little ramh, who made thee? observations on an american music census

Little RAMH, Who Made Thee? Observations on an American Music CensusAuthor(s): D. W. KrummelSource: Notes, Second Series, Vol. 37, No. 2 (Dec., 1980), pp. 227-238Published by: Music Library AssociationStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/939493 .

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LITTLE RAMH, WHO MADE THEE? OBSERVATIONS ON

AN AMERICAN MUSIC CENSUS BY D. W. KRUMMEL

The directory of Resources of American Music History1 should be of particular interest to music librarians and their associates-in general the readership of this journal-since they contributed so much to its content, and were conspicuous among those for whom the text was designed. Furthermore, it should be remembered that the project began in 1975 as a means through which the Music Library Association could celebrate the United States Bicentennial. After nearly five years, the directory will finally be out, describing the holdings of some 3,000 libraries, collections, and other repositories, which document the history of musical activity in the United States from its beginnings to roughly World War II. It is the reference book that librarians, musicologists, performers, and historians will use to find the locations of our country's printed musical writings, manuscripts, sheet music and hymnals, early sound recordings, programs, correspondence, and the like. The basic and official facts about the project and the resulting directory can be found in the book's introduction; the following example, which is part of entry 398 for the University of Illinois, suggests the type of detail in the record of the project:

Archival records of the ... project, including 3 linear meters of reports from the repositories covered . . ., also staff notes and draft entries; 1 linear meter of administrative records and other correspondence; and 8 linear meters of card indexes, including biographical files (3,000 entries), bibliographical files (2,500 entries), reply-card files (4,000 entries), and control files for respondents (nearly 20,000 entries).

But the unofficial, anecdotal, and latent history of this Columbio- cornucopical shofar calls for a special exposition of its own. In part, the present text is offered as a special expression of thanks to readers of this journal, by way of pointing up what the book is and is not. Equally important, the book's compilers welcome an opportunity to propose what

D. W. Krummel is Professor of Library Science and of Music at the ITniversity of Illinois in IUrbana- Champaign, and President-Elect of the Music Library Association. As director of the Resources of American Music History project, the author acknowledges the special contribution of the staff, particularly its continuing members, Jean Geil, Doris J. Dyen, and Deane L. Root, to the project in general and to this essay in particular, although certain passages in the present text will of course be recognized as distinctly his own.-Ed.

'To be published early in 1981 by the University of Illinois Press.

1C 1980 hv the Music Library Association. In(.

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MLA Notes, December 1980

they hope may be the larger context of the work, as a first step toward a continuing program for the documentation of our country's musical activity.

The highly diffuse and expansive nature of our country's musical life, to begin with, has been accepted as a truism. In a nation committed to capitalism and the common man, with its own cultural life significantly shaped during the nineteenth century, such diversity was to be expected. It was time for someone to tackle the job of finding what this all meant in terms of historical documents; and of course we quickly found out. Once under way, the activities of the project burgeoned. (One of the realities of music librarianship, which so many music educators can instinctively comprehend and so many historical musicologists instinctively must resist, involves the "community outreach" of a music library, which is reflected in its collections as well as its services. The cause called "American music" becomes legitimate insofar as its manifestations are identifiable; but the cause called "music in America" becomes exciting, even zany, but above all significant, insofar as its manifest complexity can be harnessed-organized, then comprehended-whether for purposes of insight or of service.) Having undertaken the project, we fully expected a deluge of information. Even so, as supervisor I could not but feel guilty hearing the huffing and puffing in our office and observing activity which, however joyful, was also unmistakeably strenuous, even frantic. The sheer quantity and the diversity of the material must be seen as one of the project's special predicaments. It is of course customary for projects like ours to run over their budgets and past their deadlines; but this one, I would propose, had a superfluity of justification. Our country's musical life, for better or worse, has been distinctively a laissez-faire affair, and so have its documents and their fates.

