. I had a previous engagement with Frank Gilder at Santa Cruz for his concert a day or two before the flag raising. When I arrived at Monterey I was met by Major Sherman, wife and party and escorted to the hotel. After dinner the evening was spent with rehearsals and completing the arrangement for the morning's exercises. The day of July 7 was ideal, the air was mild and the sun came out in all of its splendor and the streets were alive with people who were assembling already in preparation for this great jubilee. The procession started promptly at 10 o'clock and passed through the principal streets of the city. Veterans of the Mexican war, sailors from the battleships that lay in the harbor, United States soldiers were in line. Many appropriate emblems, floats, and bands of music followed. School children symbolizing the American flag presented a feature never to be forgotten.

Across from the first custom house a large platform had been erected and upon this platform all the performers for the occasion were placed. At the top the children were grouped to form the flag, a most novel and beautiful sight. The officers of the day, Mexican veterans, musicians and speakers occupied the lower platform. The old custom house opposite, with its high flag pole, the two armored cruisers lying in the bay, the escort of hundreds of sailors from the ships made a never-to-be-forgotten scene. At the appropriate moment William P. Toler, the man who fifty years before raised the flag upon the same pole, amid cheers from the multitude descended from the platform and made his way through the crowd and ranks of the naval battalion to where Lieutenant Roper of the Monadnock stood. He escorted Mr. Toler to the northwest corner of the old custom house, beneath the staff, while the quartermaster of the Philadelphia bent the American flag on to the halyards which were placed in Mr. Toler's hand. At this point Major Sherman called for three cheers for Old Glory and Mr. Toler, with all the energy of his youth and his eyes sparkling with pride and patriotic fire, grasped the rope (but the halyards were stiffened) and after an adjustment of the difficulty the flag soon reached the masthead and was spread out to the breeze. Then occurred a scene not often witnessed. The people went wild at the beautiful sight. Hats and handkerchiefs went flying into the air. All reserve of these military men was forgotten in the moment of patriotic enthusiasm. The two battleships anchored in the bay puffed forth the smoke from the cannon's mouth. The air was filled with a riot of sounds from the crash of guns, multiplying the echoes rising above the strains of the Star Spangled Banner. It was a touching sight to see the veterans of war behave like boys let loose from school, the children clapping their hands, Queen California with her maids of honor upon her throne waving handkerchiefs. The sailors stood at attention throughout this demonstration, but when Mr. Toler turned to ascend the platform they seized him and bore him triumphantly to the grandstand amid shouts and huzzas for the midshipmate of fifty years ago. After the excitement was over he bade them all farewell. This was the last public appearance of Mr. Toler. He passed away the following year.

Upon the platform were gathered a number of notable men. Major Sherman was orator of the day and the ruling spirit of this patriotic gathering. Admiral L.A. Beardslee, U.S.N., retired, was the honored guest and spoke with patriotic fervor on this occasion of the laying of the corner stone of the Sloat monument and flag-raising. After the address of Major Sherman the girls of the living flag sang with splendid effect the Star Spangled Banner. Mrs. Eliza A. Pittsinger eloquently recited an original poem written for l'America by myself, with full spirit of patriotic fire and sweetness of song, which was roundly applauded. At the close I brought forth a small American flag, which created the greatest enthusiasm and responded with Old Glory, Flag of Liberty. It was some time before I was allowed to retire.

Hon. H.C. Gesford, grand president of Native Sons of the Golden West, followed with a telling speech; the Hon. Niles Searles, vice-president of the California Pioneers, made a short and witty speech, after which the multitude joined in the anthem of America. Rev. O.E. Edmonson, chaplain of the U.S. flagship Philadelphia, pronounced the benediction and the great celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the taking of California and raising of the American flag at Monterey by Commodore Sloat was ended and his honored fame gloriously vindicated.

