Music Ends 80-Day Sleep

1919

Talking Machine Rouses Woman After Human Voices Fail.

NORWICH, N. Y. — Neighbors, relatives and doctors for eighty days had tried to wake Mrs. Fred Tracey, 55, of Oxford, from her "sleeping sickness," but a talking machine succeeded where human voices had failed.

When, as a last resort, a record was played she became conscious long enough to inquire:

"What was that?"

Then she fell asleep again, but was roused several times after that. Her physician now states she will recover.

Madame Melba Loses Control of Her Voice

1914

Great Prima Donna, It Is Feared, May Never Sing Again

BOSTON, March 8. — Madame Nellie Melba, the famous prima donna, has lost her voice and there is danger that she will never be able to sing again. She was scheduled to appear here last night and when she appeared on the stage her voice failed her and she was only able to speak in a whisper. Physicians were called at once, but they have expressed no certainty that she will be able to sing again.

Madame Melba, whose maiden name was Helen Porter Mitchell, was born at Melbourne, Australia, in 1866. Her father was Scotch and her mother of Spanish descent. She received her education at the Presbyterian Ladies' College in Melbourne, and later studied in Paris under Mme. Marchesi. In 1882 she married Charles Armstrong, a son of Sir Andrew Armstrong. She made her debut in Brussels in 1887. She took a part of the name of her native city as her stage name.

The Talking Phonograph

1878

Mr. Thomas A. Edison recently came into this office, says the Scientific American, placed a little machine on our desk, turned a crank, and the machine inquired as to our health, asked how we liked the phonograph, informed us that it was very well, and bid us a cordial good night. These remarks were not only perfectly audible to ourselves, but to a dozen or more persons gathered around, and they were produced by the aid of no other mechanism than the simple little contrivance mentioned.

No matter how familiar a person may be with modern machinery and its wonderful performance, or how clear in his mind the principle underlying this strange device may be, it is impossible to listen to the mechanical speech without his experiencing the idea that his senses are deceiving him. We have heard other talking machines. The Faber apparatus for example is a large affair as big as a parlor organ. It has a key board, rubber larynx and lips, and an immense amount of ingenious mechanism which combines to produce something like articulation in a single monotonous organ note. But here is a little affair of a few pieces of metal, set up roughly on an iron stand about a foot square, that talks in such a way, that, even in its present imperfect form many words are not clearly distinguishable, there can be no doubt but that the inflections are those of nothing else than the human voice.

We have already pointed out the startling possibility of the voices of the dead being reheard through this device, and there is no doubt but that its capabilities are fully equal to other results just as astonishing. When it becomes possible as it doubtless will, to magnify the sound, the voices of such singers as Parepa and Titiens will not die with them, but will remain as long as the metal in which they may be embodied will last. The witness in court will find his own testimony repeated by machine so that it will be reproduced in a way that will leave no question as to his devising capacity or sanity. It is really possible by ingenious optical contrivances to throw stereoscopic photographs of people on screens in full view of an audience. Add the talking phonograph to counterfeit their voices, and it would be difficult to carry the illusion of real presence much further.