Accompanying 'The Square Deal Man' at ... wait, where is this place again?

Show yer cards, stranger!

Had a great time out in Niles, Calif. this weekend doing music for 'The Square Deal Man' (1917), a typically grim William S. Hart western.

The show was Saturday, May 7 at the venerable Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum.

That afternoon, I stopped by the museum to find myself pressed into service manning the front counter while a tour was given to a visiting group.

I was there long enough to give a phone caller bad info about using public transportation to reach the Museum. But he called back later, and all was sorted out.

I usually confine my damage to the keyboard, thank you very much.

As is often the case at Niles, the evening program opened with a pair of short comedies.

First up was 'Two-Gun Gussie' (1918), an early Lloyd "glasses character" one-reeler notable for its beginning.

The film opens with a close-up of hands on a piano keyboard in the midst of playing something devilishly complicated.

We discover it's Harold, a concert pianist. In full Paderewski mode, he wows the ladies by flinging himself at the keyboard, pausing for drama, and displaying a technique worthy of Chico Marx.

Harold tickles the ivories in 'Two-Gun Gussie.'

For this, I basically improvised a dissonant farrago on the opening theme of Beethoven's 5th Symphony, doing my best to match Lloyd's flamboyant gestures.

But I have to wonder how musicians handled this when the film was brand new, almost a century ago now. Probably the same way: not so much music but some kind of concert-hall sonic chaos to help the humor come across.

More challenging was 'Curses' (1925) a two-reel Al St. John parody of dramatic serials that even then were seen as full of clichés and conventions.

In scoring a film, I usually steer clear of what the general public might think of as "silent film music"—you know, that over-dramatic jangly piano sound.

But in this case, the goofy satire cried out for exactly that. So off I went, channeling all the Dudley Do-right music I recall absorbing as a child.

The best thing about this frantic parody (directed by no less than Roscoe 'Fatty' Arbuckle under the pseudonym William Goodrich) is how it's broken into several chapters, just like a real serial.

Although instead of waiting until next week, we just have to wait a few seconds for the film to resume. It's very well done and lends a meta-air to the film that comes across as knowing and snarky even today.

I'm familiar with this film in a DVD version produced by Paul Gierucki, which comes with intertitles that really punch up the comedy, I think.

However, Niles showed an older 16mm print with intertitles that lacked the same impact, I felt.

I don't believe either set of intertitles was original to 'Curses.'

But it's a good example of how a sensitive restoration can make a difference in how a film plays. 'Curses' was enjoyed by all last Saturday night, but I felt the Gierucki titles would have made it click even more.

The Hart film, which I'd never seen, turned out to be just as over-the-top as the Al St. John comedy. But in Hart's case, he really meant it.

So I played it straight, building the score out of a pair melodic lines I brought with me: a "masculine" modal-sounding signature for Hart, and a "feminine" motif for more tender moments.

(There I go gender-stereotyping again.)

A third unplanned melody, for the Mexican antagonist, added some Latin flavor to the scoring. So it all came together nicely.

Although Hart films come across as a bit austere, I think people slowly became absorbed as the story unfolded.

By the end, I think the audience was with 'The Square Deal Man,' and deservedly so. Although it's no 'Hell's Hinges,' it's one I'd certainly program and run again.

Hart, by the way, is one of those performers I've yet to fully discover and appreciate.

I've never done 'Tumbleweeds' (1925), his final film, which is supposed to be good. And although many titles are lost, enough survive so that there's plenty to explore.

But you know Hart's one of the biggies because he and his middle initial show up in lyrics to 'Movies Were Movies,' the opening number of Jerry Herman's musical 'Mack and Mabel.'

And Swanson and Keaton and Dressler and William S. Hart!
No one pretended that what we were doing was art!

Let me tell you, I can relate to that.

By the way, kudos to my brother-in-law, who managed to get not one but two of his Facebook colleagues to attend the screening and check out the Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum.

