Stuff You Should Know - What was Tin Pan Alley?

Episode Date: May 23, 2019

Tin Pan Alley was an area of New York around the beginning of the 20th Century that served as ground zero for the earliest iterations of the music publishing industry. Learn all about this unique place and time right now.  Learn more about your ad-choices at https://www.iheartpodcastnetwork.comSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

On the podcast, Hey Dude, the 90s called, David Lasher and Christine Taylor, stars of the cult classic show, Hey Dude, bring you back to the days of slip dresses and choker necklaces. We're gonna use Hey Dude as our jumping off point, but we are going to unpack and dive back into the decade of the 90s.

We lived it, and now we're calling on all of our friends to come back and relive it. Listen to Hey Dude, the 90s called on the iHeart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, I'm Lance Bass, host of the new iHeart podcast, Frosted Tips with Lance Bass. Do you ever think to yourself, what advice would Lance Bass

and my favorite boy bands give me in this situation? If you do, you've come to the right place because I'm here to help. And a different hot, sexy teen crush boy bander each week to guide you through life. Tell everybody, ya everybody, about my new podcast and make sure to listen so we'll never, ever have to say. Bye, bye, bye.

Listen to Frosted Tips with Lance Bass on the iHeart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. Welcome to Step You Should Know, a production of iHeart radios, How Stuff Works. Hey, and welcome to the podcast, I'm Josh Clark, and there's Charles W. Chuck Bryant, and there's Jerry over there,

and this is Step You Should Know, the superstar edition. The old-timey superstar edition. Yeah, man. I thought this was super cool. It's 10 Pan Alley. Yeah, this is one of those things where I sort of knew what 10 Pan Alley was,

and you always have heard that term thrown around, but I never really, really got it until this episode. Yeah, same here. And it's pretty cool, like the term 10 Pan Alley, T-I-N, full stop, P-A-N, alley. You forgot a second full stop there. Full stop. I just want to make sure people know

it's not one word, like 10 Pan. Right. It's two words. But that is, linguistically speaking, that's a Sinecta key. What? It is, you know what that is, right? I've seen the movie.

Man, that movie, geez. You're talking about the Charlie Kaufman thing, right? Sure, yeah. Yeah, Sinecta key, New York. Yeah, so a Sinecta key is, it's when a specific place stands in for a broader term, like Wall Street, like Wall Street's a real street, but Wall Street also means like the finance industry.

Right. Or Hollywood, Hollywood's a real place. Oh, okay, this makes a lot more sense than the Charlie Kaufman movie. Yeah, so 10 Pan Alley is a bunch of things. It was a place, and in New York City, which we'll get to in a second, like exactly where, and it was also referred to sort of the beginnings

of the music publishing industry and genre as well. Yep. There's kind of a lot of things, but it stems from the root of a 10 Pan, like a 10 Pan or a, was a cheap piano. Like if you had a really cheap piano, you would say it sounds 10 Pan-y. Right, because like that's what the hammer

on the piano's hitting is 10 Pan's rather than strings. Yeah, it sounds just like a real tinny tone, like you're beating on a 10 Pan. So that's where the term originally came from. And depending on who you ask, this area of New York was called 10 Pan Alley, because perhaps a journalist first wrote about it, all the sounds coming from the songwriters

from these buildings on this one block sounded like 10 Pan Alley. Right, it's no exaggeration to say 10 Pan Alley, specifically this little stretch in New York, like a block or so, maybe less than a block, I think. It's a block. Okay, was the place where the American popular music industry was born?

Yeah, so it's specifically 28th Street between Sixth and Broadway, kind of between Chelsea and Kips Bay, a little northwest of like the Flatiron building. Gotcha. And it's interesting to think that like the music, the beginnings of music distribution wasn't like pre-phonograph and pre-records.

There was still music distribution, but it was sheet music. Right, right, so I think, Chuck, we should get back in the way of Back Machine and go to an indeterminate part of the mid-19th century in the United States. Let's do it. So like you said,

There's horse poop everywhere. There's a lot of it. It's like you said, if you wanted to hear music, you had basically two choices. You could go hear it played live somewhere, everywhere from a barbershop quartet to maybe an orchestra. Maybe on board. Right, or you could have a family member

who knew how to play music and buy a piano and have it in your home. Those were your two ways to hear music because everywhere there was no such thing as radio. Let's just say it everybody, there was no radio. There wasn't, and if you think about it, radio was, we take it so much for granted today, but it was a huge watershed change

in the way that Americans in the world heard their music. You could just hear it at home being played by professionals, like the greatest musicians you've ever heard, you could just sit around and listen to it at your home, whereas just years before, a few years before, you had to listen to your 12-year-old try to bang out some song on the piano that you just bought. And that was your option aside from going to hear it live.

