Songs

Dominic Vautier 1-11

After The Ball

Charlie Harris got the idea to write After The Ball during an incident he had witnessed in Chicago some years earlier while attending a formal ball. After the last dance, while Charlie and his friends were leaving, he happened to overhear a quarrel between an attractive young lady and her escort. The man finally turned on his heel and went home in a huff, leaving her behind. She then burst into tears and left unescorted, which was quite an embarrassment. The scene left a lasting impression on Chuck Harris, who had a soft spot in his heart for women. Later that year Harris returned to Milwaukee and completed perhaps the work of his lifetime.

The song is a story told by an old man to his little niece, the story of a woman that he had once taken to a ball when he was young. He went to get her a glass of water and, upon returning, found her in the arms of somebody else. Full of anger, hostility, and disappointment, he left her then and there, never to speak to her again, and she died of a broken heart. Years later the old man found out that the “other man” was the young lady’s brother.

The gentle and lilting melody has been a favorite from its first release. After the Ball’ is synonymous with the “Gay Nineties”, that everlasting period of slow waltzes and broken hearts, canoe rides and parasols. The song itself continued to sell for the next 15 years. It is said to have eventually sold about 6 million copies, and it has become a part of our history.

After the ball is over, after the break of morn,
After the dancers leaving, after the stars are gone,
Many a heart is aching, if you could read them all;
Many the hopes that have vanish’d after the ball.[3]

My Gal Sal

My Gal Sal was the swan song of Paul Dresser, one of the better known writers of Tin Pan Alley. He had come to New York in 1886, and made his mark on the music industry by 1899 with his first big song, On the Banks on the Wabash. By 1905, Dresser was down on his luck, seriously overweight, poor, and in failing health. Still, Paul Dresser took one last shot at fame and fortune. Just recently he had acquired the friendship of a young woman and wrote a song about her. He waived the manuscript of this recently written song in front of one of his friends and said sadly, “Here is a song that should sell a million copies, but I don’t have a dime to push it with”.[4] He died the next day, probably of a heart attack, but Tin Pan Alley forever maintained the legend that he died of a broken heart.

Your troubles, sorrows, and care,
She was always willing to share.
A mild sort of devil, but dead on the level,
Was my gal Sal.[5]

Bird in a Gilded Cage

Harry Von Tilzer did something crazy, hw wrote a parody. It turned out to be a poignant ballad about a girl who sold her love to a rich old man. Ironically, Von Tilzer wrote the song as a joke, a spoof of the tearjerker craze. He meant for the song to be so stupid, so silly that people would simply laugh. Harry could not understand the popularity of such sentimental drivel as After the Ball, and Little Lost Girl. He had little sympathy for all the fabricated and overdone pathos that flowed from so many of these songs. He felt that intelligent, urbane, metropolitan people, like those living in New York, surely didn’t fall for the ridiculously sad material anymore.

So in late 1899, Harry and his close friend, Art Lamb, were tossing around the idea of writing a take-off on tearjerker songs, which would sound so lugubrious that it would put all tearjerkers to shame. Lamb handed Von Tilzer some words and said, “I dare you to set this to music.” Harry casually stuck the words in his vest pocket and turned his attention to other things.[6]

A few days later, Harry joined some friends in their usual Saturday night barhopping marathon, and ended up in a house of unfavorable reputation. Since he was not particularly interested in joining in the activities, he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the words to the “satire”. Feeling awkward at being board in the midst of merriment, and having time on his hands with nothing else to do, he made the best of things, sat down at the piano and composed a melody around the words.[7] It wasn’t too much later that he had a song, and in his strong baritone voice, began to sing. A pall of silence fell over the house. Young girls, who were sitting close by, began to sob faintly. Harry looked up and found himself surrounded by tearful young ladies. He couldn’t believe it.

She’s only a bird in a guilded cage,
A beautiful sight to see.
You may think she is happy and free from care,
She’s not though she seems to be.
It’s sad when you think of her wasted life,
For youth cannot mate with age.
And her beauty was sold for an old man’s gold,
She’s a bird in a guilded cage.[8]

Harry had composed the song of the year, the “bird cage” song. What began as a tearjerker put-on turned out to be the biggest hit of 1900. Bird in A Gilded Cage had the distinction of ringing in the new decade and the new century as well.

