The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1888-01-31
THE MUSICAL MAN.
nae Kind of Person Tor the Gu

The Kind of Person for the Guitar.
Ne,o York Letter to the San Francisco ArgonGm
1t is the fashion just at present for men 60
be musical. The boy-about-town who can't
play on something or sing something must
take back seat He must retire from the
noble army of boys" and become mere,
commonplace, ordinary young man in
! square-toed shoes and reach-me-down coat
| 70 be unable to play on some instrument is
! to be insignificant andof no account The
| Apollo Belvidere may be cut out by little
! five-foot-and-a half clerk who can twang on
| the guitar or pick on the banjo. The guitar
| is at present at the apex OF popular favor.
| But the art of playing on it, like the art OF
| becoming great scoundrel, is not awarded
| to the first conner. The successful guitar
player must have certain attributes. For ex
! ample, man with blonde hair and blue eyes
must not play the guitar; nor man with
| large capable-oOSing hands; nor again,
| big, red, brawny man; nor man who
wears checks and smokes pipe. Your
| guitar-man can smoke Russian cigarettes,
and he must have large, soft, melancholy,
| dark eyes, and black mouStache that
| droops-if his moustache turns up at the
ends he can play on the French horn, the
! trombone, the cornet, the Jews harp, the
| drum, even-but never on the guitar. The
elegant fitness of things must be recognized
and preserved. Then he must have small,
| delicate brown hands, and small, neatly
| shod feet and in his clothes must avoid all
| checks, all tendency to light colors and Eng
| lish cuts.
AS may be imagined, guitar men rerafe.
But there are a few, and they are now as
much sought after as Montague and
| Rignold used to be. They are asked every
where, and are always expected TO bring
the guitar. In fact, their position is about
the same as that of a professionai-except
| that they are not paid. Summer is their
harvest-time No moonlight boating-party
is complete without them. As the boats lie
! to. rocking languidly on the shining swellS,
! the guitar man is called upon, From amid
the cushions beside him-for he always has
| the best seat and the prettiest girl-he draws
| forth his guitar in richly embroidered
| case. hangs it round his neck by yellow
| ribbon, Just tue proper shade to accentuate
| the rich olive tone of his complexion, runs
! his slender fingers over the strings, and the
| thin slVery notes vibrate on the still air
| He has a large repertoire tender, passionate
| Spanish serenades and love songs, heard by
some musical itinerary beneath the dark
| shadows of olive groves, IN long, Spanish
| UwilightS the rich, melancholy cadences OF
! the beating-songs of the Venetian gondoIiers,
! transmitted to this country in the SANE
way; the dashing, gay barcarolles of the
! Neapolitan fishermen, throbbing with the
| fire and color of the South a simple shy
| German ballad or two; frivolous, dainty,
| French chansonette-he knows them all
| And if he has any sort of voice ne will
sing them. Hear soft, rich, man 5 voice
sing a transpostion for the guitar of
| ScLubert's ''Serenade." on a white, moon
| light night-then die!
| His guitar is in as much demand in winter.
! All fashionable "hausfrauenn have artistic
bits in their houses now. There is always
some corner where the colors are melodies,
where the divan is deep and soft. where the
bric-a-brac is placed with judicious hand,
where the dropping portiere Is thick, and
warm. and richly -hued, where the light falls
warmly through the lamps red shade and
| the air is filled with the scent of ''violets
dim as the lids of Juno's eyes" in twisted
spirals of brown, Venetian glass. This is
the place for the guitar man, He eschews
the white and gold room, which. with its
| nadded white satin walls, Splndle-legged
white and gold chairs, pompaduur cabinets,
and bare, polished floor, is now part OF
every New Cork house. For he is man
of artistic perceptions and KNOWS his black
| coat and shirt bosom will not show up well
against those pallid, tufted walls. He can't
| bear the MUSHROOM, with It's great convex
ceiling and bare wooden floor. he goes
| straight for the coZy corner. There, lounS-
| ing among the billowing cushions. be draws
out his guitar, hangs the yellow ribbon
round his heck, and with his dark eyes
rolled up ard his claw-like fingers at the
| strings. he MARBLES in soft, throbblng voice,
''The Lips Of My Pepita."
The man who plays the banjo Is an old
favorite but the guitar man has rather cut
him out Still, in some unromantlc feminine
hearts the banjo reigns supreme. There is
something contagiously jolly about banjo
men. They are not particular; they are
| oeneral-utility men, who will play anything
| anywhere. Most of them play by ear, and
| n week after a new operetta is produced
have all the airs at their finger ends. They
! con sing "Erminien from first to last; and
there is not college song, from that ex-
hilarating, staggering, Bohemian Tavern
in the Town to the sentimental over the
Ranisters.n that they don't know every verse
of. At children'S party your banjo man
will sing "HIsh, Little Baby" or the ever
iovial Scrub, My Mother" to the JOY of
the children: and after a massive dinner
nartv will give you the "Ole Kentucky
Home. ~ with perfect negro accent and ex-
presson, in a way to melt heart of stone
Then there are men who play their own
accompaniments to comic songs. This is
an English fashion, and II not done well is
sad The performers talents are shown IN
choice of songs, most comic songs being Of
melancholy tendency. At last, and
deci1edlv least. there is the man who
whistles There is an Englishman now in
New York who ''whistled before the Queen"
He sits at the piano, plays light waltz,
and whistles the air delightfully."- with
bird-like brilliancy. Elaborate dance.
,,,rsic is the forte of this newest type Of
musical man. The palieb III fausJ the
famous ballet of the Hours in the Clio
conda. nthe nuns dance in Robert le Diable,"
hits of "Sylvia" and "Coppelia" are his
| ,,iacas de resistance