And so this whole idea of the music industry being born, it was basically predicated on two things, Chuck. One was the fact that pianos were starting to become ubiquitous in American houses and people were learning how to play those pianos. So music instruction became kind of widespread. And then secondly, copyright law started to really solidify in the United States in the 19th century.

And so that sheet music became much more valuable than it was before. Yeah, like if you can't, like I can't read sheet music. I learned. I can't either. Yeah, I learned to play guitar by ear. And kind of, I guess every friend I know that it's a musician, except for a couple, learned by ear.

If you came up formally through high school band or something like that, or maybe just private music instruction, then you may be able to read music. But back in the day, if you could not, and still today, if you could not play by ear, the only way to do so was through sheet music. And that was the first commodity in the music business

was literally just selling sheet music to people. Right, so before- It's hard to wrap your head around now, but that was the commodity. It is hard to wrap your head around, but if you think about sheet music as basically the predecessor to the cassette or the record or the CD or the MP3,

it's the exact same thing. It's just to hear it, like that is what you went and bought at the store, and then you came home and played it rather than listening to somebody else playing it. Yeah, and like they sold a lot of them. Like the very first hit that Tin Pan Alley put out, and this was a period, I mean, this was in 1881

when Wait Till the Clouds Roll By was put out. So Tin Pan Alley generally was early 1880s till early 1920s or so. I saw like late 1920s, was it really? Yeah, I guess, you know, you can never say when it was dead, dead. Right. But in one month in 1881,

they sold 75,000 copies of sheet music to Wait Till the Clouds Roll By. Right. That's amazing. Yeah, because it was a good song, and people wanted to hear the song, so they went and bought the sheet music. So that was one thing, right?

So there was sheet music. That was how you got this stuff out. But even before Wait Till the Clouds Roll By, which it seems like it was probably America's first number one smash hit. Yeah, pop music. Prior to that, there was plenty of sheet music to be sold, but it was largely like church hymns.

Zoring. It was, there was a lot that were sold for schools, and like I said, copyright law changed. It allowed Tim Pan Alley to develop, and it did so in two ways. One, like the courts started taking copyrights for music seriously in the second half of the 19th century. So you could actually enforce your copyright

against people who were infringing on it. And then secondly, the courts, the Supreme Court specifically said, hey, if you wrote a song outside of America, when it comes to America, it enjoys, you can copyright it in America too, which means that the music publisher source of free sheet music,

which was just basically stealing foreign music, printing it out in sheet music form, and then selling it and not paying any royalties because it enjoyed no copyright protection, that source dried up. And so all of a sudden, this American music that they had to pay for now seemed a lot more attractive because now they had to pay for the music

generated overseas too. So this is copyright law and the fact that more and more people were learning to play piano, and so you had an actual market for sheet music, those two things came together. All right, let's take a break. I feel like that's a pretty good setup. Okay.

And we'll come back and talk a little bit about who these music publishers were and how they went about their work early on in the Tim Pan Alley era, right after this. Hey dude, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go. On the podcast, Hey Dude, the 90s called David Lasher and Christine Taylor, stars of the cult classic show, Hey Dude,

bring you back to the days of slip dresses and choker necklaces. We're gonna use Hey Dude as our jumping off point, but we are going to unpack and dive back into the decade of the 90s. We lived it and now we're calling on all of our friends to come back and relive it. It's a podcast packed with interviews,

co-stars, friends, and non-stop references to the best decade ever. Do you remember going to Blockbuster? Do you remember Nintendo 64? Do you remember getting Frosted Tips? Was that a cereal? No, it was hair. Do you remember AOL Instant Messenger

and the dial-up sound like poltergeist? So leave a code on your best friend's beeper because you'll want to be there when the nostalgia starts flowing. Each episode will rival the feeling of taking out the cartridge from your Game Boy, blowing on it and popping it back in as we take you back to the 90s.

Listen to Hey Dude, the 90s, called on the iHeart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, I'm Lance Bass, host of the new iHeart podcast, Frosted Tips with Lance Bass. The hardest thing can be knowing who to turn to when questions arise or times get tough or you're at the end of the road.

Ah, okay, I see what you're doing. Do you ever think to yourself, what advice would Lance Bass and my favorite boy bands give me in this situation? If you do, you've come to the right place because I'm here to help. This, I promise you. Oh, God.

Seriously, I swear. And you won't have to send an SOS because I'll be there for you. Oh, man. And so will my husband, Michael. Um, hey, that's me. Yep, we know that, Michael. And a different hot, sexy teen crush boy bander

each week to guide you through life, step by step. Oh, not another one. Kids, relationships, life in general can get messy. You may be thinking, this is the story of my life. Oh, just stop now. If so, tell everybody, yeah, everybody about my new podcast and make sure to listen. So we'll never, ever have to say bye, bye, bye.

