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THE COMPOSER AT WORK. His composition is taken down by the recorder, which is in the closet behind the piano. at the rear of the piano connects an electric litfht current with the dynamo which operates the recorder.
He may add, for your edifica- a piano, but do it so faithfully tion, that many of the ablest and accurately that not a single minds in the commercial field of eccentricity of the pianist's inmusic have been turned to the dividuality would be lost, the resolution of this problem—that spectful attention of the musical of devising a means for the mak- world was immediately forthing of music that shall be an coming. actual and permanent record of Naturally there were many a performance,
skeptics — men instead of a
who desired to mere musical
be shown. One score, and have
of these was a pronounced it
pianist and an impossibil
composer of ity.
international There is a
reputation. man in Chi
"Of course. cago, however,
Clark,” he said. Melville Clark,
when told of for whom the
the new invenword impossi
tion. “I know ble has never
you have acheld terrors.
complished So he quietly
wonders in set to work a
your line. But couple of years
in this case ago, convinced
your claims in his own
sound, ah,” mind that he
· "Preposterwould succeed
ous ?" said Mr. where others
Clark. “Sure! had failed. Mr.
I don't blame Clark is gener
you at all for ally acknowl
thinking so. edged to be
But just come one of the
along to my greatest de
office and see signers and MELVILLE CLARK.
for yourself.” builders of His invention enables musicians to record Together pia nos and
they repaired piano players
to Mr. Clark's in the world. He was the first to private office, where a piano was build a piano player to operate in readiness. In one corner of over the entire keyboard.
the room stood a little closet. Consequently when he an- The pianist also noticed that a nounced a short time ago that wire ran from the electric light he had perfected a device which fixture in the middle of the room would not only make a perma- into the closet. nent record of a performance on “Just a moment,” said Mr.
test the instrument to the limit of its capabilities he improvised a selection as fiery and brilliant as a thunderstorm.
When he had finished, Mr. Clark went into the closet and returned with a roll of paper, similar in appearance to those used on piano players. Placing the roll in another piano with a reproducing- attachment, he set the reproducer in motion with his feet.
The effect was startling. The exactness of the record—even to the cunningly introduced "accidentals"— made the very presence of the composer at the piano seem a certainty. His tempo, his style, his pedaling, the power of his stroke on the keys, and the sensuous element—the expression—were reproduced in such an accurate way that the mechanism seemed to be endowed with a human mind.
The operation of Mr. Clark's device—which he calls a recorder—may best be explained in the simple statement that the pressure of a button, turning on the electric current, sensitizes every playing part of the piano—keys, pedals, and all—to the slightest touch of the performer, and secures in perfect relation every playing movement made.
While the importance of this achievement in the field of the mechanical player can be readily appreciated, its influence upon the development of musical history represents its chief value. It is from this standpoint that it appeals most to its inventor. He
frankly states that he does not think it has commercial value.
To be able to sit down at the piano, imprint one's individuality in all its phases upon the interpretation of any given musical composition, have the music so produced cut, and then to use it on a piano player and hear oneself play, certainly seems the fulfilment of the composer's wildest dream.
But that is not all. The recorder relieves the composer of the manual drudgery of putting his thoughts down on paper with pen or pencil. Also, it enables him to preserve the continuity of his thoughts, which is difficult when he is forced to stop to jot down his composition.
She—"I am sure there arc many girls who could make you happier than I could."
He—"That's just the difficulty; they could, but they won't."—Boston Transcript.
The Real Reason
"may I ask," inquires the interviewer, "why you paint none but nudes?"
"Certainly," replies the painter. "The styles change so rapidly in clothing that a picture would be out of date almost before the paint is dry."—Chicago Post.
Hans Schmidt, proprietor of a western Minnesota sawmill, used for fuel the sawdust from the lumber. It cost him nothing, but it kept four men busy shoveling it. Recently he was persuaded to put in new equipment which would reduce the amount of fuel one half.
After the machinery had been installed the agent called, expecting to be congratulated. But the German eyed him gloomily.
"What's the matter, Mr. Schmidt? Doesn't the new plant do all I claimed?" he asked.
"Ya; but I oberlooks sometings," replied Hans.
"What was that?"
"Veil, it dakes only dwo mens to handle de fuel, but it dakes de udder dwo mens to haul avay vat ve don't use, und a team, pesides."— The Hampton Magazine.