Sigmund Gottfried Spaeth (April 10, 1885 – November 11, 1965) was an American musicologist who sought to de-mystify classical music for the general public.

His extensive knowledge of both the classical repertoire and popular song enabled him to trace the melodies of current hits back to earlier sources; this talent garnered him fame as the "Tune Detective," a role he played as an entertainer, educator, and as an expert witness in cases of plagiarism and infringement of copyrighted music.

A serious academic, an athlete and a musician, Spaeth described himself as a "writer, broadcaster, lecturer, composer, arranger and general showman and entertainer.

In 1910 he was awarded a PhD in English, German and philosophy for his thesis, "Milton's Knowledge of Music: Its Sources and its Significance in His Work.

[9] From 1910 to 1912, Spaeth taught English, coached football, soccer and swimming, and served as director of music at the Asheville School for Boys in North Carolina.

"[10] In 1913, Spaeth moved to New York City and took a part-time editorial position with music publisher G. Schirmer, Inc., where he also translated lyrics from French, Italian, German, and Russian into English.

In addition to a popular syndicated newspaper column, "Music for Everybody", Spaeth contributed articles to many periodicals, including The New Yorker,[13] Vanity Fair, The New Republic, Esquire, McCall's, Scribner's Magazine, Harper's, Saturday Evening Post, and Woman's Day.

This interest also resulted in a series of books on popular song in America, beginning with Read 'em and Weep: The Music You Forgot to Remember in 1926.

[21] Spaeth fulfilled hundreds of speaking engagements per year, lecturing on music appreciation and performing his specialty act, the "Tune Detective."

[22] For his unscripted[23] "Tune Detective" lectures, Spaeth sat at a piano and demonstrated that musical phrases in popular songs could be found in older pieces.

She wrote about his on-air delivery:[28] So far as I know, Dr. Spaeth was also the first to make a success of the "ad-lib" style of announcing which eventually became the bad child of the studios and is still looked upon with some disfavor.

He had written much on sports and when station WGBS arranged with the Daily News to broadcast the [1925 Rose Bowl] Stanford–Notre Dame football game with the help of a direct wire from Pasadena, the Spaeth type of announcing seemed a logical choice.

[...] Spaeth was on the air for nearly three hours continuously, for he had to talk even through the long intermission between halves, summing up, recapitulating, and making wise comments on plays which he later proved to have guessed quite correctly.

People still talk about that broadcast.As a sports announcer, Spaeth also covered boxing, tennis, dog shows — "everything," he later said, "except baseball."

For twenty-five years Spaeth was a regular participant in the Metropolitan Opera's quiz, a feature presented at intermissions during live radio broadcasts.

Remington producer Don Gabor asked him to select twenty records from the back catalog to be re-released as a series called Music Plus!

One reviewer commended Spaeth and Miss Cowdrey for their "bravery" in attempting the translation, but added, "Maybe there is a worse opera than "The Polish Jew," but I doubt it.

"[34] The pair also contributed lyrics to a number of songs, including "Madrigal of May,"[35] sung by John Barrymore in the first act of Sem Benelli's stage play The Jest (1919).

Spaeth wrote lyrics for several songs by well-known composers, including "Chansonette" (1924) by Rudolf Friml[36] and "My Little Nest of Heavenly Blue" (1922) by Franz Lehár.

He testified in defense of Walt Disney, Sigmund Romberg, and the Victor Talking Machine Company,[48] among others, often working with well-known copyright attorney Nathan Burkan.

He contended that most similarities in tunes are accidental, and it is always possible to find identical melodic patterns in the public domain, unprotected by copyright.

[...] Now, after receiving an expert witness fee of $2,000, Spaeth took the opposite position, claiming that the song had not originated in St. Louis and that Frankie Baker had not inspired its creation.

The outcome of the trial was hardly surprising.In 1917, Spaeth resigned from the Evening Mail to become the director of industrial music at the YMCA in Bayonne, New Jersey.

[50] Spaeth received recognition from the Army, the Red Cross and the Treasury Department for contributions to morale during the Second World War, which included collecting old phonograph records for scrap and using the proceeds to buy new ones for the servicemen's clubs.

[57] Spaeth married Katherine Lane (née Adams, 1889–1965), a music critic and writer, on January 30, 1917, in Westport, Connecticut.

Katherine took over her husband's reporting duties at the Evening Mail when he became involved in World War I work; he did not get the job back.

Then in 1945 he met with about 20 other enthusiasts of close harmony at the Pennsylvania Hotel and founded the New York chapter of the Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barbershop Quartet Singing in America.