Listen to Frosted Tips with Lance Bass on the iHeart Radio App, Apple Podcast, or wherever you listen to podcasts. All right, so we've been throwing around the term music publishers a lot. And that sort of means a different thing now than it did back then. Yeah, it does.

But back then, music publishers, some of them wrote songs, to be sure. But generally, they did not. A lot of the early publishers out of Tin Pan Alley had backgrounds as salespeople. Right. So there was a guy named, a very successful publisher named Isidore Whitmark.

He started outselling water filters. Another one named Leo Feist sold corsets. Another one named Joe Stern and Edward B. Mark sold neckties and buttons. And a lot of these people, I guess we should point out, too, came over from Europe. A lot were Jewish. Some African-American songwriters,

like they were minorities, kind of for the most part, early on, it feels like. Right, and they saw a huge opportunity in this music business that was starting to coalesce. Because prior to this, I mean, there were music publishers, but it was basically some guy who worked at a printer who had a friend who could transpose music by ear. And they would just take some song that they heard

and turn it into sheet music and start selling it. Or they worked at the music store. And the music store basically did the exact same thing. And so everyone was ripping off everyone else's songs. And anybody could be a music publisher. But when those copyrights started to become enforced, it became much more valuable to invest in original music because you could make a lot more money off of it.

So a lot of those Jewish immigrants and a lot of the African-American songwriters and composers kind of coalesced into New York. They came from Boston and Detroit and Atlanta and St. Louis and all over the country. And all those towns lost their publishing houses. And they all moved to New York. And they very specifically moved to this one little stretch

on 28th Street. And it became Tim Pan Alley. Yeah, and it's really interesting to look at how it worked back then and how it sort of mirrored how music grew out of that model, really, and changed in some ways. But kind of stayed the same in a lot of ways, too. Like you always hear about music contracts

and how terrible they are for rock musicians or pop musicians. And it was kind of the same way back then. These publishers got together. They created this songwriting factory on this block of buildings through different companies. And they would recruit songwriters to come in. They had different arrangements. Sometimes they would just buy it outright from you,

including the rights to change the name of who wrote it. Sometimes they would have the right to throw one of the other more, I guess, once they had established themselves, another co-author's name on there. But they would just say, write these songs. Write these songs. And we're going to buy them from you.

And we're going to try and make them pop like you couldn't put them on the radio. So we're going to try and get them popular by getting them on to vaudeville and on stage and sending not in moles, I guess, but it was almost like early Paola. Sending these performers into vaudeville to sing these songs and perform these songs.

And people are like, well, that's pretty catchy. I want that. Right. That's how they marketed it. And that was like the whole thing. Like if you, it was the first time that music became an industry, because there was almost an assembly line field to it

where they would have feelers out to find out like what people were into as music at the time. One of the early transitions that Tim Panale underwent was when it started, it was a factory for churning out like comedic, often deeply racist songs, lots of ballads, just what you think of as super old-timey songs, right? And then the public started to get kind of bored with that.

And they decided that they kind of like this ragtime thing that the Scott Joplin fella has started to create. And so Tim Panale, this is classic Tim Panale, went out, figured out how to play ragtime, started co-opting the ragtime genre and created pop music. So they took what was a really difficult kind of music. It's called syncopated rhythm where you've got a melody within a rhythm, right?

So you know ragtime, right? Sure. Okay. So they figured out how to take this very difficult thing and kind of popify it to make it easy for the audience to play. Because again, here's the thing. They're not saying, hey, you're the best

of the best studio musician. We've got this really tough song over here that sounds great, but it's really tough to play. We wanna pay you to come play it. We're gonna record it and distribute it onto the radio. That didn't exist yet. They had to figure out how to take difficult songs, kind of dumb them down into something catchy and memorable

and importantly, easy to play so that they could sell that sheet music to local musicians or those barbershop quartets or so that the 12-year-old at home could play it for the rest of their family. And so that is how they kind of started to take popular music and make it even more popular. They decided what music was popular

based on what America was starting to get into at the time. Yeah, and there were these musicians called song pluggers. So how it would work is a music publisher in 10 Pan Alley would buy a song or the rights to a song off of a musician who wrote it, maybe put their own name on it and then they would give that song to a song plugger

who was a musician who would go and perform this at a music shop that maybe sold pianos or something like that. And this was pre-radio how they got the music out in the public and it was crazy. These song pluggers got money. Irving Berlin started out as a song plugger. Right, and so it's kind of like,

