Copyright © 2021 by Wendy Waszut-Barrett
Edward A. Morange worked with Thomas G. Moses at Sosman and Landis in the early 1880s. He eventually made quite a name for himself in New York and gained a national reputation as a scenic artist, designer and art director. I am going to start with Morange’s personal life before presenting his artistic accomplishments, as it helps provide context for his achievements amidst struggle.
Edward A. Morange was born on March 20, 1865, in Cold Springs, New York. He was the son of Edward B. Morange (1838-1904) and Ellen F. Morange (1838-1888). His father was a machinist who moved west shortly after Edwards birth, relocating the family to Davenport, Iowa. Edward was the third of five children born to the couple. His siblings were William, Emma, Justina and Agnes. By 1880, the Morange family was living in Chicago. This placed Edward in the right place at the right time to begin a scenic art career. The earliest mention of Edward in the newspaper dates from June 26, 1880. That year, the “Chicago Tribune” reported that he received a Foster Medal for his scholarship at the Dore School, one of the largest public schools in Chicago at the time.
After graduation, he soon started a career in scenic art, starting as an apprenticeship at Sosman & Landis and studying at the Art Institute of Chicago. Morange also started painting scenery at the Grand Opera House and going on sketching trips with his colleagues. In 1882, Morange primarily sketched with Moses, Hardesty Maratta and John H. Young. Of these sketching trips, Moses wrote, ““we certainly had some good trips…We were all working in watercolor. Most of our trips were along the river where we found good material and a lot of adventures – too numerous to mention. One Sunday we were sketching a grain schooner that was ready to leave at the Rock Island Elevator. A tug arrived to tow it from the lake. We objected as we had some work to finish on the sketch. The tug Captain was good-natured and invited us aboard the tug. We finished the sketch and rode out in the lake beyond the water crib some three miles. The Captain brought us back to Washington Street. We were profuse in our thanks and we were also satisfied. It gave the crew something to talk about.”
In 1883, Moses, Young, Morange and Maratta headed west to Breckenridge to see the mountains and gather source material. Moses catalogued the trip and also recorded Morange and Maratta’s early departure, writing, “Morange and Maratta were getting tired of the hard bed and indifferent food, so after a week of it they packed up and started east. The same day, Young and I started for Dillon by rail.” It is ironic that Morange departed early, as the remainder of his career would be highlighted by sketching trips throughout the world
By the late 1880, Morange met the love of his life, Julia Sowersby. The two were first mentioned in an “Inter Ocean” article on January 13, 1888 (page 8). Each participating in a Grand March at De Berg’s Hall in Chicago, an early Leap Year celebration. In 1890, the two married and began their adventure. Julia was born on Feb. 12, 1867, in Chicago. The daughter of Francis R. Sowersby and Eliza Jeffs Sowersby, her ancestors emigrated from England in 1800, initially settling at St. Catherines, Ontario, Canada, before moving to the United States. I doubt that she had any idea what being married to a scenic artist would mean over the years.
In 1893, the couple celebrated the birth of their first son in Chicago shortly after the opening of the Columbian Exposition. Morange had been hired to design some of the exhibits that year, as his career was starting to take off. By 1895, the couple was living in Washington, D.C. and soon celebrated the birth of their second child. In Washington D.C., Morange studied at the Corcoran School of Arts and Design. On May 18, 1896, their second son, Leonard Sowersby Morange, was born while the Morange’s were living in Washington, D.C. It is purported that Kern wrote “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” in the Morange home and had hoped that Leonard would return home from the war and possibly join him in musical venues. There is some credence to this tale as on Sept. 21, 1920, the “Evening World” reported “As it Should Be.” Jerome Kern, composer, P. O. address Bronxville, has a big heart. One thing he hates to see is embarrassment on the part of a friend. The other evening, he had E. A. Morange, the scenery man, over for dinner. When the guest sat down at his table, he found eight spoons and forks at his place, all properly tagged. One bore a tag reading ‘Soup’, another ‘Coffee,’ a third ‘Ham,’ and so on. Guided by the tags Mr. Morange didn’t make a single faux pas” (New York, page 20). The two had remained especially close after the passing of Leonard two years earlier.
Leonard left his studies at Yale in 1917 to join the Canadian Flying Corps and was appointed as instructor in the Royal Flying Corps. After being sent to England, he died during a training incident when two student planes collided near Shotwick on 11 August 1918. After his passing, the Bronxville American Legion Post named after him. On March 3, 1928, the “Bronxville Review” remembered the history of Leonard S, Morange and the American Legions Lodge, stating, “It is a proud honor that this post has the heritage of the name of so gallant an officer who not only gave his all for a cause but for an Ally in order to gain that service earlier when it was so seriously needed before his own country had flyers on the front.”
