Minstrel Banjo

For enthusiasts of early banjo

Lew Brimmer (ca.1841-1883) started in show business in 1861 with Christy’s Minstrels. He was a terrific banjo player and comedian, but he had a drinking problem. Here are two accounts of Brimmer, first by Frank Converse-

…Lew Brimmer…was drollery personified, either on or off the stage, very original in his “remarks,” and the originator of many slang phrases that “went the rounds.” He was a “happy-go-lucky,” and lived in the present. But for this he might have become a fine banjoist. He boasted much of his “educated finger,” as he expressed it, referring to the tremolo movement, in the execution of which he assumed he could not be approached, and would say that “when he dropped it on ‘old Culinary’ (a heavy metal rim banjo presented to him by an enterprising maker, for business reasons, and which he occasionally introduced) it made the angels weep.”

A good, all-around player, he was also, unfortunately, a “good fellow,” and to the frailties of too good fellowship and its associations may be attributed the untimely closing of a promising career and his early taking off, with “none so poor to do him reverence.”

Poor Lew!—his own worst enemy—led a chequered life, and his misfortunes were “thick upon him,” but his drollery often served him a good turn. Many a good story is told of him and his ready adaptability in exigencies.

He once was travelling out West with a company which stranded at a small town on the Mississippi river. By some stratagem the company succeeded in decamping, leaving Lew on the levee with only his banjo, among strangers, and not a nickel in his exchequer. Sitting on a bale of cotton and deploring his ill-luck, he was aroused from his musing by the arrival of a steamboat. His hopes brightened. Possibly he might be able to beg passage, indifferent as to its termination. Throwing his banjo over his shoulder, hoping to attract attention, he sauntered around, but nothing came of it.

Finally, when about to cast off the lines and it became then or never for Lew, he sought the Captain, only to be gruffly ordered ashore—and “mighty quick, too.” Lew eyed him for a moment, as if sounding him, walked deliberately ashore, unlimbered his banjo and, standing on the water’s edge, commenced singing “We Parted by the River’s Side,” in a voice so loud that it attracted the attention of all on board. The Captain stood amazed at the audacious coolness of the proceeding, but he proved not devoid of humor, and quickly grasping the “pat” but ludicrous application of the song, burst into a hearty laugh and with an expression more assuring than polite told Lew to “git on,” and throughout the passage and until New Orleans was reached only “the best was good enough for Lew.”

Albert Baur says this about Brimmer—

Lew Brimmer was considered a very fine performer in his day…He was devoted to his banjo. Day and night he would play on his “Old Cremona.” The last time I saw him was at a place called “Harry’s,” on Broadway under the Theatre Comique; it was formerly Sandy Spencer’s place, and a great resort for banjo players. I was at Lohr’s on Grand Street one morning and had quite a large roll of manuscript with me. I had picked up a banjo and was trying over some of the pieces. While I was playing a man came into the store and purchased some strings from Mr. Lohr. After making his purchase he stopped and listened to my playing. After I finished he asked me if I would go around the corner with him and look at a banjo. I told him I was about to start up town to give some lessons. He insisted on my going and said it would only take a few minutes. I consented and we started, but I regretted having agreed to go, before we had gone two blocks. I thought we would never get there, as you may imagine for he took us to Harry’s which was at least three-quarters of a mile from Lohr’s. After we got there I felt better, as I found there two Jimmy Clarke banjos, with Lew Brimmer and a piano accompanist with him. As soon as I saw the crowd, I knew I was “in for it.” Lew was nearer “himself” that day than I had seen him in many a month. He was in a happy frame of mind and told me he had not “touched a drop” for months, and was getting ready to join a company then forming. The piano player was an excellent accompanist. Between he, Lew and myself we played and talked and talked and played until almost before I was aware of it, five hours had gone by and I had missed all my morning lessons with some for the afternoon thrown in. I never saw Lew Brimmer again. A short time afterwards he began going down hill. He never joined the troupe. Poor Lew was his own worst enemy, but no more so than many another good hearted fellow who could not say no. I COULD NAME A DOZEN “OLD TIME” BANJO PLAYERS whose downfall and premature deaths are directly attributable to the same cause…

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