The record changer (Jan-Dec 1949)

Above Is the recording room in which Gennett's historic jazz sides were made. Below is the Starr Piano Company, home of Gennett records, and Harry Gennett, Sr. (right), president of the firm. so well that royalties would roll in and lucrative show circuit and dance contracts follow. Even the best of them had no idea that they were making musical history and that, some day, collectors would pay fabulous prices for such early-day recordings. Obscure artists poured in to the Wayne County seat from everywhere. Some came in Model T Fords. A few of the more prosperous rolled into town in flashy Stutz Bearcats, Marmons and big Cole eights. But most arrived by train or interurban from Indianapolis. Their coming sometimes was disturbing, for old-timers still recall how many a happy-go-lucky musician whiled away the time by publicly flouting the Volstead Act. Employes of the old studio recall now that many of the to-be greats didn't look or sound particularly impressive at the time. For instance, the youngsters who came to fcive Gennett a sample of their Chicago-style dance music were much more nervous than their bold name — the Wolverines — would imply. The Wolverines frequently came to Richmond on the way to or returning from dance engagements at Indiana University or the old Casino Gardens on the outskirts of Indianapolis. Among them was a cornetist named Bix Beiderbecke who produced much better music than his pale complexion led listeners to expect. Accompanying the Wolverines to Richmond from Bloomington at times was an Indiana University law student who liked playing the piano better than studying musty legal tomes. Now one of Gennett's distin guished alumni, Hoagy Carmichael remembers the old studio as a "dreary place . . . which didn't soothe me." Among the other now-famous names who made jazz classics in Richmond were Duke Ellington, Fletcher Henderson, Wingy Manone, Jelly Roll Morton, and Husk O'Hare. Varied other items of Americana also were waxed at Gennett. William Jennings Bryan's "Cross of Gold" oration; sacred music by Homer Rodeheaver and Gypsy Smith; ditties by Cliff (Ukulele Ike) Edwards ; It Ain't Gonna Rain No Mo' No Mo', by red-headed Wendell Hall, and countless other discs that ranged from physical culture exercises to Ku Klux Klan mouthings. But by the early 1930's, the depression slowed Gennett's recording business to a snail's pace. What little record-making Gennett did in those dreary days was largely for radio. Sound effect records it began making then are the only ones still sold under the Gennett label. However, even though the Gennett label is seldom seen nowadays, except among collections of rare records, the Hoosier recordmakers are by no means out of business. In the last few years Gennett has pressed about 3,600,000 records annually — as many as the Richmond plant ever turned out anytime in the past. But all are copies of master discs recorded in studios elsewhere. Presently they are sold under the labels of a dozen recording firms. Harry Gennett, Sr., 72-year-old president of the Starr Company, has no plans to ever resume recording. Manufacturing 300 pianos and pressing some 300,000 records a month is a big task under present conditions, he maintains. Richmond's staid citizenry probably would have raised a furore over the influx of jazz musicians had not Gennett been such a familiar name thereabouts for so long. The British-born grandfather of President Gennett, John Lumsden, founded the piano company before the Civil War. It is reputedly the first west of the Alleghenies. Gennett's father, Henry Gennett, had charge of the concern when the firm decided to make talking machines. Success at that led to record-making. (Continued on Page 19)