Daisy Bell

In 1892, Harry Dacre, an Englishman coming to America by steamer, was walking down the gangway carrying under his arm his most prized possession, his bicycle. At the foot of the ramp he was stopped by a customs inspector, who slapped an import duty on his bike.

When the surprised immigrant recounted the incident to fellow songwriter, William Jerome, his friend replied, ”Well, just be glad it wasn’t a bicycle built for two. Then they would have charged you double.”

The words had a ring to them and Harry spent the next several weeks thinking about what he could do with the phrase, “a bicycle built for two.” He eventually wrote a catchy ballad about a young man who couldn’t afford an expensive wedding, but who could afford a bike for himself and his bride. Unable to find a publisher, Harry gave the song to a friend who was going to England, and there it became a smash hit. The new English songs popularity spread back to America and in 1892 alone, Daisy Bell sold over 2 million copies. 1892 was indeed a great year for music.

Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer true.
I’m half crazy, all for the love of you.
It won’t be a stylish marriage.
I can’t afford a carriage,
But you’ll look sweet, upon the seat
Of a bicycle built for two.[9]

The bicycle was highly popular at this time, and like the bicycle, Daisy Bell continued to sell very well for the next 12 years, until automobiles came along, but until then the destinies of both Daisy Bell and the bicycle were connected.

The Band Played On

John Palmer was a out-of-work actor when he wrote The Band Played On. The title phrase occurred to him when he was living with his sister in Manhattan. He was shaving when she called him downstairs to breakfast. “Hurry up John, I’ve got your breakfast on the table!” she said. John hardly heard her; he was standing by the window watching an itinerant German band play across the street. “John, you didn’t hear a word I said. Are you coming down, or not?” She asked again. John replied “I’ll be down in a second. I want to hear the band play on.”[10] When he finally did come downstairs, his sister somewhat sarcastically said “And all this time since I first called you, the band played on.”

At this point John realized that the words could become a great title for a song. The next day he wrote the story of a friend of his, Matt Casey, who had an intense relationship with a strawberry blonde. According to the song, she eventually became Mrs. Casey. Palmer worked out a melody and tried to sell the song to Tin Pan Alley with no takers. Finally an ambitious young comedian actor from the Bowery named Charlie Ward made some changes to the song and, by his own efforts, got it published.

Casey would waltz with a strawberry blonde
And the band played on.
He’d glide ‘cross the floor
With the girl he adored,
And the band played on.
But his brain was so loaded
It nearly exploded.
The poor girl would shake with alarm.
He’d ne’er leave the girl
With the strawberry curls
And the band played on.[11]

Critics condemned this song. They said that it had no artistic value and that all of its technical aspects were flawed. The public apparently felt that it was the critics’ judgment that was flawed. Consumers of popular music loved the song and bought over a million copies of it.

The Curse

Paul Dresser carried a lot of weight, emotionally as well as physically, and he put all of his 300 pounds into his vaudeville stage act. To describe his performance as impressive is an understatement. He was a man of extremes, sometimes very happy, sometimes very unhappy, most of the time unhappy. This was obvious in his music as well as in the affairs of his heart.

His marriage some time earlier to May Howard was certainly no exception, for after a whirlwind honeymoon, they separated, going their individual ways in pursuit of their own acting careers, and May continued to seek the kinds of worldly pleasures and companionship she had been accustomed to before they got married.

Paul Dresser had his dark side, for while separated he wrote a song, intended to be sung to his errant wife. For that reason, at every one of his performances, he reserved a box in the hope that some day she would do him the courtesy of attending one of his shows. Finally, after continued invitations, she did come. Paul Dresser, with his overpowering stage presence and in his rich baritone voice, sang The Curse. This was the first and only time the song was performed, because the music was destroyed immediately after this performance. It is somewhat frightening to describe what happened. We do know that women began screaming and fainting and crying. After the first chorus, many covered their ears, and many more left the theater. May Howard sat motionless throughout the song. She was never able to perform on stage again. She had been completely and thoroughly undone by the episode. Paul Dresser had visited his intense unhappiness upon his wife, whether or not she deserved it.