His older brother Irving also served as a First Lieutenant the American Airforce on the western front. At the time of Leonard’s passing, Irving was already credited with shooting down three German airplanes. Sadly, Irving passed away from pneumonia in 1926. At the time he was working in Memphis.
By 1900, the Morange family moved to New York. On October 7, 1903, their younger sister Leila was born and baptized that fall. The family continued to thrive as Edward’s career appeared to be unstoppable, at least until the beginning of WWI. In regard to Leila, she eventually married Leland Hanson and celebrated the birth of two children, Joan (b. 1930) and Leland Jr. (b. 1931).
The births of the three Morange children in Chicago, Washington, D.C. and New York mark the family’s transition from the Midwest to the East Coast. Initially, Morange’s stage work in Chicago led him to work on outside projects with many other Sosman & Landis artist including, David A Strong and Ernest Albert. By 1889, Morange and Strong were working together. On March 8, 1889, the “Chicago Tribune” reported, “A bill for a partnership accounting was filed by Edward A. Morange and David A. Strong against James G. Jansen of Jansen, Morange & Co., dealers in materials for making blackboards” (page 10).
It was in Chicago during 1894 that Edward A. Morange would meet his eventual business partner, Francis “Frank” Edgar Gates. During the day, the two studied fine art and in the evenings, they painted scenery. Later, Frank’s brother, Richard Henry Gates, joined the team. Frank and Richard Gates received their academic training at the School of Fine Arts, Washington University, St. Louis. An article in “The Scenic Artist,” noted “they were practically brought up on theatre from almost infancy, being in a family of theatrical managers, musicians and actors, it was natural that the stage should appeal to them” (Vol. 1, No. 8, December 1927, page 8). The Gates were a family of theatrical managers, musicians, and actors. Frank and Richard eventually partnered with E. A. Morange to form the studio Gates & Morange by 1897 (see past posts from Tales of a Scenic Artist and Scholar, parts 149, 171, and 189-91).
Although Gates and Morange had worked on many projects together, their first Broadway credits date from 1897 – “Straight from the Heart” by Sutton Vane and Arthur Shirley. The scenic studio of Gates & Morange was to become one of the premiere scenic studios during the early twentieth century. Although starting in Chicago, they soon moved their company to New York to produce settings for dozens of Broadway shows. Their first Broadway credits date from 1897 – “Straight from the Heart” by Sutton Vane and Arthur Shirley. Artists that worked for their firm over the years included Thomas Benrimo, William E. Castle, Charles Graham, Alexander Grainger, Arne Lundberg, and Orestes Raineiri. The New York Public Library also holds the Gates & Morange Design Collection (1894-1953), containing original set designs, curtain designs, olio designs, trade show designs, and several exhibitions.
By 1907, their incorporated their partnership. On Feb. 7, 1907, the “New York Time” announced the incorporation of “Gates & Morange, Inc., North Pelham (stage settings) capital $100,000, Directors – F. E. Gates, Tucakahie; E. A. Morange, Mount Vernon; R. N. Gates, Bronxville.” (page 13). Morange was also integral in establishing the eastern affiliate of Sosman & Landis, New York Studios shortly after incorporating Gates and Morange. In 1910, David H. Hunt, Secretary and treasurer of Sosman & Landis, established New York Studios. He was one of the initial stockholders; at the beginning the firm’s stockholders included David H. Hunt, Adelaide Hunt, Edward Morange, Henry L. Rupert, and W. E. Castle. New York Studios listed Adelaide A. Hunt as the President, Edward A. Morange as the vice president, and David H. Hunt, as the Treasurer. The company’s starting capital was $40,000, and listed the following directors: Edward A. Morange, Adelaide A. and David H. Hunt, with offices located at 325 W 29th Street, New York. Business listings noted that theatrical equipment was the primary product produced by the company.
It was during this time that Morange was gaining a national reputation, helping secure Gates and Morange an incredible amount of work. Throughout the duration of Gates & Morange; Morange was the primary visionary and traveler, gathering source material for their designs. Gates managed the studio and the contracts.
In 1908, the U. S., Government sent Morange to the Northwestern Territory to make sketches preparatory to painting a mammoth panorama for the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific exposition in Seattle, Washington. Morange also painted scenes for the government of Yosemite, Yellowstone National Park, Glacier National Park, the Grand Canyon, and many other areas. Morange constantly took advantage of painting from nature, keeping research files from trips throughout the World. However, his grandest adventures were with George C. Tyler, the head of Leibler & Co., and English Director Frederick Stanhope.