The anecdotes of the project thus emerged with some regularity, as the staff developed an unwritten file of lore alongside the copy for the printer. Among the incidents were two long-distance calls to local historical societies, just when we were trying to trim the phone bill. Both calls were interrupted for several minutes, one by the respondent's need to catch the garbage man on his rounds, the other by the secretary's need to take her Christmas cookies out of the oven. Such events reassured us that we had indeed reached grassroots of a sort, as did a small accumulation of documents gratuitously supplied (most of them with "Do not return" either specified or militantly implied), among them the prize-winning song, "I'm Going to Float my Boat Right Back to Terre Haute." We are profoundly grateful to the hard-of-hearing "Verge," who relayed the answers to our questions from the back room; to the respondent who declined to help, telling us instead, "you talk to da boss"; to the accordion manufacturer who thoughtfully suggested, "Say, whyn't you chicks drop

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Little RAMH, Who Made Thee?

in see us real soon?" We were given fair warning of exciting things to come on the very first day our office was open by a letter describing the disposition of the unpublished manuscripts of Fidelis Zitterbart, Jr. Our list of impressive names is a long one, which the curious may extract from the index to the directory. We were never able to turn up the Nachlass of the master nineteenth-century art-song composer Jupiter Zeus Thor Hesser; and we had no more luck with the virtuoso piano-roll performer McNair Ilgenfritz. There is a good dissertation to be written about Ameri- can musicians as the offspring of imaginative and determined parents.

The index will further suggest that Tuesday has been the most popular day for a music club to meet, for whatever reaons; it shows one, and only one, musical jig-saw puzzle; and it will probably provide the largest repertory of names of American musicians outside the Bio-Bibliographical Index.2 The individual subject entries in the index will perhaps provoke the observation, "Who would ever be interested in that?" Music librarians will smile sadly but knowingly. They will probably also frown at some of the possible reactions to the aggregations of such subject entries and at the likely grumblings about Kulturgeschichte ohne Kultur. Some of the index's juxtapositions will no doubt strike some readers as gross sacrilege. The point is not to demean the giants by casting them in the light of the nobodies, the worthies in the light of the unworthy. Rather, if compar- isons are in order at all, the index is useful for the purpose of bringing out dimensions. The humanist, in Pascal's classic definition, is the person who can comprehend the extremities of any given spectrum, as well as all of the intermediate points; and, accepting this, the humanist should find here a jolly assortment of spectra to test his credulity as well as his ability to comprehend.

Scope of Census

Apart from its myriad enchantments and its fascination for those who enjoy wasting hours perusing the road atlases and almanacs, what will the directory have accomplished? How good is it? The work must of course speak for itself, and be judged on its merits. Time alone will tell how complete it is, in other words, how its existence will have contributed to its obsolescence. From the compilers' vantages, however, several pre- liminary feelings about the effort may be expressed.

Among the institutional repositories, we felt that we did particularly well (and we were especially impressed) with historical societies. Cham- pioning the material and the cultural heritage of their geographical areas,

2Bio-Bibliographical Index of Musicians in the United States of America since Colonial Times. Washington, D.C.: Pan American Union, Music Division, 1941; variously reprinted. Roughly estimated, there are 10,000 name entries in the Bio-Bibliographical Index, and 7,000 in RAMH; and of these, surprisingly, only about 1,400 in both.

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yet usually with staff and budget more restricted even than that of their neighboring libraries, they responded to our inquiries in numbers proportionately greater than other categories of our mailing list. Their directors and secretaries were eager to describe to the world their precious (if sometimes miniscule) holdings. A good number of our exciting "finds"-i.e., caches of significant materials not, to our knowledge, mentioned or described in print-came from their reports.

Coverage of academic and research libraries was somewhat more erratic when considered in the light of the relatively numerous reference works devoted to their collections. We were usually successful in catching what was in the music library and the rare book room; but we were not always able to convince our contacts that we also needed to know about what was in the back closets, the cataloguing arrearages, the professors' offices, and the special program accumulations. In a few instances we sensed that the librarians simply could not bear to tell us of the awful messes for which proper handling had never been arranged. In other instances, the library or archives probably lacked the support on campus to control or even to know about the materials in question. Such, at any rate, was our impres- sion; and it of course could be quite wrong.

If public libraries appear to be even less impressively covered, this could be partly because of the pressure for service in their daily activities, which comes at the expense of a concern for the collections; but perhaps this explanation is too much conditioned by the library press. In any event, the number of libraries and institutions beyond the pale of such catego- rizations should serve as ample warning about the danger of excessive generalization. Museums, arts centers, regional coordinating programs, and other thoroughly miscellaneous repositories turned up with a fre- quency which was as laudable as it was unsettling to compilers who work for completeness of coverage.