My next work for the Grand Army was at an entertainment, July 14, 1896. I was asked to speak on the theme of Old Glory. I made my first speech in public with Judge E.M. Gibson, Mr. Arbuckle and others who were veterans on the speaking platform. In 1897 I sang at Memorial Day exercises; May 28, Lincoln's memorial; December 14, Lyon Corps fete of all nations closed the engagements of this year, with the addition of many dollars finding their way into the depleted treasury. In 1898 Memorial Day was the first of the varied performances of the year; June 25 was another departure from the regular things that took place in the G.A.R. needs. About eight or nine of the patriotic women, myself and four other singers of the different corps, went to visit the boys enlisted for the Spanish-American war and staying at Camp Merritt at the Presidio. They were awaiting the call to the Philippines. We arrived in camp about four o'clock in the afternoon and visited the different divisions and chatted with the soldiers until eight o'clock, when we were due at the tent where Captain Sloat was quartered, and his fine boys of San Bernardino, Cal.

We assisted the boys in their songs and listened to the remarks by able men and women until nine o'clock, when Captain Sloat addressed his men and called upon me to tell the boys of our work in 1861—a new departure for me. I generally sang my patriotism, but this time it took the form of a recital of events for about fifteen minutes, and was listened to with the greatest attention. I told them of the dying soldiers who passed away with the song of Annie Laurie on their lips. Afterwards I sang it for them and gave them other songs. At the close of my work Capt. Sloat made me an offering in the name of his men of the most beautiful tribute of roses and ferns, contributed by the individual members. I received their tribute with heartfelt gratitude and appreciation. We were served with refreshments by the hospitable women of the Red Cross before returning to the city. Taps sounded at ten o'clock and we departed for our homes. October 11, 21, 24 finished the entertainments for the year 1898. In 1899, January 5, the installation of Appomattox Post and corps took place, followed on February 21 with a grand reception of veterans and newly elected officers and their wives. A musical program was provided as usual. On May 30 the Memorial services were held in the Methodist Church with suitable programme. On July 11 and 29 the Relief Corps had the usual entertainment for friends. On September 3 memorial exercises for soldiers who fell in the Philippine war were held. Nothing special occurred in 1900 until Memorial Day, which was celebrated by befitting exercises. On June 19 the Lyon Corps had an extra entertainment. On June 23 the grand McKinley demonstration, San Francisco, closed the engagements of the year 1900. I did not sing again for the G.A.R. until 1903, because of my accident. On March 31, 1903, Lyon Post, as a special request, needed my services. On August 21 and December 15, they celebrated Veterans' Day, Lyon Post installation. On May 12, 1904, Captain Stillwell wanted the boys to have patriotic singing in their armory opening, and asked me to sing for them Vive l'America. This entertainment and Memorial Day, May 31, closed my work for this year. 1905 began with the Lyon Corps and Post installation. On Memorial Day I sang in the Congregational Church. As I sang The Offering of Flowers I quietly placed a wreath of roses over the spear of the flag, as it projected in front of me in the gallery over the pulpit, and in an instant the audience rose to their feet in silent appreciation for my tribute to the dead, comrades knowing my inability to go to the cemetery for the services there. At the close of the services, before I could leave my place in the gallery, many G.A.R. officers and strangers paid their affectionate tributes of praise for my services of song and honor to the dead. Once more I was urged to sing at the Macdonough theater on the Fourth of July of that year, and I received a most enthusiastic reception from the public. The banquet of Lyon Corps for the post, July 11, and the memorial services of post and corps for the annual deaths closed this year's services. I supposed this would be my last public appearance, but in 1906 I was needed at the installation as usual, and on the Fourth of July at the Macdonough theater. In 1907 I sang at a special reception to veterans and department officers of California and their wives. Judge Dibble was most eloquent in his address, which was enthusiastically received by the veterans. On July 31 and August 20 I closed my G.A.R. work for the year. In 1908 I sang on two occasions, and in 1909 I sang at the Bay School for Mr. Crawford, taking a quartette with me. We gave the children some of the old songs for the inspiration of their patriotic spirit. They in return gave us the "Red, White and Blue" with splendid effect, led by Mr. Crawford, who is a patriotic spirit among the young in the schools of California. On July 8 and November 30 closed the engagements for 1910 and 1911, up to May 30, 1912. How many more times I shall be able to help the Boys in Blue I do not know, but as long as I have a musical note left it shall be to serve them.