Their international adventures began in 1911, necessitating Morange applying for a passport on March 20, 1911. He was preparing to visit England and Havre, but ended up touring England, France, Germany, Algeria and Tunis for two months. His physical description at the time was listed as 5’-5”, high forehead, broad mouth, square chin, dark brown hair (with grey and parted in the middle), blue grey eyes, ruddy complexion and smooth shaven. In 1991, he was 46 yrs. old and living with his family in Mt Venon, New York. Richard H. Gates certified the information on Morange’s application was correct. The purpose for Morange’s trip was to gather information for the upcoming production, “The Garden of Allah.” Years later, a story from the trip was included in his obituary:
“Mr. Morange spent the summer of 1911 in Africa gathering material. While on this trip an attempt was made to affect the first crossing o the Sahara desert by automobile, and effort that failed eleven miles from the starting point when Mr. Morange’s car was buried in a sandstorm.” His experience was first shared in “Staging a Sandstorm” by Wendell Phillips Dodge in 1912 (The Theatre, Volume 15, 1912. Here is the article, as it is just wonderful:
“The busiest actor on the stage of the Century Theatre, where Robert Hichens’ drama, ”The Garden of Allah,” is still attracting large crowds, is the sand man. Though he occupies the centre of the stage only about one-fifth of the time that it takes Lewis Waller to give Boris Androvsky’s long soliloquy, he nevertheless grips the audience more than any other incident in the play.
While the sand man does not appear in the cast, still he is very much in evidence behind the scenes. For his one big scene he requires the entire stage from the foots to the backdrop, from wings to wings and from the boards to the flies; and for his quick-change dressing-room he must have the great thirty-foot deep pit, the breadth and depth of the stage itself, which extends under the stage. For his “make-up” he requires almost a ton of dry colors for the ground alone, and no less than three hundred pounds of powder for the high lights. In making up he has to use eight tables and is assisted by thirty dressers in putting on his costume. His “make-up” is put on with the aid of a dozen powerful electrical blowers, in order to give the right blend, and his costume is made to fly before the breeze by an electrically-driven stage gale that would make the winds of Chicago’s lake front seem like a gentle summer’s night air ripple. He makes his entrance at top speed and keeps on moving in a whirling-dervish sort of a way throughout the scene, occupying the centre and every other part of the stage at once and all the time until the close of his speech, which is the most heart-body and-soul-rending in the whole play, filling the minds and hearts of the audience with all the emotions that exist between earth and sky.
In order to stage the sandstorm in “The Garden of Allah.” in spirit and in truth, George C. Tyler, of the firm of Liebler and Company, went into the heart of the great Sahara Desert, accompanied by Hugh Ford, general stage director, and Edward A. Morange, of the firm of Gates and Morange, scenic artists, and laid siege to an actual and ferocious sandstorm which they captured and have transported in all its fiery temper to the Century Theatre, New York.
Mr. Tyler sent his automobile to Cherbourg, and from there the motor trip into the desert began. At Marseilles, they embarked on the Ville d Oran, a small boat, to the African coast. After a rough passage the party reached Philippeville, from which point they put out for the Sahara. On the road between El-Arrouch and Le Hamma the sight of the “devil wagon” spread consternation, once entirely demoralizing a caravan, causing a stampede of camels. After some hours of speeding over the sands of time, the party passed El Kantara. Another hour and they arrived at an oasis in the centre of which lies the city of Biskra. Here they met Mr. Hichens, and after a reading of the dramatization of his novel amid the true atmosphere suggested in the book, they started out to reach the heart of the desert. Theirs’ was the first automobile that had ever penetrated the sands of the Sahara, and this it did to such an extent that on one occasion it sank so deep it took six donkeys and a camel to pull it out of the hole it dug as it plowed through the sand, embedding itself deeper and deeper with each drive. They were no sooner out of this difficulty than they ran into a real sandstorm.
“We had been gone from Biskra a short three hours,” said Mr. Morange, “when we began to find it necessary to put on our goggles and raincoats to protect our bodies from the sand, lifted and swirled around by intermittent, playful gusts of wind. Looking at” a herd of camels, probably an eighth of a mile away, we noticed that different groups of them would suddenly be veiled to our view while others to both sides would be perfectly visible. Turning to look at the low hills that stand out dark against the sands in front of them and darker still against the sky beyond, we saw faintly what appeared to be steam, along the surface in various shapes, rising from the sands as they approached the dark hills, and veiling them until they, the sky above and the sands in front melted into one even tone of light, misty, yellowish gray. Around the veiled mass the sun was shining. A feeling of discomfort, not unmixed with anxiety, possessed our party as the bright sun, with which we started out, disappeared. To move our jaws but slightly found us grinding sand with our teeth, and we instinctively tied our handkerchiefs around our heads, covering our nostrils and securing some protection for the mouth. We could no longer pick out the road that but a few moments before was well defined by the ruts made by the mail diligence that regularly struggles between Biskra and Touggourt. The shifting sand had been blown over the road as snow might obscure a highway. We had gone to the desert for ‘atmosphere’ and we were getting it with a vengeance.
