Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1886-04-03
THE COWBOY PIANIST.

THE COWBOY PIANIST.
The Barbaric wonder Who is Astonishing
Now Workers.
Nym Crinkle in New York World.
The reflex wave OF barbarism never
threw upon our city anything more as
'tonishing than our Cowboy Pianist, y
I saw him on Union Square the other
morning, accompanied by his agent. He
had on the regulation hat, all brim; his
shirt was open at the throat. He was Of
tint between mahogany and boarding
house coffee. He had Come to New
York to show us how to play the pianner,
OF which instrument his agent said he
was an ''e1ecutioner."
Now, if I had not seen this order Of
phenomenon before, I should not have
taken any stock in his strange story.
He was not the order Of man to excite
musical interest. I should as soon have
looked for frankincense in Greenpoint as
for art in that brawny, stolid face. His
agent Mr.. Pike, said they hadn't found
any pianner players here yet, and they'd
been a-looking for 'em. He'd heard
there'd been Teller by the name of Rub
instein here who could play, and they
were sorry they hadn't met him.
This innocent confidence amused me.
I looked the champion over. His legs
had the bow that legs will get that have
been hugging pony for years. His
eye had a subtle reach as eyes will have
that look upon the sun. He wasn't re-
fined He wasn't diplomatic. Hewasn't
enven communicative. But he was Will
ingly to try the issues with any of our
pianists. don't think any of them
cared to measure fingers with him. We
tried to find Mills. We went up to Pat
tison's. They seemed to be hiding away.
There was quite group OF us. Scep-
tical, just a triAe cynical, don't you
know, on the other edge Of safety where
the cowboy couldn't exactly see it. We
wanted to see him stampede the masters,
round up the virtuosi and scalp Beetho-
ven. To ride concert grand with spurs
would be a good lark. We were SO
tired of seeing the instrument treated
like Mary's lamb.
Well we got him an instrument. We
formed a ring. There was Darling, Tom
McDoneugh, Caxauran, Pike, Wolver-
ton, who knows the nocturnes backward,
and-well, never mind the other, he wss
incog; but he's the best bravura player
that you can pick up on Fourteenth
street.
The cowboy sat down at the instru-
ment and put his hands on it. He
ran his fingers over the keys. The ex-
pert cooked bis ears. He was feeling of
them preliminarily with soft, rapid
touch in long, rapid, clean run. Then
he struck the piano and dashed off into
a wild romanza. Nobody laughed.
Wolverton's eyes stuck out. Cazauran
Cowboy be blowed! That's
no Cowboy
For force and rapidity of stroke I
hadn't heard anything exactly like it.
Even that phenomenal Harry SandersoD
could not have pounded octaves with
greater wrist celebrity than this. His
right hand was marvel. He wove ro-
mama, ballad, polka, waltz, and nocturne
into one brilliant pravura. The upper
notes screamed. Shade of Gottschalk
and memory of Thalberg! Where did
this heather come from?
I'll tell you presently. First, let me
say that we put thin cloth over the key
board and he played through it. I took
MS hand and placed the fingers on anoth-
er key, Transporting the melody he was
playing, and he went on in the new key;
md he does not know note; never heard
/ composition of Chopin's; plays by ear;
never had lesson in his life; hasn't been
,ut of the saddle twelvemonth.
Is he an artist? No, far from it. Some
,ne had played him sonata of Beetho-
ems. He tried to repeat it, and turned /
t into romanza. He couldn't resolve
t. Beethoven never made those harmo-
lies. But he caught the melody and
he wild transcript was executed with
of his own that was marvellous.
l tried to talk music to him and found
le was incapable of either understanding
ne or replying to me. Heknew nothing
It all about the art.
But he could play, all the same.
Here is his story, strange enough, and
laively told, with no apparent effort to
leceive: II was brought up on RANCH"
aid he, mot far from the edge of the
indian territory. Ny mother was Cas-
ilian and my father a German. They
new nothing whatever of music. But
When I was about eighteen years old,
he old man bought an old Chickering
piano of party of emigrants. He gave
welve bushels of corn for it, because, he
aid, it would make good iron table for
he old woman. It was put in a corner
If the one room, and she used it to cut
,ur clothes on. When it was not used
t was generally covered with harness
md potatoes. I never saw it opened.
)ne day, when I was about twenty -one,
started down with lot of the boys to
20 on roundup We had to ride sixty
niles, and we stopped at an old mans
bout half way and all got full. You
now what the boys are out there,
About three in the morning I started
With my pard, to go on, but 1 was so full
hat my pony threw me. He got his
DOT in gopher bole. I fell off and
,roke my arm in two places. They had
o take me back and then go up to Fort
sill, sixty miles for a surgeon to set my
I'm. was laid up for six months.
lne daY had a shock. I didn't know