if you, you know how you go to a grocery store on a Saturday and they'll be sitting there giving out samples of something. Sure. And you'll say, oh, this, this cheese with this cracker tastes really good. I'm going to go buy this cheese and these crackers. This is the exact same thing,

except you would say, oh, this song sounds really good. I'm going to buy the sheet music. That's what music pluggers were for. That's how they got the word out. They, that's how they advertised the music was to play them. And then another way to do it, Chuck, is like you were saying, they would set vaudeville shows up or musical reviews

or Broadway shows, whatever, with these popular songs and these songwriters to help get them out that way too. So the audiences would go hear these things. So you could hear them in the music shop. You could hear them at the theater. You might hear them, well, that's basically it. Is the theater in the music shop

where the two main venues, unless I'm forgetting one. Yeah, and they would, that was the plugging, but it was also booming. So like I said, you had Irving Berlin and like George Gershwin started out as a song plugger. Al Sherman started out as a song plugger. But if you wanted to be more aggressive than that even, you could do something called booming,

which is you would buy like 25 tickets to a show. You would have the plugger up there playing the song. And then those 25 people were plants basically that already knew the song that would sing along to it. And then everyone, you know, the only thing better than hearing a great song for the first time in, you know, 1910 in New York City is hearing 25 people around you singing it

and you're thinking, how have I been missing out on this thing? Right. And that may be the first time it was ever performed in public. It's awesome. And it was all just a big, kind of a big scam. It was, it's hilarious though.

That's how you just look around and suddenly be overcome with FOMO. So you'd be into this new song and run out and buy the sheet music, I guess. Early FOMO. So there was this process to all this. And then like you said, like you could be a, like a no name composer who would show up at Tim Pan Alley

with the song that you're trying to sell. And if it was good, the publisher might buy it. But like you said, you would get some sort of terrible contractor, they would buy it outright, take your name off of the composition and put their own name on there. But they also hired composers, I think like you were saying too, where they were,

they had a few hits under their belt. So they had a steady gig at the music publisher and their contract was a little better, but they were not in creative control for the most part. It's where the music publisher would say, hey, everybody's into this ragtime. Make me some ragtime songs. Everybody's into this jazz and this blues stuff.

Make me some bluesy kind of stuff that I can turn around and sell. And the competition was really fierce among the in-house composers. Because just because you composed a song doesn't mean it was going to be turned around and transcribed into sheet music. And then people would buy it.

Like you had to basically audition your song to see whether it made it to the next level. And so in Tim Pan Alley, and this is where it got its name, there would be no name composers, house composers, vaudeville acts, all running around playing music from these open windows because there wasn't air conditioning back then.

And so at any given time, you'd walk down Tim Pan Alley and there'd be a dozen or scores of different songs all being played on these pianos, streaming out of the windows onto the street at the same time. And that's where that reporter Monroe Rosenfeld came up with the idea of Tim Pan Alley.

He said when he was walking down the street, he was kind of describing what that was like. He said it sounded like a bunch of Tim Pan's being struck at once. Yeah, and this whole area of New York, this one block, just really became like a creative well. There were vaudeville theaters, there were play theaters. Like it was sort of the earliest incarnation

of the theater district before it moved toward Times Square. And then other parts of the entertainment industry obviously are drawn to that area. Variety magazine, that's where it first popped up on that block when it was called The Clipper. The William Morris Tallinn Agency had an office on that block. And it was just sort of the,

after I think Boston, Chicago, Cincinnati, and I think one other city kind of were the early seats of the early music industry. It all roundly landed in New York and just such a creative area and era. It's so neat to think about too, because that's happened in places before where if you take a bunch of creative people

and jam them into a small area, just amazing stuff happens. Like you can do something as big as birth, a genre of music or like pop music, which is like an umbrella. It's not even a genre. There's genres underneath pop music, you know? Where something that big can happen when you get that many creative people together in one place.

Should we take another break? Sure. All right, let's take another break and we'll talk about some of these songs, these composers in the Great American Songbook right after this. Hey, go, send it, go, drive it, go, drive it, go. On the podcast, Hey Dude, the 90s called

David Lasher and Christine Taylor, stars of the cult classic show, Hey Dude, bring you back to the days of slip dresses and choker necklaces. We're gonna use Hey Dude as our jumping off point, but we are going to unpack and dive back into the decade of the 90s. We lived it, and now we're calling on all of our friends

to come back and relive it. It's a podcast packed with interviews, co-stars, friends, and non-stop references to the best decade ever. Do you remember going to Blockbuster? Do you remember Nintendo 64? Do you remember getting Frosted Tips? Was that a cereal?