My Gal is a High Born lady

The song My Gal is a High Born Lady had everything needed to make it a ragtime hit; great melody, good lyrics, and something altogether unique--ragtime syncopation. It is significant not only because it was the first true popular ragtime song, but because it influenced many songs that came after it. The unusual dance step that it produced was very much like a fox trot. However, its slow-slow-quick-quick rhythm was not to get an appropriate name for another 17 years, when Harry Fox introduced his fox trot dance step. The ragtime trend that My Gal started was to continue for the next 20 years. Soon after it came even bigger hits like Hello, My Baby and Bill Bailey.

Barney Fagan got the inspiration for this song from, as he says, a broken bicycle pedal. He was riding home on his bike, dividing his attention between the song he was thinking about and the worries he had about finding enough money to buy his wife a birthday present. Fagan was immediately struck by the unusual floppidy-flop rhythm that the loose bike pedal created. Barney suddenly realized that he could make the music he was working on fit into this crazy “ragged” floppidy-flop rhythm, so he stopped, sat down by the side of the road, and composed several measures. When Barney got home he finished the first popular ragtime song, sold the piece for $100, and bought his wife a birthday present.

Sidewalks of New York

Charles Lawlor wrote the music and James Blake wrote the words to Sidewalks of New York in 1894. More than a century later, it is alive and well as the anthem of New York City. The collaboration between Lawlor and Blake began when Lawlor was looking for a new derby in a hat shop where Blake worked. Lawlor, a song-and-dance man in vaudeville, was humming a tune he had just made up out of the blue. Blake liked it and asked if he could try writing words to it[12]. For the rest of the day, between customers, Blake wrote. The words came easily because they were all about things he knew.

Down in front of Casey’s old brown wooden stoop,
On a summer’s evening we formed a merry group.
Boys and girls together, we would sing and waltz
While the Ginnie play the organ on the sidewalks of New York.

Chorus:

East-side, west-side, all around the town
The tots sing Ring-a-Rosie, London Bridge is falling down,
Boys and girls together, me and Mamie O’Rourke,
Trip the light fantastic on the sidewalks of New York.

That’s where Johnny Casey and little Jimmy Crowe,
With Jakey Kruse, the baker, who always had the dough,
Pretty Nellie Shannon, with a dude as light as cork,
First picked up the waltz step on the sidewalks of New York.[13]

The verses Blake wrote memorialized his own growing up in New York. The house next door had a brown stoop and belonged to a man named Higgins (Casey in the song because it sounded better). They bought their bread from old Jakey Kruse who owned a bakery down the street. Jimmy was taught the slow waltz by a neighbor girl named Mamie O’Rourke. His best friends were Johnny Higgins and Jimmy Crowe. There was a beautiful young girl down the street named Nellie Shannon, and she was dating a “dude” who dressed in flashy clothes.

Sidewalks sold many copies and became extremely popular in the city. Governor Al Smith renamed it East Side, West Side and used it as his theme when he ran for president in 1928.

Wait Till the Sun Shines, Nellie

Harry Von Tilzer said this song was his greatest work.[14] He was the most respected and productive songwriter of the period, the man whose works sold more copies of sheet music than any other songwriter. This song quickly sold well over a million copies in 1905.

Harry had an amazing ability to observe people and use everyday situations as inspiration for his songs. He could see melody right in front of his eyes, and one simple incident often would set him going. Sometimes the melody came first, but usually he needed just the right words or the right image.

In this case he was going home one afternoon when he got caught in a big rainstorm. The only shelter available was a nearby doorway where people were already huddled to get away from the rain. As Harry ducked into the doorway, he noticed a young man and his girl friend, who was softly sobbing. The sudden rainstorm had ended their plans for a fun day at Coney Island, and the man whispered to his sweetheart, “Wait till the sun shines, Nellie.”

This single phrase and this image set bells ringing in Harry’s head. He raced back to his apartment, frantically worked out a melody to fit the “Nellie” song, and asked his longtime friend and confidant, Andy Sterling to help do the words. With Nellie, Von Tilzer had completed his finest work.

