I spent many afternoons having tea with my grandfather, a man who, as I have told
you many times before, was a genuine dog lover. I can almost see it still - it was
a ritual, especially in the wintertime; tea was served in a little smoking room
and he wore a short red dressing gown quilted with black velvet lapels, black and
red slippers and a paisley neck scarf. He would take a pair of round gold glasses
with spring-hinged arms out of his pocket - I still have them! - and then he would
search among the slate records for old tunes which played on the gramophone with
a sandy, yet ageless appeal... We would listen to Louis Armstrong singing "When
You’re Smiling...."or others such as Xavier Cugat’s orchestral arrangements, while
we had our tea which would end with Larios brandy and a fine Canary cigar.
We would chat about all kinds of things, such as what I was studying at university,
life in general, old battles he had fought, music and especially dogs.
Among those slate records, a few of which I still have, although I do not still
have the gramophone as the luck of the draw meant that it fell into other hands,
there were a few with the little dog listening to his master’s voice on them. My
grandfather always told me that it was a Jack Russell terrier, although some people
said it was a fox terrier who was listening to his dead master’s voice. So what
is the truth of the matter? To me, the dog’s face did not quite look like a fox
terrier’s`...
We are all familiar with the image on the His Master’s Voice records, due to its
direct or indirect prominence, even in certain films of the period. The little
black and white dog’s name was Nipper.
Nipper was born in the English city of Bristol in 1884. He was a cross between a
bull terrier and a fox terrier, and his owner's name was Mark Henry Barraud.
Nipper
got his name because he was always nipping at visitors’ heels and running after
the squirrels, pigeons, rabbits and pheasants in Richmond Park, trying to bite them.
When Mark died in 1887, Nipper was inherited by his two brothers, Phillip and Francis,
and the little dog went to live with Francis in Liverpool. Phillip has no further
part to play in this story as he was not a dog-lover, but Francis, on the other
hand, was.
Francis had a photographer’s studio, plus he was a painter and also a member of
the Royal Academy of Arts. Amongst the other things he inherited from his late brother
was a wax cylinder phonograph and a few recordings of Mark’s voice.
Whenever he was feeling nostalgic, Francis would play Mark’s voice and he was amazed
by the interest Nipper showed as he listened to the phonograph (phonographs could
make recordings, whereas gramophones could not). Nipper would stand in front of
the horn spellbound. He would lick it, sniff it and listen to it delightedly, tilting
his head and looking through the phonograph in a vain attempt to find his late master.
Moved by both his own artistic genius and the animal’s devotion to his late brother,
Francis took a photo of Nipper in 1895. We all know the pose - listening to his
master's voice coming out of the phonograph. Nipper died in September that year
at the grand old age of eleven.
Amazed by the animal’s loyalty, Francis had the idea of putting the photograph onto
a canvas painted over with oil. Barraud completed the painting in 1898 and it was
registered as "dog looking at and listening to a phonograph" on 11th February 1899.
Barraud then decided to change the name of the painting to "His Master’s Voice"
and attempted to exhibit it at the Royal Academy, but it was not accepted. It was
also turned down by various magazines. "Nobody would know what the dog is doing"
they told him. Although to start with he did not want to sell the painting, when
he found himself in rather low water financially, he ended up showing and offering
it to the Edison Bell Company (the inventors of the phonograph), but James E. Hough,
the company’s owner, said “dogs don’t listen to phonographs.”
Francis left the painting standing in pride of place in his workshop. Barraud did
not give up on trying to sell the painting, as he could see something almost magical
in it. He attempted to improve it in order to sell it and, in the summer of 1899,
he took a photo of his painting with him when he went to 31 Maiden Lane to see the
brand-new “Gramophone and Typewriter Company (G & T)" to ask to borrow a gramophone
in order to improve his painting. In an article for The Strand magazine, the painter
wrote: "The manager, Mr Barry Owen asked me if the picture was for sale and if I
could introduce a machine of their own make, a Gramophone, instead of the one in
the picture. I replied that the picture was for sale and that I could make the alteration
if they would let me have an instrument to paint from". The sum of 100 pounds closed
the deal on 4th October 1899.
The painting made its advertising debut in January 1900. Then on 16th
July 1900,
Berliner registered his company’s famous logo, showing a friendly little dog - that
many people thought was a fox terrier or a Jack Russell - listening, spellbound,
to a gramophone with the slogan “His Master’s Voice”. This logo was to be used by
various brands, such as RCA RECORDS and RCA VICTOR.
Emile Berliner, the inventor of the gramophone, asked for the North American rights
to the painting to become the property of the Victor Talking Machine Company. Victor
used the image more intensively than their British subsidiary and all Victor records
had Barraud’s drawing of the dog and the gramophone on them from 1902 onwards. Advertisements
of the period told record buyers to "look for the dog".
"His Master’s Voice" was not used as an image on their records by the British subsidiary
until 1907. Subsequently the painting, the title and other rights were registered
as trademarks in 1910, after it had become clear what a huge success it had become.
Nipper made Francis Barraud’s fortune; he produced 24 replicas of his original,
and became a famous and highly-reputable painter and photographer. He died a famous
man in 1924.
The "His Master’s Voice" oil painting is on display at EMI Music’s head office in
Gloucester Place and when it is seen in the right light, the original phonograph
can still be seen underneath the second coat of paint.
Nipper was buried in Kingston, London, in a park which at the time still had various
magnolia trees. The park eventually disappeared and today a branch of Lloyds Bank
stands on the site. There is a bronze plaque at the main entrance reminding us that
this is where the most musical mongrel in the world was buried.
EMI attempted to put up a commemorative plaque on the house in Bristol where Nipper
was born, but the owner refused to give consent and, sniffing the possibility of
a good bit of business, asked them to buy the house if they wanted to do this.
The trademark which had been created claimed its rightful place as one of the ten
most widely recognised brands of the twentieth century.
There is one curious anecdote that we simply have to mention - in 1980, the HMV
shops, which were still operating in the United Kingdom, found a little dog which
looked rather like Nipper and called him Toby. They used him for openings and record
launches for the chain of shops... However, sequels never live up to originals...
Toby had rather a bad temper and his irascibility made it very hard for him to do
his job properly. He was a true terrier, and the HMV chain handed him over to someone
who did not know how to train him - he was even banned from Crufts in 1984 because
of his bad behaviour.
That is the story of a magical mongrel which helped the painter who gave him a home
achieve his dream of becoming famous.
Rafael Fernández de Zafra