Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-04-27

THOSE were good old days-the gentle
and tender years marked by an utter
lack of consideration for the neighbors-
when "Uncle Joe" Cannon, known at one
time as the Gar of the House of Represen-
tatives, sat on the banks of the Wabash far
away and tore the heart right out of that
complicated and stubborn musical instru-
ment known as the jewsharp. There were
other good old days-those lovely years en-
phasized by the country's conviction that
every town should have a brass band, and
make the trumpeting that knocked down
the walls of Jericho sound like whisper
when Senator Albert B. Cummins of Iowa
blew his soul right through all the complex
mechanism of a cornet.
With these preliminary remarks to bear
us out, we rise to remark that not every
musician is necessarily long haired and short
witted with flowing necktie and an acute
congestion of commonsense. There have
been and are in the national capital today
some of the nations mightiest men, who
hammer grand pianos into quivering spasrns,
or sing tender songs to Diana on her silver
throne IN the moon, or twang the banjo, or
blow the oboe-and they do all these things
without interfering with their work as con-
structive statesmen or great political leaders.
As matter of fact, charmed by the bars OF
melody, enraptured by the spirit, or en-
tranced by a barbershop tenor, they Guido
themselves, go further than they have ever
done in their public lives, or rise above their
prosaic and everyday convictions. There IS
the astounding case of Representative
Richard Bartholdt of Missouri, who has
spent the best years of his life trying to
make the wings of the dove of peace grow
SO long that they will reach round the world.
Put him down at piano, tell him to play
anything he wishes, and the first thing you
know he is using his whiskers as baton to
keep time to the martial airs he plays while
he dreams of cannonade and conquest, of
laundering charge and bloody victory.
There is among the musical mighty dead
ringer for Apollo that is, in performing, but
not in stature Apollo established himself
as member of the Musical Onion when he
won the prize by playing the either: but, if
Julius Kahn, the man with dramatic past,
but now member of the House from Cali
fornia, had lived at that time, the chances
are that the god of music would have been
sent back to night school to learn the real
art of strumming the strings. Kahn, who
used to play big Shakespearean roles in
small Roman robes, at one time was even
paid money for playing the zither-and any
body who can make money out of the either
is some zitherer.
PUT there were some more good old days
= the brazen- throated years marked by
the brain of the Missouri mule and the self
confidence of the Missouri man-when
Champ Clark, filling his manly chest with
all the musical consonance, concord, and
blending of tones in that neck of the woods,
taught singing school. None of the Clark
pupils, up to date, have charmed Partisan
audiences or drawn large salaries: but what
they paid to Champ helped him along in life
and today he looks back
upon that performance with
such pride that every now
and then he sings few bars
of that tender little thing, -
Ever of Thee" which our
grandmothers used to use as -
one means of dragging I'm
willing victims to the altar