Among the communities of private collectors, a fear of publicity often seemed endemic, and generally in inverse proportion to the owner's confi- dence in scholarly significance of the collection. Those who specialized in hymnals and hymnology proved to be particularly cooperative. We were less successful with the community of sheet music collectors, pleasant experiences (as usual) with some of the truly great gentlemen and scholars in the area notwithstanding. Nor were we able to make much headway with collectors of operatic and vocal recordings, although this may have been for lack of having found the precise entree to the community. Jazz collectors were in general more obliging.

There were also the great miscellaneous collectors-one rebels at the insinuation of calling them "pack rats"-among whom Waldo Selden Pratt, Frederic Grant Gleason, and Ernst C. Krohn deserve special recognition. Persons of an oppressive mixture of sentiment and historicism,

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they deserve a special sympathy all of their own. The difference between sympathy and pity becomes quickly apparent as we remember that their collections are today the very cornerstones of the holdings of major institutions. In such persons the collection of materials, the organization of documentary evidence, the construction of the past, and the promotion of interest in historical topics, all come to be merged, sometimes quite indistinguishably. Here are the models for the ideal continuing programs of responsible cultural institutions.

There are those who collect musical materials as a special interest, and those who accumulate materials in the course of their own musical careers. The latter proved to be particularly difficult to track down, since they could not rightly be approached through form letters, and in fact usually needed a personal intercession as well. Composers (at least those active before 1940) seem already to have made their commitments to particular institutions; and there was no way, short of a personal letter or even an extended discussion, to find out what materials were still in their private possession, even less which items might have been presented to a friend or left with the publisher or first performer. Furthermore, it was obvious that we could hardly hope to describe two particularly important and vast groups of materials, for reasons obvious to those who know the institutions in question. Holdings of groups such as the American Com- posers Alliance are difficult to summarize without prejudice, and in any event are listed in their publications; while the various kinds of music and correspondence held by music publishers (with very few exceptions) must unfortunately be seen as restricted for scholarly access. As for scholars and historians, our hopes of covering the personal papers of those listed in the 1938 A.C.L.S. survey3 were also dashed: many of the papers were described to us through other responses, a few were known to have been destroyed or to be otherwise unavailable, and the form letters we sent out to a sampling of the remainder were uniformly unproductive.

With performers-and, with several exceptions, even the most renowned of them-we fared worst of all. Admittedly, such persons were often too busy to have committed ideas to paper, or to have preserved contracts or other documents which might reflect on their relationships with agents, composers, patrons, teachers, students, admirers, and fellow musicians. But even the more likely documents failed to turn up: autographed photo- graphs, programs, press clippings, and other personabilia, let alone the personal libraries of scores with penciled fingerings, phrasings, breath- ings, translations, and stage instructions. A whole history of performance

3D. H. Daugherty (ed.), A Report on Publication and Research in Musicology and Allied Fields in the United States (Washington, D.C.: American Council of Learned Societies, 1938), pp. 9-34: "Name-List of Some Persons Engaged in Research and Publication in Musicology and Allied Fields in the United States, 1932-1938."

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tradition and performers thus seems to be documented mostly in official, largely published sources; but perhaps the directory, once in print, will bring to light more of the primary source materials.

Limitations of the Directory

Meanwhile, as always seems to happen, the clock began to run out and the kitty began to run low. Administrative decisions, based on probabilities and special opportunities, became all the more ruthless, while ideals for the perfection of the final text became all the more elusive. For all its bulk and detail, the directory remains a first-generation work of scholarship, "little RAMH" next to the ideal and the appropriate reference book; still, the vision of the ideal could not have emerged except in terms of the directory as it took shape. At the very least, the directory as it stands can take credit for (1) defining an appropriate intellectual entity (i.e., the terminal date of ca. 1940 and the geographical definition both seem to hold fairly well), and (2) presenting-a wild guess-80 percent of the material relevant to that entity, with (3) a decent but not a formidable level of accuracy. The first of these is obviously the one we are most pleased with, while the third is surely the least satisfying. First generation or not, the facts ought to be right. And still, as the project neared its completion, one of the painful administrative decisions was to concen- trate our remaining efforts on gathering still more material, rather than in perfecting what had already been located; and I am convinced this was right.