No, it was hair. Do you remember AOL Instant Messenger and the dial-up sound like poltergeist? So leave a code on your best friend's beeper, because you'll want to be there when the nostalgia starts flowing. Each episode will rival the feeling of taking out the cartridge from your Game Boy,

blowing on it and popping it back in as we take you back to the 90s. Listen to Hey Dude, the 90s called on the iHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, I'm Lance Bass, host of the new iHeart podcast, Frosted Tips with Lance Bass. The hardest thing can be knowing

who to turn to when questions arise or times get tough or you're at the end of the road. Ah, okay, I see what you're doing. Do you ever think to yourself, what advice would Lance Bass and my favorite boy bands give me in this situation? If you do, you've come to the right place because I'm here to help.

This, I promise you. Oh, God. Seriously, I swear. And you won't have to send an SOS because I'll be there for you. Oh, man. And so, my husband, Michael. Um, hey, that's me.

Yep, we know that, Michael. And a different hot, sexy teen crush boy bander each week to guide you through life step by step. Oh, not another one. Kids, relationships, life in general can get messy. You may be thinking, this is the story of my life. Just stop now. If so, tell everybody, yeah, everybody

about my new podcast and make sure to listen so we'll never, ever have to say bye, bye, bye. Listen to Frosted Tips with Lance Bass on the iHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. All right, so there's money being made. Yeah, Ted. A lot of money, even for early on.

I mean, I can't imagine what sheet music costs, but they were selling so much of it. It added up. Irving Berlin, I mean, he went on to start his own music publishing business, but early on when he was just pumping out tunes. In 1917, he made about $100,000 a year in royalties. Yeah, that's $1917 too, right?

Yeah, and these songs, these are some standards. It's what's known as the Standard American Songbook. Just like, it's an unofficial designation, but they're considered to be the classics of the early 20th century. I mean, we all still know these songs, stuff like Ain't She Sweet? I don't know that one.

Ain't she sweet? You're mucking down the street. What? You don't know that song? No, that one I've not heard. Oh boy, do you know Babyface? Yes. Got the cutest little Babyface?

Yes, I love that song. It makes me smile every time. By the light of the silvery moon, give my regards to Broadway. Sure. Happy days are here again. Over there, a lot of this had to do with early wartime stuff.

Sweet Georgia Brown, take me out to the ball game. Yeah, and that in particular, we gotta say, that was written by two guys, Jack Norworth and Albert von Tilzer. Yeah. 1908. And they'd never seen a ball game before. Well, maybe that's what they were saying.

But they were like, please. The original lyrics take me out to the ball game because I've never been. Exactly. And they changed that line. But that was so Tim Panale, like where it's like everybody's into baseball right now. So let's make a song about baseball.

You too, we've never seen a baseball game. Doesn't matter, make me a song. And that's how to take me out to the ball game was formed. Yeah. And I think under one of the, like you said earlier, some of the earliest work were like kind of humorous comedy songs, one that still stands out today, I believe from that genre is, yes, we have no bananas.

Which I always thought was kind of funny when I was a kid. It's a little funny. And I guess I still do, if I'm being honest. There was also, yeah, you can go down this line and there's some pretty substantial songs that were written during this time. And not all of them were standalone. A lot of them, like I said earlier,

were created for musical reviews. America the Beautiful was written by Irving Berlin for a musical review called Yip Yip Yap Hank, which no one has heard of. No one knows that anymore. But it was meant to be performed and produced by soldiers. Had an eight-show run. But the song, obviously America the Beautiful

has survived long beyond that because it became an American standard. So like these vehicles that were built around to kind of get the song out there to the public, fade it away, but the songs themselves have stood the test of time. Yeah, absolutely. I think you pulled it from that production.

Or was it in the original production or did he pull it? I think it was in the original one. Well, he eventually pulled it out of the production then because he thought it was too sentimental. And then that song went on to be the one that everyone remembers. Yeah, you're right. You're right.

I'm sorry it didn't show up in there. But you also said, so you mentioned Irving Berlin forming his own publishing house. He was a quintessential rags to riches story for Tim Pan Alley. Where he was like a waiter in a cafe, became a songplugger, one of those guys who plays songs to basically his marketing, couldn't read sheet music,

knew everything by ear, had a friend transpose the songs he came up with into actual written music. That's a pretty good little factoid there. The Irving Berlin couldn't read or write music. Right. And then he became a well-known composer and then he became such a well-known composer he opened his own publishing house

and then started making $100,000 a year in royalties. Amazing. And then another guy named Charles K. Harris who was one of the earlier success stories. I think in 1893 or two, he had a song called After the Ball and he just knew it was a gem because he offered it to a publisher

and they offered him a price for it that he was like, that's way too low. I'm gonna set up my own publishing house and he did and he started selling it and was making something like $25,000 a week in 1890s money, which is like 700 grand a week. Look out. This guy just went from nobody to 700 grand a week,

ended up selling five million copies of his song After the Ball and if you listen to it now it's not that good, frankly. It's not but bully for him. It's no ain't she sweet. No. Yeah, it's amazing, man. People like popular music hit the world

like a lightning bolt from the beginning. Yes, because it was so ultra tailored for the American public. Like again, they would take Ragtime which there was a Scott Joplin creation and Scott Joplin was the son of a slave. He was an African-American. Yeah, a lot of people thought he was white.

