“Beale Street Blues”
George Olsen And His Music
(Victor 19457-A) July 25, 1924
“Boll Weevil Blues”
International Novelty Orchestra; Ed Smalle and Vernon Dalhart, vocal
(Victor 19457-B) August 8, 1924
Here is a pre-microphone era record from the Edward Mitchell collection. The recording on one side turned 100 years old just a few days ago, and the one on the other side will turn 100 within the next couple of weeks.
“Beale Street Blues” is a famous 1917 W. C. Handy composition named after a street in Memphis, Tennessee, which, at the time, was part of that city’s black entertainment district. Many jazz artists have performed the song and continue to do so. This version is quite hot, especially for George Olsen compared with most of his band’s recordings after the advent of electrical recording the following year.
What caught my attention about this record and made me curious enough to pull it and give it an audition was the title on the flip side: “Boll Weevil Blues.” The Central American insect, which first appeared in the United States in the 1890s, was very much a topical subject when this recording was made as, by the 1920s, it had a devastating impact on cotton crops and local economies throughout the southern states.
This was not the only song from the period with the title “Boll Weevil Blues.” Several artists made recordings of a 1921 song with that title composed by Cliff Hess. While music and lyrics are protected by copyright laws, song titles are not.
This particular composition was by two extremely obscure composers, Emabel Palmer providing the music and Charles Postal McCurdy providing the lyics. Both hailed from Augusta, Arkansas. Apparently, it was the only song either of them published, and neither a genealogy website referencing McCurdy nor an obituary for Emabel Palmer makes mention of them having written a song that was both published and recorded. Around the time this song was copyrighted in March 1924, McCurdy had been working as a teacher at Fakes Chapel, about 10 miles northeast of Augusta.
I cannot help but wonder how, in an age dominated by the Tin Pan Alley music publishing firms and fierce competition to get a song published by one of them, two unknowns from a very small town in rural Arkansas were able to get their song not only published but recorded.
I have found four references to recordings of the Palmer-McCurdy song, three of which have a common denominator: vocal performances by Ed Smalle and Vernon Dalhart, neither of whom were under exclusive contract with any single label.
Their first recording of the song was for Edison on June 20, 1924, accompanied by John Cali on banjo and issued under the pseudonym of Arkansas Trio. In July 1924, Smalle and Dalhart recorded the song for OKeh, accompanied by Harry Reser on banjo.
On June 25, 1924, Smalle and Dalhart made a recording of the song for Victor that was not issued. According to the Discography of American Historical Recordings, Victor ledgers indicate that the recording was “made on approval” – meaning that Victor had not contracted for the recording and the artists made it with the hope that Victor would buy it.
Apparently, Victor executives liked it enough that Smalle and Dalhart were invited to make the recording presented here on August 8, 1924, backed by the International Novelty Orchestra, a pseudonym for Victor’s in-house orchestra led by Nathaniel Shilkret.
On November 3, 1924, an instrumental recording of the song was made on the Gennett label by the Miami Lucky Seven, a regional band from the upper Midwest.
Given that Smalle and Dalhart’s first recording of the song on Edison was issued under the pseudonym of the Arkansas Trio, which was not used on any other Edison record, I have to wonder if the pseudonym is more than a mere coincidence and might have been inspired by where the song originated. And the note in the Victor ledgers that their initial recording for that company was “made on approval” indicates that the song was being actively plugged by Smalle and/or Dalhart.
Thus, it occurs to me that perhaps someone familiar with Emabel Palmer or Charles Postal McCurdy might have brought the song to the attention of either Smalle or Dalhart, who then decided to plug their version of it to the record labels. If that was the case, it would explain how a song by two unknowns from Arkansas was recorded and picked up by a major New York music publishing house.
On the Edison recording and the earlier, unissued Victor recording, both Smalle and Dalhart are credited on the record companies’ ledgers for the kazoo playing, and I think it is a safe bet that they did so on this recording.