The New Orleans daily Democrat. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1877-1880, 1879-08-16
ORGAN GRINDERS.

Another O1d-Time Tradition Lost in
the Dimness Of the Past.
One by one the traditions OF the past fade
away and get lost In the msts and the gloam-
Ing of advancing time The organ grinders
are not an exception to this rule, and the
wheel Of fate, which cannot move without
crushing some one, has passed over the cheap
musicians OF Auld Lang Syne and obliterated
| them forever. 1t Is true that we still have Or
gans, but what Is their music without Its mise
On scene" without Its natural surroundings,
| the Italian and the monkey? In the palmy
| days OF New Orleans, when organ grinding
was feature, we might even say an art, 1t
was tactly understood that none but the
swarthy and mustachioed sons of Italy could
properly turn the handle 80 as to grind sweet
| music for the delight of small children and
fond parents. None but the music breathing
Italian was recognized as being capable OF
| crank and no monkey would have disgraced
himself by cutting capers and going through
the motions like soldier for any but an exile
from Rome, Tuscany or the beautiful plains
these masters OF an art now lost to
the universe. wore on their brows
the natural sign of noble ancestry,
for no one can deny that most OF our ancient
Or princes. Some enterprising Parisians
would now and then go into the business,
and as the true Partisan has a wonderful
power Of adaptability which enables him to
United States, Gar Of Russia or Count in
Italy, several OF them succeeded and con |
quered position In the craft. We remember |
one OF these; he was known under the name |
OF La Misere,' and rapidly attained enor
nous popularity by the melodious turn he
gave to his crank, the desnvoItura of his |
grace Of his monkey: 49, with talent
and economy La Misere managed,
comfortable sum Of $4,000. Then 1t was that,
like the fallen angel, his wild aspirations
caused his ruin. He went back upon his art,
no trampled upon his household gods, he
sold his organ, the maker OF his fortune, and
Nemesis pursued him. An artist Is confiding.
He trusted his neighbors, and corner grocer
who trusts is q lost man. La Misere' Is now
q broken man; his grocery store has melted
into nOthingness. and his assets are composed
of uncollectible bills for eatables long ago
digested and never to be paid for We sym
pathze with LA Misere," and IL we could
81, low enough money we would help him
! Judgment upon the artist who Is reereant to
nis calling and abandoIg fIe "lVlniVy lor com
nonplace mercantile pursuits.
But we have digtassed TOO rnuch. Our in
tention was simply to mourn over the fact
hat organ grinding as an art has disappeared,
gone glimmering, so to speak, like spruce ,
Deer, which Is no more to be found. All the
delicious spruce beer of our youthful days,
Kept cool in water bucket under the shade
II corner fence and served by the glossy
black hands Of real negress with red green
md yellow bandana artistically tied on her
lead, and giving additional lustre to her
,oal black, goOd-natured face. Spruce beer Is
gone! Gone with our youth; gone with the
poetry that surrounded organ grinding and
monkey shows; crushed down under the
cruel steps of iron-booted civilization and de-
soured by that monster called progress
Well
What isgone is gone forever, and new fashions
May replace old forms which nothing can re-
store"
The italian organ grinder is dead, and
eeble effort to resuscitate him is being made
~ the imam and brother" Our meagre pop
llation has gone into the business, but they
cannot make success Of 1t. We feel it. The
are not with them, and the more
We think OF 1t the more We feel like Owen
Meredith
And we turn from signing back departed pas
sions
With that pining at he bosom rs of yore.'