Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1933-03-04
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES E. TRACEWELL.
There's an old-fashioned photograph
louv, ha dauu, ,~,I.a~~

There's an old-fashioned photograph
down in the basement, down where
the cobwebs grow over the stairs; just
an old-time cellar that no one calls
"tap-room," or any such names, be-
cause nobody cares.
It just holds the wash on bad, rainy
days, the furnace, the tubs, and that
is not half; 1t harbors some boxes of
jelly old records. and. in addition. our
old photograph.
Yes, sir, as the radio boys say, we
had neglected that ancient and honor
able mechanism shamefully.
Here it was, all covered with dust,
but still quite capable of sending forth
some mighty good music.
Carefully we busted the top, and
raised the lid.
The tone arm and the sound box
chow old-fashioned those terms areD
were as shiny as ever.
The needles of various types were
just where we had left them SO long
ago.
There was the old record brush the
special one which was the favorite on
Collecting needles, and brushes where
with to dust off records. had always
been special hobby.
OF all the brushes, this particular
one was outstanding. not only for the
way it fitted the hand, but particularly
because of the excellence with which
it did its work.
Held in the right hand, and whisked
around over the grooved face of the
records, whether small or large, this
favorite brush got every speck of dust
How carefully one brushed!
Records were expensive In those days;
most of the finer sorts had music on
one side only.
1t behooved the ambitious collector
to take the best care of them he could.
He brushed and he brushed.
Any one who had been so careless
consigned instantly to outer darkness.
X 4 4
} Then came the radio
For long time the photograph was
pushed over into corner of the room.
Then somebody, going step further,
put vase on top Of 1t.
After that, 1t found itself down In
the basement, the honest old basement.
The years passed.
And how they passed!
One would scarcely have believed how
fast they would or could, or did pass.
Then one day, In an idle moment,
one found ones self timidly raising
the old familiar lid.
What a natural action it was, after
all. One wondered how many thousands
OF times it had been repeated, not with
boredom but because one wildly an
SWered to the call of sweet music.
The sensitive ear, even in those days,
knew that perfection had by no means
been realized In many of the record
lngs there was certain sour" some
thing, flatness which other and less
sensitive listeners could not hear.
Despite this fair for perfection, then
as now the penalty of the discriminat-
ing, the owner Of the fashioned
phCnograph and records received the
truest reproduced music then in ex-
istence.
The great drawback, had been that
after a record had been played a hun
dred, or two hundred, or five hundred
times. 1t began to be bore.
And this no matter how excellent it
was, or how great the music which it
recorded.
There had been another factor. too.
which accounted for the ease with which
many a photograph had been pushed
down into the lower depths
This had been the constant necessity
for jumping up and down. Improve
ments designed to do away with this