Wait till the sun shines, Nellie,
When the clouds go drifting by,
We’ll be so happy, Nellie,
Don’t you cry.
Down lovers’ lane we’ll wonder,
Sweethearts you and I,
Wait till the sun shines, Nellie,
Bye and bye.[15]

I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now

Harold Orlob and William Hough were hard at work in 1909 on a Broadway play. Collaborating on a play is an association that often lasts a long time, perhaps a year or more. Songwriters, on the other hand, often work together no more than a few days.

This is what happened when the two men wrote I Wonder Who’s Kissing Her Now. They were at a party and overheard some of the disappointed male guests grumbling that a very popular young lady had not shown up. One of the impatient young men whispered under his breath, “I wonder who’s kissing her now?” The phrase and the situation inspired the two songwriters, who put this song together over the next few weeks. They included it in the musical play that they had been working on, The Prince for Tonight. The song was a giant success and is still done today, but the play flopped.

I wonder who’s kissing her now.
I wonder who’s teaching her how.
I wonder who’s looking into her eyes,
Breathing sighs, telling lies.

Sweet Adeline

Henry Armstrong and Richard Gerard wrote the song Sweet Adeline in 1903 but they couldn’t get anybody to publish it. At first, they called the song Sweet Rosalie. Unfortunately a lot of other Rosalie type songs were on the market, but they were still undeterred. Nevertheless Sweet Rosalie laid around for seven years gathering dust. Gerard was just about ready to give up when he learned that his friend, Fred Rycroft, needed a good quartet song for his new barbershop quartet, The Quaker City Four. When Gerard changed the name of the song to Sweet Adeline, the chemistry of the change propelled the song into immortality.

Sweet Adeline,
My Adeline,
At night sweet heart,
For you I pine.

In all my dreams,
Your fair face beams,
You’re the flower of my heart,
Sweet Adeline[18]

The song completely went off the charts. From that day forward we have been blessed with the flowing strains of the premier barbershop song of all time.

In Boston, John J. Fitzgerald ran for Mayor using Adeline as his theme song. Soon, whenever he appeared at rallies or gatherings, everyone spontaneously burst into close harmony. This practice spread to the inebriated, and the citizens of Boston were treated to a constant spectacle of groups of drunken singers un-harmoniously attempting to perform this song at all hours of the day and night. Things got so bad that Boston officials seriously considered passing an ordinance that would outlaw the singing of Sweet Adeline within the city limits.[19] Sweet Adeline came close to being banned in Boston.

Casey Jones

When Casey Jones appeared in print, Lawrence Seibert and Eddie Newton were credited with writing of both words and music, but these two men were probably not the original authors, at least not totally. Seibert and Newton first heard the melody when some railroad workers were humming it and decided it could be made into a decent song. Railroad crews were accustomed to applying the same music to various railroad catastrophes, using this tune and making up different words to go with each new catastrophe. In this case they were singing about a certain railroad engineer Casey Jones, who was involved in a tragic train wreck some years earlier.

It was on the night of Sunday, April 29, 1900, engineer John Luther Jones drove the fast cannonball express out of Memphis. Simian Taylor Webb was the fireman on board. The regular engineer was sick and Casey and Sim Webb were called up as substitutes. They were already eight hours late so you might say they were both in a big hurry, highballing it, as the yardbirds[20] say. When engine number 382 came around a bend with Casey at the throttle, the two found themselves looking at the back of a freight car that was standing still on the track directly in front of them. Casey told Sim Webb to jump, and moments later, with Jones still at the throttle trying to stop the speeding locomotive, the fast cannonball express slammed into the freight train. Jones was killed instantly. Webb lived to tell the story[21]

Seibert write four verses for the song, using the same melody he had picked up from the railroad workers, while Newton arranged words around the melody.[22] At first they had difficulty getting any publisher to look at the song, but eventually it became a big seller, and highballing Casey was forever after an American legend.

On the banks of the Wabash

On the banks of the Wabash became Paul Dresser’s big success story. He wrote it after a conversation with his brother, Theodore Dreiser[23], who himself was later to become noted as a journalist and writer. Paul was feeling frustrated by the elusiveness of first-rate success in the songwriting business. Theodore suggested that he write about something that he knew, something about home, something that he was familiar with. “Why not write about the good old Wabash and those fine sycamores growing along its banks?”[24] Said Ted.

