Mike Tully asked to have “My Wild Irish Boy” played; Charlie Newton designated “My Old Kentucky Home” as his choice, and Lara C. Boone gave “St. Louis-Louis-Louis” as his favorite, all of which were rendered in the highest style of the art.
Joe Anderson, of Buffalo, would not be content until he had listened to “John Anderson, My Jo-John,” and Billy Thurman laughingly remarked that the occasion put him in mind of the summer evenings in Oregon along in 1883.
Everybody voted the entertainment a big success and all expressed a desire to have a repetition of the programme very soon.
Timothy Collins, who was one of the “Great 8” in Omaha, and who later became a guardian of the peace in Buffalo, passed up the sun-kissed walk, whistling “A Policeman’s Life is Not a Happy One,” and Court Cunningham suggested that record should be procured so Tim could get the right swing to the air, which suggestion was acceded to.
“These talking machines and the telegraph records beat those old harps we used to hear talked of in the Bible,” whispered Dick Tubman to his friend, Sam Cassidy, but the latter scouted the remark, declaring that the music of a jewsharp could not be excelled, and to verify his statement Sam gave a demonstration of an artist playing the jewsharp, which was received with applause.
“I don’t feel like criticizing your choice of music,” said John Leatch, recently of San Francisco, “but you really should turn back to the stirring melodies of California when they sang ‘Empty is the Cradle, Baby’s Gone.’”
“What a chestnut John Leatch has plucked,” echoed Captain James R. Dennis, as he smiled complacently at his old-time colleague.
“Get your partners for Lancer’s quadrille,” came in stentorian tones from the master of ceremonies pro tem, A. R. Pippitt, and many ladies, once familiarly known to the fraternity in Chicago, New York, St. Louis, Omaha, San Francisco and other places throughout the United States, joined hands with their brother operators and were presently whirling on the green sward to the sweet strains of Strauss’ Blue Danube waltz, which followed the more formal square dance.
The music was rendered by the miniature talking machine which had been entertaining the company all evening with songs, band melodies, telegraph records and now came in to be used for dance music.
It was surely a lovely scene and everyone in the vast assemblage had something nice to say about the great wizard of modern times, who has added so much, not only to the comfort of all mankind, but has found it practicable to have every household possess an instrument of joy forever, which will make life on the farm, the shepherd’s hovel, the Indian camp fire, in fact, every place in this vast world, more delightful by the music and delineations reproduced by the modern talking machine.