Evening star., 1921-12-04

aecompanied by silent, s unsmiling lin
skinned children rolled in the thick
dust and screamed.
T SPIED an adobe shack. The win
dows were guiltless of glass
panes, and through them I could see
wares spread out to catch the eye of
the occasional wayfarer-belts and
sandals and headdresses and more
belts, all decorated with perhaps the
same kind of beads for which the
centuries back. The lure was too
strong, and / went inside to barter.
An old Indian, digniied as any statue
of bronze, greeted me and grunted
prices in voice that would have
done credit to a Roman senator. In
back room a high-pitched squaw
soprano screamed at her sQualling
brood to be still. They Gained down.
and then something happened which
sent thrill along every inch Of me
from head to toe. For suddenly there
came from that back room an unex-
pected phrase Of opening music. fol-
lowed at once by my own voice!
1t was uncanny! To be greeted by
ones own voice so far from every
here. in the midst OF people wnom
childhood training impels me to think
of as "savages. Here they were,
these uncultured. semi -barbaric red
skins supplanting their native war
music with my ELI. Eli" l could not
resist the temptation. To the utter
astonishment of all within hearing. |
Joined my real voice to my record
voice. The similarity was too strong
to prevent even their untaught ears
from perceiving who ! was. With
ewes of the sort he might have turned
upon one of his ancient gods, he re-
garded me for an instant. Then, put
ting aside his beaded belts and
brides, knelt swiftly at my feet ana
kissed the hem of my skirt.
To him / was the goddess of song.
come to him from out of the little tin
horn. Would that / were. Sweet
goddess that brings music to all, IN
the remotest places. to soothe them,
to make them rejoice. to give them
new faith. wherever tney are whal-'
ever they may be!
Rut / have digressed far from my
first experience of record-making, ana
I hope my readers will pardon my
wandering so far from my subject.
but thoughts of the little tin norm
waited me a thousand miles away 10
the Indian country. But to get back
to the recording room and our solo.
The song ends Pasternack holds his
hand aloft to betoken silence while
the recording needle scratches its way
to the limit of the disc.
"All right" came cheerfully from
the little booth. The orchestra. re-
leased from the strain of all unneces-
- sary noise. burst forth again into it's
ceaseless babble and tuning up.
-Four seconds calls the same voice.
Pasternack looks elated. Four. sec
onds to spare! That's the way to
orchestrate a number.
Oh. those awful waits while he
tries to cut a minute or so over
time" out of a score. Then all at
once, with scarcely no notice. the
miracle happens. What we have just
sung and played into the horns comes
back to US through the horn 1 used!
OF all eerie feelings. hearing your
voice from record for the nrst time
must certainly be the eerfest.
WE all listened intently. The over
w poweringly loud orchestra had
dwindled in tone to its proper place in
the background and my voice rang out
loud and clear" Pasternack nodded
approvingly as it went on, making an
occasional correction and suggestion.
But it seemed to me as near perfect as
possible and I began to think it was
finished. But no! Again we went
through the same performance. ard
then again and again, through SEEM
ingly endless series of test records.
Hours pass, and my legs threaten to
crumple beneath me. / began to won
der IL even all the vast fortunes that
Caruso and Mccormack and others are
said to have made out of the little tin
horn could repay them for the strain
of singing to 1t. Two hundred thousand
a year is McCormack's reward, with the
others not far away. How many test
records. I thought to myself has Nc
cormack had to endure for that?
But at last, all flaws seemingly elimi-
mated, the final and actual recording is
announced. That done. my poor. tired
body, strong usually and tireless as 1t
is felt like caving in, and I returned
wearily to my hotel, to await another
session for the following day. There was
no need to tell me to rest! I was COM
pietely tagged out.
The next morning a nice, new, shiny
INV first, submitted for my approval It
was put on the machine and played
A feeling Of awe ran through me as l
listened. This. then, was the personal
message that could send into every
corner OF the world. This was to find