Paul was inspired by his brother’s words and went into his customary feverish activity, worked all night and came up with a winner. On the Banks of the Wabash was Paul Dresser’s masterpiece, sold well over a million copies, and became understandably popular in Indiana, so much so that it soon was voted Indiana’s theme song. This experience gave Dresser renewed inspiration and propelled his faltering career into serious songwriting. Although he would never write another really successful song until just before he died, this single song became the trademark of his life, and Indiana’s trademark as well.

My Old New Hampshire Home

This song has not stood the test of time, as is the case with other songs in this section. It was unbelievably popular in 1898, selling two million copies and launching the Sterling-Von Tilzer team into stardom.

Harry Von Tilzer and Andy Sterling had rented an apartment together. They were about two weeks behind on the rent, so one night they silently crept up to their third-floor apartment, afraid to turn on the light for fear the manager would catch them and throw them out. Andy placed a sheet of paper against the windowpane (some say this piece of paper was the rent notice) and, using the street lamp for light, wrote the words to a song which commemorated Dewey’s victory at Manila during the Spanish American war. Harry put the words to music. They were able to sell the song to a publisher, William Dunn for $5, and later received an additional $10 after Dunn’s daughter told her publisher father that she liked it very much. Dunn made considerable profit on the venture and Andy and Harry were able to pay the rent.[25]

I’m Afraid to Come Home in the Dark

1905 and 1906 were good years for the dynamic team of Harry Williams and Egburt Van Alstyne. They were able to put together several songs during this period, songs such as In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree, Cheyenne, Won’t You Come Over to My House, Why Don’t You Try, and I’m Afraid to Come Home in the Dark. The last song was not the biggest hit, but it did turn out to be a big hit in New York City. In fact there were few places in town where the sonorous sounds of this soft waltz were not heard.

O. Henry, the mystery writer, loved this song. His real name was William Sydney Porter, and he began writing short stories when he was in prison serving a two-year term for embezzlement. He claimed that he was framed, but then there was a mystery to that story. After Porter got out of prison he went to New York to continue his career in writing short stories. In the few years left to him before his death he became a famous writer, and an extremely familiar figure of his day on West 26th Street, Manhattan.

By 1910 the short story writer was at death’s door. He lay in deep coma in his darkened room at the Caledonia Hotel. One afternoon he suddenly awoke from his coma at the sound of a hurdy-gurdy[26] outside his window playing his favorite melody, I’m Afraid to Come Home in the Dark. The surprised nurse rushed to Porter’s bedside to hear his dying words, “Pull up the curtain, I’m afraid to come home in the dark”.[27] Nobody could figure out exactly what he meant. O. Henry ended his life as he had lived it, with one more mystery.

I’d Leave My Happy Home For You

In 1899 Harry Von Tilzer was still struggling to make a name for himself. Among his many skills, he was above all an accomplished piano player and was accompanying a play in Hartford Connecticut. A girl waited for him at the stage door after one of the practices. She told Harry she wanted to go to New York with him and become famous too. Harry said something offhand like “Well pack your bags and come along”.

A few days later, when the company was about to leave, there she was, bags all packed and ready to go. Harry gently tried to talk the girl out of coming to New York with him. She took him to a window, and pointed to her home, a magnificent house on the nearby hill. “Oh Harry, I’d leave my happy home for you.”[28] She said.0

I'm not sure how he got out of this jam, but Harry wasn’t really ready to enter into a full-time relationship with a rich, stage-struck girl. Her words did made a kind of sense to him. He immediately banged out a sketchy melody and asked a friend of his, Will Heelan, to write lyrics for it using the phrase “I’d leave my happy home for you”. Harry got the song published and Harry’s friend, Blanche Ring, the Broadway singer, popularized it. The song became a million seller.[29]

When you were Sweet Sixteen

Jim Thornton was a successful stand-up comedian. He was also John L. Sullivan’s[30] favorite drinking buddy and piano player. This led to a life of serious bar hopping and even more serious drinking. His wife Bonnie, always one to worry about his health, once pouted. “Don’t you love me anymore, Jim?”

