Charlie Dyer Has Fiddled for 60 Years
Chenango Telegraph, February 16, 1926
Charles Dyer
From New England to the south land, from Pennsylvania to the west and back again to New York state, scouts are on the lookout for champion "country fiddlers," taking these unique artists to Detroit, treating them to right royal fashion, for the amusement and pleasure of a man whose time can now be devoted to hobbies instead of automobiles. Henry Ford, manufacturer, business genius, railroad official and philanthropist, has turned his well-nigh boundless energies and opportunities to a revival of the old dances and the old dance tunes, in lurid comparison to which the wild Charleston and the wilder jazz are held. To this end many celebrated fiddlers of the old school have appeared at his dance hall in Detroit to play for him and for the invited parties which he gives there. A summons from Henry Ford is much like a summons from a throne. It is both a compliment and a command.
And Mr. Ford, though he hears the best that New England and New York and Pennsylvania have to offer, has not yet had "the time of his life" at an old-fashioned dance. For he has not yet danced to the lilting, coaxing tunes of Charlie Dyer's violin; he has not yet heard the square dances called as only Charlie Dyer can call them. Norwich offers Charlie Dyer as the champion fiddler of this city, and believes that in him the community has an entrant who could carry all others off their feet when it came to the playing of old tunes and the calling of old dances. To this end Mr. Dyer was interviewed by a representative of The Norwich Sun, to whom he told the story of his long career, a career which extends over nearly 60 years of dance history.
Charles Dyer is 74 years old. He has never taken a music lesson. As he himself says, "I'm no musician and I never set up to be; but I can fiddle." His first violin he secured when he was but a little chap, living with his parents in Harmony, Pa., a name which is quite apropos as a birthplace of a musician. An older brother traded a hemlock tree for the first violin which the Dyer family owned, but as Charlie puts it, "he couldn't do a thing with, so he gave it to me." And the family were nearly frantic as well as deaf during the weeks which ensued, while the youthful Charles endeavored to get something more than noise out of his newly acquired and, to him at least, fascinating instrument.
When the Dyers came to Norwich on the first of March, 1864, nearly 62 years ago [in 1926], Charlie was already playing for dances. He saw the stately dances, with hoop-skirted women and men in most arresting sideburns and precise "frock suits" give way to the gayer square dances; he saw the styles change to rustling taffeta frocks with huge bustles, the bigger the better and the more stylish, And he has lived to see knee-length skirts and the Charleston! And men with a "skirt on each leg," which is the saddest blow of all, and an unkind cut on the balloon trousers.
"When the women wore the hoops--oh! them were the days," Mr. Dyer said. "The men would swing 'em around, and then those hoops would get in action. They'd crack across the gentlemen's shins with a blow that would most disable a man. At the time that the ladies wore those hoops to a dance, the men ought to have wore leathern breeches, but I don't recollect that they did."
Good humor and Charlie Dyer's name are synonymous. He has never been ill natured in his life and it is his inimitable mannerisms and his enjoyment of playing and calling the old dances which contribute hugely to the success of the evenings which he graces with his presence and his fiddle. He is a born entertainer, unique because he is so entirely unaffected, so spontaneous in his fun and in his playing.
Mr. Dyer is not a first violinist. "I trained to do a little first violin playing, but considerable more second," he said. "I wouldn't go out there to Detroit, even if I was invited, posing to Mr. Ford or anybody as a first violinist. But I will say this much: If I was given an old-fashioned orchestry and could lead 'em in the old-fashioned tunes, I'd call the square dances from 9 in the evening until 4 the next morning and never call the same change twice!" It is an established fact that Mr. Dyer can really do just such a "stunt," but he can do more than that. He can, as many Chenango county people know, leave the orchestra, go down into the hall, correct any dancer who isn't stepping just right, point out all the changes to a beginner, return to the orchestra and never miss fiddling a note nor calling a change. and at the same time he can keep a gallery of spectators amused for hours, for he is nothing if not versatile.
"A dance for every piece and a piece for every dance" was Mr. Dyer's motto in the old days. When asked to name a few of the popular numbers of the day, Charlie brought his wonderful memory into play, and reeled off a score of numbers which were popular before the advent of the "round dances." Only a few of the names were familiar, among them "Money Mask" and "Turkey in the Straw." In Charlie's repertoire are also "Gilderoy," "The Bowery Girl", "The Girl I left Behind Me," "Off She Goes to the Carding Machine," (the latter for the Virginia reel), "Old Lion with One Foot", "The Irish Washerwoman" "The Devil's Dceatn," and the single and double Scotch reels, which had tunes of their own as well.
Mr. Dyer is rightfully proud of his memory, which enables him instantly to recall names and faces whose owners he has not seen in years. Only recently he recognized a woman whom he had not seen since she had attended his dances in 1889, and although in the meantime, she has married, become a mother and in turn, a grandmother, Mr. Dyer recognized her instantly and spoke both her maiden and married names.
Charlie has traveled, not extensively, but interestingly. One of his most popular stories is of how he gained entry to the tomb of Brigham Young, which was fenced off and guarded by spiked rails. Climbing over the top he let himself down in the spot where the gave lies. "He was the greatest woman's man since King Solomon," Charlie says, "and I wanted to sit on his grave and tell the folks back home in Norwich, New York that I'd done it. "
Charles Dyer is 74 years old. He has never taken a music lesson. As he himself says, "I'm no musician and I never set up to be; but I can fiddle." His first violin he secured when he was but a little chap, living with his parents in Harmony, Pa., a name which is quite apropos as a birthplace of a musician. An older brother traded a hemlock tree for the first violin which the Dyer family owned, but as Charlie puts it, "he couldn't do a thing with, so he gave it to me." And the family were nearly frantic as well as deaf during the weeks which ensued, while the youthful Charles endeavored to get something more than noise out of his newly acquired and, to him at least, fascinating instrument.