The best statement of what is involved is the introduction to the index of the directory. It does seem unlikely, for instance, that "Juan B. Rael" and "Juan D. Rael", as listed in the index, are not in fact the same person (although the probabilities look less likely as one compares the references to each). The several hours it took in Urbana to confirm that "Thomas A. Radcliffe" and "T. E. Ratcliffe" were not the same person indicate the difficulties in finding definitive answers. The corespondence needed to settle all other such matters, of course, would have required the time of the repositories' staff members (already deluged by surveys, we are told). We decided instead to direct our efforts elsewhere, mostly in approaching still other potential repositories; thus to save the time of respondents, even at the expense of assigning potential errors to them; and to leave to future scholars the delightful exhilaration that comes from spotting a flaw in a reference book. We could argue that we were preparing a text for historians to use, and not doing their work for them; but this very attitude only tends to justify the low regard of scholars for librarians and bibliog- raphers. The ideal of Slonimskinian (Slonimskian? Slonimskonian? Slonimsquesque?) perfection, in any event, remains for another generation to achieve.

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Our last-minute efforts to turn up materials did prove to be enormously productive; among other things, they made the thick file of loose ends even thicker. Our basic original strategy had anticipated a general response in inverse proportion to the precision of the request. Thus the general mailings and the media announcements came first, mostly in 1977 and 1978; the personal letters and phone calls came later, mostly in 1978 and 1979. There were still the frequent letters returned undelivered in the summer and fall of 1979; too many unanswered phone calls and busy signals, not to mention the letters and calls we simply never had the time to write and to make in the first place. In some instances, the very next approach might have been the one which would have succeeded, turning up important information: but how could we be sure? Our untickled "tickler file" still runs to several hundred references; in addition, some of the repositories cited in the directory's supplemental lists (after each state) must surely deserve full entries in their own right. There were also the instances of having the material without knowing it (For instance, our extensive search for the "Estate of Charles Wakefield Cadman" in Los Angeles, after a number of West-Coast phone calls, eventually led back to the material we already had listed at Pennsylvania State University). For each such loose end, however, several new leads seemed to turn up in the course of asking for still further suggestions. In time, theoretically, this pattern should change; but as of November 1979, when the books were closed and the entries numbered for the index, the curve had yet to flip over.

The directory reflects the general state of affairs as of the end of 1979. A few events which took place soon afterwards could be mentioned, especially those which did not significantly affect either the length of the text or the indexing, while others which had taken place just previously simply did not come to our attention in time. It is unfortunate, for instance, that the coverage of Shaker music could not have reflected Daniel Patterson's splendid The Shaker Spiritual (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979), or that the eighteenth-century manuscript coverage could not have been based on James J. Fuld and Mary Wallace Davidson's 18th-Century American Secular Music Manuscripts (Phila- delphia: M.L.A., 1980), or the forthcoming list by Kate Van Winkle Keller; that no references will appear to the useful series of sketches of "Music Libraries and Resources of the Bay Area," now appearing in the California-Berkeley newsletter, CUM notis variorum; or that no mention could be made of other recent discoveries, publications, and dispositions. The addenda file is already beginning to develop, but any plans for a continuation of the project-whether through supplements, or continuing features, or a second edition-will of course need to be based on the critical reception of, and the experience in working with, the basic reference book itself.

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Finding material and describing it, meanwhile, are not as easily or as appopriately separated as one might think. Specifically, terminology proved to be a problem which took different forms as the work progressed. At first we needed to decide what to ask for: tunebooks, hymnals, song- books, singing manuals, or vocal anthologies? Manuscript books, holo- graphs and autographs, commonplace books, drafts, workbooks, sketches, working copies, or simply handwritten music? Asking for all of the above what was what we wanted to do: but specifying all of them would of course have sent our request into the wastebasket. Having decided to use the broadest and most colloquial concepts, we were then committed to a paraphrase of what information had been reported to us, for better or worse. Often as not it was good enough for the directory, and in fact likely to be peculiarly appropriate in that it reflected nuances of meaning used by those who had historically worked with the documents. But a careful study of the index, in the light of its own special introduction, will show that the problem of precise terms would not go away. The "Glossary of American Music," which we boldly planned several times, was eventually abandoned, and remains a hotch-potch of diagrammed sentences, Venn circles, cross references, and specific instances, seldom meaningful any more even to our editorial staff. The glossary remains implicit in the contents of the directory, awaiting patient yet inspired retrieval and systematic codification.