Never at a loss for words, Big Jim quickly responded, “Why I love you like I did when you were sweet sixteen.”

From this reply Jim was inspired to work on a song which he completed in about two days of frantic work. In the trouble-making style that was characteristic of him, Thornton sold the song for practically nothing to two different publishing houses at the same time. Perhaps he did it to make things interesting. The song sold millions and the two publishers, John W. Witmark & Co., and Joseph W. Stern & Co. took the issue to court and fought over copyright for the next 50 years. The copyright finally expired in 1944. Jim had certainly made things interesting.

I love you as I never loved before,
Since first I met you on the village green.
Come to me or my dream of love is o’er.
I love you as I loved you
When you were sweet,
When you were sweet sixteen.[31]

Rufus Rastus Johnson Brown

Harry Von Tilzer was returning to New York after a visit to Miami. While he was standing on the wooden platform waiting for a train, he overheard a loud conversation. “What you gonna’ do about the rent? What you gonna’ say to the landlord when he comes ‘round. You ain’t got no sense and you won’t have any on Judgment Day!”

On his long trip back to New York Harry turned the words over in his mind. When he got back he told his close friend Andy Sterling about the incident. Together they wrote this catchy ragtime song.[16]

Rufus Rastus Johnson Brown,
What you goin’ to do when the rent comes ‘round?
What you goin’ to say, how you goin’ to pay
You’ll never have a bit of sense till Judgment day.[17]

When I Lost You

This was the only sad song Irving Berlin ever wrote, and it was completely based on his own experience. In 1911, when the very successful songwriter was signing copies of new music at his publishing house, two young women got into a fight over a copy with his signature on it. Berlin remarked later ”I used to dream of people fighting for the right to sing my stuff, but this was the first time I saw that dream come true”.[32] He settled the argument this way. He gave the sheet music to one of the women and took the other one out on a date. Her name was Dorothy Goetz, the sister of Ray Goetz, a theatrical producer.

Dorothy Goetz was a petite brunette, and within weeks the two were hopelessly in love and six months later they were married. The newlyweds escaped the cold weather of New York City and went to Cuba for their honeymoon, but an outbreak of typhoid fever in Havana caused them to cut their vacation short. After their return, Dorothy became ill and she died of typhoid fever five months later.

The tragically brief marriage left this 23-year-old man devastated. He could not rid himself of despair and guilt feelings that somehow he was responsible for his wife’s death. He had lost everything: his homeland, his father, his singing career, and now his young wife. The only thing left to him was his amazing songwriting ability.

To pay homage to his lost love, Berlin did what he was best at, and wrote a song. When I Lost You was unusual, for this majestic waltz, done in slow three-quarter time, hinted at a funeral dirge; its use of soft diminished seventh’s almost gave one hope. The public proved that Berlin’s belief, that sad music doesn’t sell was wrong, when they purchased well over a million copies.

My Melancholy baby

My Melancholy baby was written in 1912. It is remarkable in several ways. The authors, Earnest Burnett and George Norton, did little else in the way of music, although Norton later composed the words for Memphis Blues. The song had an unusual title. It sputtered out in 1912 and moldered away for almost 30 years, until Bing Crosby dusted it off and made it a hit in 1939. The song was perfectly suited for the 1940’s era, and became the first torch song ever written.[33] It was simply written 30 years too early.[34]

Sweet Rosie O’Grady

Maude Nugent was a singer and dancer in New York City who in 1895 married Broadway songwriter Billy Jerome. She decided to try her hand at songwriting, and composed a soft ballad called Sweet Rosie O’Grady. Shy by nature, she told no one about it for several weeks, even her songwriter husband. When Maude finally showed him what she had written, he was impressed and advised her to try using it onstage. She performed her song and brought the house down. Nugent became the first woman to write a modern American hit.[35]

Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight

There is not much uncertainty about who wrote Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight but there is some question about where they got the song. Ted Metz presumably came up with the melody and some of the words, but the tune was known to have been a well-established favorite at Babe Connors’ St. Louis brothel well before Ted Metz ever heard of it.