When the Dyers came to Norwich on the first of March, 1864, nearly 62 years ago [in 1926], Charlie was already playing for dances. He saw the stately dances, with hoop-skirted women and men in most arresting sideburns and precise "frock suits" give way to the gayer square dances; he saw the styles change to rustling taffeta frocks with huge bustles, the bigger the better and the more stylish, And he has lived to see knee-length skirts and the Charleston! And men with a "skirt on each leg," which is the saddest blow of all, and an unkind cut on the balloon trousers.
"When the women wore the hoops--oh! them were the days," Mr. Dyer said. "The men would swing 'em around, and then those hoops would get in action. They'd crack across the gentlemen's shins with a blow that would most disable a man. At the time that the ladies wore those hoops to a dance, the men ought to have wore leathern breeches, but I don't recollect that they did."
Good humor and Charlie Dyer's name are synonymous. He has never been ill natured in his life and it is his inimitable mannerisms and his enjoyment of playing and calling the old dances which contribute hugely to the success of the evenings which he graces with his presence and his fiddle. He is a born entertainer, unique because he is so entirely unaffected, so spontaneous in his fun and in his playing.
Mr. Dyer is not a first violinist. "I trained to do a little first violin playing, but considerable more second," he said. "I wouldn't go out there to Detroit, even if I was invited, posing to Mr. Ford or anybody as a first violinist. But I will say this much: If I was given an old-fashioned orchestry and could lead 'em in the old-fashioned tunes, I'd call the square dances from 9 in the evening until 4 the next morning and never call the same change twice!" It is an established fact that Mr. Dyer can really do just such a "stunt," but he can do more than that. He can, as many Chenango county people know, leave the orchestra, go down into the hall, correct any dancer who isn't stepping just right, point out all the changes to a beginner, return to the orchestra and never miss fiddling a note nor calling a change. and at the same time he can keep a gallery of spectators amused for hours, for he is nothing if not versatile.
"A dance for every piece and a piece for every dance" was Mr. Dyer's motto in the old days. When asked to name a few of the popular numbers of the day, Charlie brought his wonderful memory into play, and reeled off a score of numbers which were popular before the advent of the "round dances." Only a few of the names were familiar, among them "Money Mask" and "Turkey in the Straw." In Charlie's repertoire are also "Gilderoy," "The Bowery Girl", "The Girl I left Behind Me," "Off She Goes to the Carding Machine," (the latter for the Virginia reel), "Old Lion with One Foot", "The Irish Washerwoman" "The Devil's Dceatn," and the single and double Scotch reels, which had tunes of their own as well.
Mr. Dyer is rightfully proud of his memory, which enables him instantly to recall names and faces whose owners he has not seen in years. Only recently he recognized a woman whom he had not seen since she had attended his dances in 1889, and although in the meantime, she has married, become a mother and in turn, a grandmother, Mr. Dyer recognized her instantly and spoke both her maiden and married names.
Charlie has traveled, not extensively, but interestingly. One of his most popular stories is of how he gained entry to the tomb of Brigham Young, which was fenced off and guarded by spiked rails. Climbing over the top he let himself down in the spot where the gave lies. "He was the greatest woman's man since King Solomon," Charlie says, "and I wanted to sit on his grave and tell the folks back home in Norwich, New York that I'd done it. "
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Obituary
Norwich Sun, May 4, 1929
Charles Sargent Dyer, noted musician of the old school, died suddenly at his home at 42 Borden avenue [Norwich, Chenango Co., NY] at 10:10 Friday night. There are few people residing in Chenango county who did not know the late Mr. Dyer and who did not enjoy the pleasure of his friendly welcome and cheerful disposition. His demise occurred at the age of 76 years. A man of unusual energy his activity made him an outstanding character in the music world. He was a violinist of accomplished talent and his appearance on programs of all musical entertainments was sought. Mr Dyer was the son of the late George Dyer and Julia Barr. He was born in Susquehanna, Pa., Sept. 10, 1862. During his life time, deceased followed the career of a farmer. He later became a painter, but always displayed a natural talent for music, and art in which he was recognized as a leader. His presence at old-fashioned parties was a feature and his calling of dances spread his fame far and wide over this state. His last rites will be observed at the First Baptist church Monday afternoon at 2 o'clock, the Rev. W.A. Ashmore, pastor, officiating. Burial wil be made in South New Berlin [Chenango Co., NY]. Besides his widow there survive three nieces: Mrs. H.K. Mandeville of this city; Mrs. H.E. Morrell of South New Berlin and Mrs. Arthur Hemingway, also of this city and three nephews, William, Fred and Warren Dyer, all of Norwich. The news of his sudden death brought forth many expressions of regret over the loss of a man who has for many years been a public figure in the musical circles of this state. He had been subject to slight periods of illness and suffered a heart attack Friday morning at about 11:30. He continued to be about his home however and felt well upon his retiring last night. At a few minutes past 10 o'clock Friday night his death came very peacefully. About four years ago Mr. Dyer won much recognition in an old-time fiddlers' contest conducted at Cornell university at Ithaca. Players were present from four states and first place was won by Dyer. He was also invited to play before Henry Ford but was unable to accept the invitation. The most unique thing about his musical talent was the fact that Mr. Dyer had never been able to read a note.
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