Still to this day, a lot of people think he was white. I think because of his name, frankly. And it was the predecessor to Ragtime was the predecessor to jazz and it had like a real like feel to a real soul. Everybody's heard like some of the original Ragtime music like The Entertainer or Maple Leaf Rag. And if you can't immediately bring those to mind

just go to YouTube and you'll be like, oh, okay, of course I get that. But the idea that Tim Pan Alley could just kind of come along and take this cool deep soulful music and popify it basically to make it palatable to audiences in particular white audiences who had the most money at the time. That was why it became so successful.

It was almost dumbed down. It was music that was dumbed down in a way to make it appeal to as many people as possible. Yeah, or even worse co-opted by white publishers and producers to be used in minstrel shows. This version of music, this new genre of music that was so unique in the Harlem Renaissance by Scott Joplin was co-opted for minstrel shows.

So shameful. Yeah, so there's a real debate going on now about the legacy of Tim Pan Alley in some ways. And some people point to it and say, look, these guys were churning out the most eye-poppingly racist songs that America has ever come up with. Yeah, some to be sure.

They were selling them to the masses. And in doing this, because this was the origin of popular music, they were really effectively perpetuating racial stereotypes and embedding them more than they ever had been before because people were not being mass audiences were being reached like they were with this early sheet music.

And so in this respect, Tim Pan Alley doesn't deserve to be revered or respected. Or designated as a historical landmark as the real fight. Yeah, that's like as recently as like last month, I believe Chuck, there was a landmark commission, city landmark commission meeting where this was being debated, right? Well, yeah, and so like you said,

some people were saying that on one hand, other people are saying, yeah, but so many of these were Jewish immigrants, an ethnic minority. So many of them were African-American songwriters. And Tim Pan Alley was also the home to the first black-owned and operated music publishing business in the country.

Yeah, some people are saying, look, like yes, it was taken and co-opted to be popular, but so were operettas and ballads. Like that's just what they did. It wasn't meant to be offensive to African-Americans. And as a matter of fact, it was basically these Jewish immigrants saying, I kind of identify with your plight.

I wanna preserve and celebrate this and expose this music to as many people as possible. And that some people pointed this process in Tim Pan Alley as the way that the African-American arts became exposed to the larger population of America at the time. Yeah, it's pretty interesting. Yeah, so that debate's going on. That's where the idea of whether or not

this area should be designated as an historic landmark is falling, right? Yeah, and like you said, it's kind of hard to pinpoint an actual death date of Tim Pan Alley, because these things like that happen gradually over time, but technology like it has so many other times kind of killed the notion of Tim Pan Alley, didn't it?

That's a really good point, right? Like with the radio? It was the radio. Radio killed the old-timey sheet music star. And then video killed the radio star. Right, exactly. So again, you didn't need to make sheet music any longer or you certainly didn't have to learn

to play sheet music at home if you wanted to enjoy music. If you could just buy a radio. Yeah, people quit buying pianos and it's kind of sad. It is sad. It would be nice if everybody was walking around and knew how to play a piano. Like hotel lounges would be a lot more interesting, right? Yeah.

But that's, I mean, once the radio came along, everybody said, so long sheet music, I hated you all along, but you were my only option. Now I can listen to like Benny Goodman and all of these other cats who are super hip and really good at what they're doing. And I want to listen to their music. And not only did technology kill Tim Pan Alley

in this sheet music publishing industry, but it also changed the genre a little bit. It kind of skewed it more into swing and some of this, yeah, big band, some of the stuff that came out of the 30s onward. That was really kind of where that transition went. Yeah, have you ever been somewhere where they have a public piano

and seen someone just walk by and sit down and blow minds? Didn't you see Greg Allman do that? No, my God, no. If you know someone who saw that, please try and remember who it was because I need to hear that story. I'll try to remember, I can't remember who it was. That's pretty amazing.

Okay. I don't think I'm making this up. Let me go back through my- That sounds too specific. Mental Rolodex, but have you ever seen that? Sure, just like you're, I mean, not Greg Allman, but I've just seen your regular average person sit down at a piano and like, wow, someone,

New York does this from time to time. They'll have them on a sidewalk or in a park or something and in Atlanta, they have one over in Atlantic Station. I've seen people do it there. And it's always just really cool. And that makes me miss the fact that piano, like a lot more people used to learn piano than they do now, I think.