Employer-matched contributions can't be far behind, right?

Looking forward to possibly being out there again in the fall: the first week of November seems to be my time.

Depending on who gets elected, I may be in the process of fleeing. We'll have to see.

Off to the Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum, then it's back for 10 screenings in 11 days

Vintage viewing: the 1913 Edison theater where films are screened at the Essenay Silent Film Museum.

I'm heading West, young man (or whoever is reading this) to accompany a program this weekend at the venerable Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum out in the San Francisco Bay area.

The Niles Museum is special in part because they're one of the few venues anywhere that runs silent film shows every week on a year-round basis.

This gives them the chance to screen a wide variety of at-time obscure titles seldom shown elsewhere.

A good example is the program I'm accompanying on Saturday, May 7: the main attraction is 'The Square Deal Man,' a 1917 western starring William S. Hart as a professional gambler with the amazing name of Jack O. Diamonds.

Geez, I wonder if he's ever been in a card game before?

Deal me in!

A pair of comedies round out the bill: 'Two-Gun Gussie,' an early Lloyd "glasses character" one-reeler from 1918, and 'Curses!' an Al St. John two-reeler from 1925 directed by Roscoe 'Fatty' Arbuckle in exile.

Like I said: running silent films every week, you can't rely on 'Metropolis' or 'The General.' Niles gives all the other films a chance to be experienced as originally intended: on the big screen, with live music, and in a theater with an audience.

I want to thank Dorothy Fields and all the other great folks at Niles for giving me the chance to do music there.

I enjoy it so much, I almost feel guilty for programming 'Old San Francisco' (1927) earlier this year, a film which climaxes with a recreation of the 1906 earthquake that destroyed San Francisco.

As an accompanist, what I like about Niles is that when I'm there, I get a sense I'm part of an ongoing tradition.

For one thing, the town is where the Essanay company produced a lot of film in the 1910s, Also, the nickelodeon-style Edison theater itself (separate from the studio) was opened in 1913.

And because silent film is run so regularly (as opposed to it being a special or "unusual" event), the place to me feels different from any other space in which I've accompanied silent film.

I don't know. It might be the continuity of weekly programming causes some kind of silent film karma to build up over time.

But sitting before the sturdy upright house piano, I find it amazingly easy to forget myself and slip into "silent film accompaniment" mode.

Who knows? It might be the floor wax they use. But there's something special about the place, and I feel privileged to be able to return for another spell on the bench.

By the way, the only week the Niles theater suspends its silent schedule is the weekend of the big San Francisco Silent Film Festival, which this year is June 2-5.

So any board members or others connected with this prestigious event: come check out the show in Niles this weekend. It's just a short ride across the Bay.

Hey, an accompanist can dream, can't he?

And there's this guy from the backwoods of New Hampshire who would love a chance to be considered for accompanist slots that open up for any future festivals.

Hint! Hint!

Hey, I'm accompanying William S. Hart this weekend. You're expecting subtlety?

After I head back East, a glance at the calendar finds I'm accompanying pretty much a show every day from Thursday, May 12 through Saturday, May 21.

Wow. I'm not sure how this happened, but I'm booked for nine separate performances during those 11 days, including two on Sunday, May 15.

They're spread across four states: Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Massachusetts.

And the run culminates with a quick trip to the Packard Center of the Library of Congress in Culpeper, Va., where I'm doing music for an afternoon program on Saturday, May 21.

So there goes May!

But seriously—I'm delighted at the prospect of settling into a series of shows, as I find I gain fluency and confidence as the run wears on.

Or at least I think so, anyway.

And yes, you do get punchy. Sometimes, in the midst of a heavy accompaniment cycle, I find the reflex is hard to turn off.

I find myself coming up with music as I go through daily life. Walking to the car in the parking lot: pesante octaves in the bass. Getting in the car: F major triad with a B natural to add a glint of light.

But then again, it might be the floor wax.