Ted Metz had been to Babe’s and was at least subconsciously familiar with the melody when the minstrel show he was with stopped at a railroad junction near Old Town, Louisiana. Some kids were playing nearby and had built a huge bonfire, which spread to some nearby railroad ties. Members of the minstrel show piled out of the train and rushed to help local Old Town residents control the fire. In the midst of all this pandemonium, one of the performers remarked glibly, “They’ll be a hot time in the Old Town tonight!”

This phrase formed the core of a set of lyrics that Metz set to music, using the snappy melody he had remembered from Babe Connors’ brothel. Joe Hayden, a member of the minstrel group, helped him with the words. From 1896 on, almost every minstrel show began its program with Hot Time. Two years later, Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders charged up San Juan Hill to this song. Hot Time was then adopted by American soldiers as the unofficial Spanish American War song.

AFTER THE WAR

“Welcome home! Are you one of the heroic 71st?”
“No, I ain’t no hero. I’m a regular.”

Charles Dana Gibson, 1898.

Here are some other links in this article:

Origins of Early Popular Music

     Minstrelsy
     Broadway
     Vaudeville
     Other sources

People Growth - the First Baby Boom and it's effect

How Dancing Helped Music

Women and Early Music

Some Early Songwriters

The Influence of the Piano

[1] Andrew Sterling and Kerry Mills, Meet Me in St. Louis, Louis, 1904.
[2] Maxwell F. Marcuse, Tin Pan Alley In Gaslight (New York: Century House, 1959), 140.
[3] Charles K. Harris, After the Ball, 1892.
[4] Marcuse, 128.
[5] Paul Dresser, My Gal Sal, 1905.
[6] Some historians suggest that Harry objected to the lyrics: the young girl had to be married to the old man and not just his paramour, and Von Tilzer insisted that Lamb rewrite the lyrics. Douglas Gilbert, (Lost Chords, Cooper Square Publishers, 1970, p.318) states that it was Bernstein, the publisher, who made Lamb change the lyrics and not Von Tilzer at all. Gilbert’s version may be more credible because two years later the same team of Lamb & Von Tilzer wrote a follow-up song about a whorehouse called Mansion of Aching Hearts.
[7] Sigmund Spaeth, Read ‘em and Weep (New York: Arco Publishing Company, 1945), 205.
[8] Andrew Lamb & Harry Von Tilzer, Bird in a Guilded Cage, 1900.
[9] Harry Dacre, Daisy Bell, 1892.
[10] Marcuse, 174.
[11] Palmer & Ward, Band Played On, 1895.
[12] Gilbert, 257.
[13] Blake & Lawlor, Sidewalks of New York, 1894.
[14] Marcuse, 329
[15] Andrew Sterling & Harry Von Tilzer, Wait Till The Sun Shines, Nellie, 1905.
[16] Marcuse, 328
[17] Andrew Sterling & Harry Von Tilzer, What You Going To Do When the Rent Comes Round, 1905.
[18] Girard & Armstrong, Sweet Adeline, 1903.
[19] Marcuse, 305
[20] People who work in the train yards.
[21] The New York Times, July, 1957.
[22] Marcuse, 411.
[23] Paul had changed his name to Dresser when he went into song writing. It sounded more American.
[24] Marcuse, 229.
[25] Burton , 133.
[26] A type of hand cranked organ used by street vendors.
[27] Burton , 129.
[28] Spaeth, 209.
[29] Burton , 134.
[30] John L. Sullivan (1858-1918), known as “The Great John L,” held the world heavyweight boxing title for 10 years from 1882 until 1892 when he was knocked out by “Gentleman Jim” Corbett in 21 rounds.
[31] Jim Thornton, When You Were Sweet Sixteen, 1898.
[32] Laurence B Bergreen, As Thousands Cheer. (New York: Viking, 1990), 81.
[33] Allec Wilder, American Popular Song, (New York, Oxford University Press, 1972), 17.
[34] The term “torch song” didn’t come into use until about 1927. It describes any slow ballad containing a theme of unrequited or lost love. The expression “to carry a torch for someone” means that love is not reciprocated, and that the other party does not accept the torch of love.
[35] Maude Nugent’s authorship is disputed by some who feel that her husband wrote the songs and had her take responsibility because the arrangement proved to be more successful. None of this was ever proved.