I would love to know how to play the piano. Me too. Let's say it all the time. For that very reason, because I'd love to be able to sit down and just play- I want to be that guy so bad. Right.

Some day, Chuck, it's not too late. I remember the first time I saw it was at a student council retreat in high school. There was this one, you know, all the student councils from the county get together over the course of a weekend or a weekend and do stupid stuff and learn about leadership. But there was this, there's always like this one guy

on student council at another school. You're like, man, he didn't seem like a student council type. He seems like he's 30. This guy did. And he was on student council at some other school, but he was like, you know, had like the rat t-shirt and was just sort of a,

like a dirty metalhead. The bad boy of student council? He totally was. And there was a piano in one of the lobbies of the dormitories where we stayed at Barry College in Rome, Georgia. And on the very last day, there were a bunch of people hanging out in there

and this dude goes over and sits down and just crushes it. And I remember seeing the girls in the room and thinking, that guy has got it all going on. Like that's the key, man. And that boy in the rat t-shirt grew up to be Greg Almond. Have you ever been to a SIG Golds request room in New York? No, what's that? Yumi's friend Joe McGinty owns it.

He's co-owner of it and he plays piano there. It's just like sing-along piano karaoke. Oh wow. And it is amazing. I cannot believe you haven't been there yet. You have. So does one person play the piano and everyone sings along? Joe McGinty plays and then no,

like people can sing along if you want, but it's really one person going up there and doing karaoke with Joe accompanying you on the piano. Oh, okay. Well, I've done the rock and roll live band karaoke before. Oh yeah. Here in Atlanta, which is a lot of fun. Okay.

Where do you do that? Somewhere in the Highlands, I think the Dark Horse maybe? Okay, yeah, that sounds right. Yeah, I went for my birthday a couple of years ago and did Cheap Trick Surrender and did a pretty good job, if I may say so. Is that Surrender parentheses dream police? No, those are two different songs.

Oh, okay. Is it Surrender parentheses I want you to want me? Yeah, that's the one. Okay. I've heard that song before. But it's funny at the one in Atlanta, there's the DJ English Nick. No, wait, was he on like the radio, like Radio DJ?

Yeah, he still is. Sure. English Nick in Atlanta. He hosts it and he is the emergency backup, if you're no good, because being bad at karaoke is no fun, but being bad at live band karaoke, it's really no fun for anyone. So he stands back there and if you're not very good,

he's singing along with you and he will just give the signal to sort of do a little upping of his vocals and lowering of the other vocals. Is it like the slice across your neck like that? No, I mean, I think it's just like an eye signal. I got you. And I remember being nervous. I was like, oh man, if they bring up English Nick

during Surrender, I'm gonna be mortified. But they didn't and afterward he gave me a nod, like good job buddy. Oh, you got the nod from English Nick. Yeah, that means a lot. I have the opposite story. Oh, what happened? I went to Claremont Lounge to do karaoke years back,

chose to do Darling Nicky. Oh, interesting. In the middle, the karaoke DJ breaks in and goes, it's like William Shatner singing, isn't it, everybody? Oh my God. Yumi was there supporting, dancing, but really just hanging on by her fingernails, you know? You got stopped and insulted mid-song.

Mid-song, but I finished, buddy. Good. Yeah, I finished. I would literally pay $100 to have seen that. I wager they would have been worth $250. Okay. It was pretty bad. Do we have anything else on Tin Pan Alley?

I forgot what we were talking about, Chuck. Well, we should, we're not gonna get into it here. We should do a full show on ASCAP though. Yeah, because yet another thing that Irving Berlin did was create ASCAP, the American Society of Composers and Performers, right? I think producers. Producers, I'd say, man, I didn't even have it

in front of me, but they basically protect and register copyrights for artists. Yeah, it's gotten so convoluted to these days. Yeah, yeah, I think it definitely deserves it something, but that was another thing that was born out of Tin Pan Alley. Yeah, and you know what? I am living in the future now

because I have a turntable now. Finally, again, after many, many years of not having one, that I can play wirelessly throughout all the speakers in my home. Oh, wow. Isn't that amazing? That is the future for sure. That you can actually do that, and it sounds great.

And now, I just went to the record store for the first time in a long time yesterday and bought 13 records. I traded in probably 500 CDs to get 13 records. He was like, I'll give you 130 bucks for the lot, and I was like, fine. Fine, just get these stupid 90 CDs away from me. No, they were great, but it was just,

I felt like I should pay him to take all these off my hands. Did you still have the jewel cases? Oh yeah, they were all, they were worth something. Jeweled up, and so yeah, I bought records for the first time, and I'm gonna make that a, when we go on tour now, and when I travel, I'm gonna make it a point to go into local record stores again. I think that's a great idea.