The argot of musicians-professional and amateur, in their different communities, at different times and in different places, and in different relationships to each other in the Great Historical Sociogram of American Music-calls out for a story all of its own. What exactly is a folio; a professional copy? In American instrumental music, what is the difference between a director and a conductor? The vocabulary of American music was more than our index could attempt to rationalize through a formal thesaurus, all the more so considering its basic function as a working index running to nearly 20,000 references. In fact, the substance of the American music vocabulary could and ought to subsume the arguments of several dozen dissertations. The problem would be simple if it could be viewed in the essentially logical framework of contemporary information studies. Unfortunately, other dimensions enter the picture as well, since a choice of term will imply (or worse, ever so subtly hint at) value judgments, hierarchies, and relationships, depending on who uses them, where, in talking to whom, and for what purpose.

Implications for Further Activities One subsidiary activity of the project requires special mention, this

being the Archival Records of American Music History program. (Its acronym of ARAMH was devised in part to inspire hopes of the parent

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project begetting a whole alphabet of offspring, ending perhaps with the Zoological Reformatory for American Music Historians. This conception is now in extended abeyance.) The Archival Records program, funded through a special grant from the Martha Baird Rockefeller Fund for Music, Inc., and then matched by NEH, comprised three activities: planning sessions and conference work, special work with specific musical organizations in the development of archival programs, and a "metropolitan music program" for locating materials in large urban centers. The program was devised in response to our difficulties in finding any more than the well-known resources in many large cities, and in our work with businesses, societies, and other organizations.

As a result of a special planning conference in Urbana on November 6-7, 1978, a panel was arranged for the annual meeting of the National Music Council in New York on January 10, 1979, at which H. Wiley Hitchcock and John Owen Ward helped plead the cause of national organizations and their members preserving their historical records.4 Related to this is a statement of "Archival Guidelines for Schools of Music,"5 prepared for the National Association of Schools of Music, and developed largely as a result of a special session at the Association's annual meeting of 1978, also involving Irving Lowens and Thomas Willis. Using the NASM statement as a model, other musical institutions and organizations, we hope, will be encouraged to develop archival programs and guidelines suited to their special needs. Such models should prove useful to music librarians as well, as they work on the cause of archival preservation.

Another ARAMH activity engaged several "metropolitan music consultants" to help in tracking down documents in large cities with reputations for a particularly rich musical past. The results in some cities were particularly impressive, although for others-Cincinnati, St. Louis, Milwaukee, Minneapolis-St. Paul, San Francisco, and Los Angeles in particular-turning up the right consultant was once again probably one phone call away from negotiation, and then, as other activities pressed in, past funding and accommodating administratively. Consultants were chosen on the basis of four qualifications: a reputed knowledge of local music history; recognition and respect as a member of the local musical community; persuasive skills in working with those who knew about or controlled the documents; and (an ideal, not always possible) indepen- dence of any one particular library or potential repository. The consultants' search was intended to cover all three kinds of local musical institutions: profit-making organizations (music manufacturers and pub-

4National Music Council Bulletin, vol. 38, no. 2 (Spring 1979), pp. 3, 5, 7. 5Available from the Association, 11250 Roger Bacon Drive, No. 5, Reston, Virginia 22090

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lishers of all kinds; retailers and distributors; concert halls, booking agents, and managers; also union locals, musical promotion specialists, and the like); nonprofit organizations (symphony orchestras, opera companies, choral groups, music schools and conservatories, churches, civic music programs, music clubs, folk and amateur performing groups, and the like); and musicians and other persons (composers, performers, teachers, impresarios, patrons, concert-goers, and music collectors). Such an assignment, in any city, is indeed vast, involving the search for contact, discovery of the disposition of the documentary records, and encourage- ment of a formal archival program in those instances where none existed.