I really, really had a good time thumbing through records. It was a lot of fun. I'll go with you, text me. Yeah, let's do it. Okay, I think that's it for Tim Pan Alley. RIP Tim Pan Alley, depending on your viewpoint, I guess. Yeah, there needs to be a great,

I know there was a movie in the 40s called Tim Pan Alley, but someone should do a really good look at the early burgeoning film, I'm sorry, movie. Almost. Oh boy, music industry, about Tim Pan Alley, that'd be great. Oh yeah, that would be great. There's so many characters involved.

Just put Hugh Jackman and a Sharknado in it. Yep. And we're all good. And by the way, you got called out for bringing back bread. I did, I said in some episode that, I think the Diving Bell episode that we should bring bread back,

and I guess that's what the kids all say now. I didn't realize that, but like, at least 10 people emailed and said, yeah, millennials are talking about getting that bread. Yep. It's like they are. I guess so. I like to think that I had absolutely nothing to do with that.

No, I bet you were the seed. Do you think so? You never know, man. That'd be cool. Before we go, Luchuck, I do have one more thing. I have to give a shout out to what I consider the greatest song to come out of Tim Pan Alley. And I believe it was an Irving Berlin song.

Yeah, it was. Let's have another cup of coffee. Have you heard that song? Wow, we used that for something, didn't we? I don't remember. We probably did because it's prominent in one of my favorite movies of all time, Paper Moon. That was a great song.

I love that song so much. If you haven't ever heard that song, go listen to it. Because it's one of the most just blindly optimistic songs of all time. And it's about coffee. Yep, and pie. Okay, now that's it. Now I've got nothing else.

If you want to know more about Tim Pan Alley, you can go read up on it and maybe follow whether it's going to get designated as an historic landmark or not. We'll find out. In the meantime, it's time for Listener Mail. So this is just a very sweet email from someone. Hey guys, I'm sure you receive emails like this all the time.

But I would be remiss if I didn't thank you for all the wonderful work you do. I've had a really tough time with mental illness. And there have been a lot of nights your wonderful podcast staved off panic attacks or worse. Thank you for keeping me calm and educated. And thank you for making me feel safe, even in perilous circumstances.

Thank you for giving me something to talk about when my depression just kept me in a fog without your massive backlog and seemingly endless supply of fresh, fascinating subjects. I surely would be lost. Spent some time researching and I can truly appreciate just how much time and energy going and becoming familiar enough

with something to explain it as succinctly as you guys do. Your superheroes and rock stars, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for the wonderful work you do. You have truly saved me. Kindest and warmest regards, Georgia. That is really lovely, Georgia.

If we're ever in a town near you, you are guest listed. Yes, wow, Chuck. I think that was a really good, good idea. Thanks a lot, Georgia. That was a very sweet email. We appreciate it. We're glad we could help in some small measure. Thank you very much for the kudos.

If you want to send us kudos, we love that kind of thing. Including kudos, the candy bar. Yeah, I remember those, the kudos. They were great. Yeah. Actually, I don't know if somebody sent us one if it would still be so great.

Are they not around? No, I think like they would have been manufactured in 1986 or something like that. I don't keep up with the candy bar scene. That's what I'm saying. They're not around anymore. Yeah, I know. Okay, so, wow, that was a little sidetrack on kudos,

wasn't it? Yes. If you want to get in touch with us, stuffyoushouldknow.com, and find all of our social links there. And you can also send us an email to StuffPodcast at iHeartRadio.com. Stuff You Should Know is a production

of iHeartRadio's How Stuff Works. For more podcasts from iHeartRadio, visit the iHeartRadio app. Apple podcasts are wherever you listen to your favorite shows. On the podcast, hey dude, the 90s called, David Lasher and Christine Taylor, stars of the cult classic show, Hey Dude,

bring you back to the days of slip dresses and choker necklaces. We're gonna use Hey Dude as our jumping off point, but we are going to unpack and dive back into the decade of the 90s. We lived it, and now we're calling on all of our friends to come back and relive it. Listen to, Hey Dude, the 90s called

on the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, I'm Lance Bass, host of the new iHeart podcast Frosted Tips with Lance Bass. Do you ever think to yourself, what advice would Lance Bass and my favorite boy bands give me in this situation? If you do, you've come to the right place because I'm here to help.

And a different hot, sexy teen crush boy bander each week to guide you through life. Tell everybody, ya everybody, about my new podcast and make sure to listen so we'll never, ever have to say, bye, bye, bye. Listen to Frosted Tips with Lance Bass on the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcast, or wherever you listen to podcasts.