The very existence of RAMH will plead the cause of scholarly access to and preservation of materials now held privately. And considering the cost of maintaining-organizing, cataloguing, storing, preserving, and providing access to-a collection, and remembering the financial difficulties which encumber most major repositories, specific commitments from repositories are important for owners of materials to consider. As a result of the RAMH directory, owners will no doubt be approaching repositories, and vice versa, the former probably asking more than they should, the latter probably offering more than they should. The range of treatment in repositories is obviously a wide one. At the one extreme are the instances of boxes being received and then stored, often with no record other than some person's memory, and occasionally with important items (or the whole collection) being lost. Donors deserve better than this. At the other extreme are the kinds of things professional archivists do (or want to do), from storage in acid-free folders to preparation of finding-aids and checklists. We must express the hope that music librarians will learn more about archival practices for handling materials, since for much of the historical source material described in RAMH, the customary library practices-full descriptive and subject cataloguing, binding for circula- tion, and the like-would appear to be quite misconceived.

The ultimate objective of RAMH, ARAMH, little RAMH and big RAMH alike, not to mention ewes (or in the South, youse-all) involves the enrichment of our knowledge of musical information and evidence, of all kinds of musical activities, continuing from the historical past into the political present. Historical documents, needed for future scholarly use, and current documents, needed for making decisions now, do need to be separated along flexible and pragmatic grounds. In devising a larger plan, each of these two categories should be then sub-divided, so as to separate those materials which are published or otherwise directed to as large an audience as possible, from those which are made available to a smaller audience, whether on grounds of confidentiality or limited demand. The four areas of interest can be displayed in diagram form-the horizontal axis

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AREA 1 AREA 2

Historical Publicized Current Publicized

Books, journals, etc., i.e., Newspapers, press releases, materials in library collections journal texts

AREA 3 AREA 4

Historical Available Current Available

Archival holdings: Circulated information:

A. Public A. Public

B. Restricted B. Restricted

for the dimension of time, the vertical for the circumstances of access.6 And from this diagram, three problems come into focus.

First, the passing and unsettling thought which occurs to music admin- istrators of all kinds: of the vast number of documents which pass across our desks-ephemeral announcements, reports, personal letters, memo- randa, and other messages and papers-what part of it ought to be preserved for the future? How can the documents be collected; sorted with a minimum of effort; selected so as to be of maximum significance to future readers (a big question, insofar as it is essentially a moral one); organized for use; and preserved with a minimum of redundancy, but with appropriate hedge against disaster? In terms of the diagram, how can the current publicized documents in area 2, and an appropriate part of the material in area 4, find their way into the musical archives in area 3?

Second, the problem of the music press: How can we improve our distribution channels for current musical information in areas 2 and 4? How can we, in our public relations effort, better "pinpoint" our audi- ences; and how can we, as potential recipients of current information, make sure that the right literature-in the right amount, at the right time, and in the right form for maximum effectiveness, however this may be defined-will pass across our desks?

6The subsequent text is largely similar to the communication which appeared in the Sonneck Society Newsletter, vol. 4, no. 3 (Fall 1979), pp. 10-11.

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Third, the problem of the music library information desk: A large portion of our inquiries relate to areas 2 and 4. For these, however, our resources consist of our catalogued collections-generally well-conceived holdings in area 1-and our "vertical file"-a random assemblage of holdings in areas 2 and 4. The task of the reference librarian must be seen as one not only of using sources to supply answers, but also as one of devising reference sources, in the form of books or circulars, data bases or cooperative services, which will increase the effectiveness and the effi- ciency of the library, preferably as cheaply as possible.

Working from its cut-off date of 1940, RAMH has provided an overview of the left-hand quadrants, 1 and 3, at least as they involve the United States. Its obvious significance will depend on its usefulness as a reference guide, to musicologists, historians, librarians, folklorists, and others. But its latent significance, we hope, will be reflected in its role in directing attention to the right-hand side of the chart as well, to the larger problem of musical information and the documents which embody it, in the musical life of today and tomorrow.

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little ramh, who made thee? observations on an american music census

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