We stopped the car, as we all agreed that it would be dangerous to proceed. From the direction from which we had noticed many little whirling steam-like gusts appear, we were now startled by the appearance of a huge irregular cloud, probably a hundred feet in width, moving rapidly toward us. A curious feature of it was that the bottom of it seemed to clear the ground, often rising and sinking alternatively. The color of the cloud was much darker than that of the sands around it. It was of a rather dirty yellowish red, but very luminous in quality. A half dozen camels that we could dimly distinguish, crouched or knelt, huddled together, stretching their necks close to the ground, their heads turned toward the approaching cloud. “The edge of this cloud, nearest to us, seemed entirely independent of the surrounding atmosphere, but as we were directly in its path, we instinctively closed our eyes, crouched in the automobile and turned our backs on it, as one would a blinding onslaught of snow and sleet. We were conscious of a hot, stinging sensation in the parts of our flesh exposed and a peculiar whistling, swirling rush of something passing over us for a few seconds. When I partially opened my eyes. I realized that it was almost as dark as night. When it grew lighter, we found ourselves in a yellowish, smoky fog of fine sand. We had to wait for probably fifteen minutes before the air cleared sufficiently for us to distinguish objects fifty feet away. Protected in the car as well as we were, we were still half-choked with sand. Little piles of sand were heaped up in front of the wheels and in all places that would allow them to form, as drifts of snow might pile. At this moment, we fully realized the oppressiveness of this dreary waste, this awful ocean of seemingly boundless sand.”
The question now was how to transfer the real, living sandstorm to the stage of the Century Theatre. Stage sandstorms date back more than twenty years, when one was introduced in Fanny Davenport’s production of “Gismonda.” This sandstorm, naturally, was very crude, since in those days there was no such thing as light effects nor stage mechanism. The players themselves created the sandstorm by tossing handfuls of Fuller’s earth over their heads to the accompaniment of the rubbing of sandpaper in the wings to give the suggestion of wind blowing. Belasco put over the first realistic sandstorm in “Under Two Flags,” causing Fuller’s earth to be blown through funnel-like machines from the wings, while at the same time stereopticon cloud storm effects were played on gauze drops. Mr. Belasco also introduced the now famous bending palm to stage sandstorms, to convey the idea of motion. Once when “Under Two Flags” was produced in San Francisco the local stage manager told the property man to get something that could be blown across the stage, to be used in the sandstorm scene. There was not time for a scene rehearsal, but the property man connected a “blower” made out of a soap box with the ventilating system, and as the cue was given, tossed heaps of flour into the box to be blown over the stage. The play ended right there, with scenery and everything covered as if a blizzard had struck the place! It required weeks to get the flour off of the scenery, to which it stuck and hardened. Last year Frederic Thompson introduced a sandstorm in a scene showing the Western Bad Lands, sawdust being blown from the wings. But the sawdust scattered everywhere, even into the orchestra.
Messrs. Tyler and Ford found no bending palms in the storm they witnessed and encountered on the Sahara, so no bending palms appear in “The Garden of Allah” sandstorm. Yet motion is suggested by other means—the robes of an Arab going across the stage waving, the sides of the Arab tent flapping in the wind, the garment of Batouch, Domini’s servant, fluttering when he emerges from the tent to tighten the anchorage rope to the windward. Besides these things, there is the whirling swirling sand forming real sandspouts, such as have never before found their way on the stage.
To create the actual whirlwind that blows the sand at the Century Mr. Ford installed under the stage a series of powerful electric blowers, and connected these with pipes leading up through the stage flooring at carefully planned points of vantage. One set of pipes is located by the left-stage tormentor near the front of the tent, and another on the other side of the proscenium by the right-stage tormentor. There is another set of these pipes hidden behind the tent towards the centre of the stage, and still another set backstage. The pipe sets consist of four pipes such as are used for drain-pipes on houses, of different heights and with the openings placed at slightly different angles. Under the stage alongside of the electric blowers are two rows of troughs, one on either side of the stage, into which a dozen men feed the “sand,” which is forced up the pipes and blown at a rate far exceeding that of any windstorm ever experienced on land or sea! In all there are twenty blowers, arranged in four series of five each. Another single blower is placed in the left-stage tormentor and blows only air, to dispel the continuous streams of sand blown through the pipes by the other blowers. The pipes are so placed and arranged on the stage as to provide a continuous whirling swirl of sand, never ending, never-ceasing, ever increasing in its fiery fury, until the storm quiets down and the light of day brightens the scene.
Mr. Ford placed the pipes at different angles so that each one would send a stream of sand that would cut and dispel the stream from another pipe, thus obtaining a continuous spiral sandspout instead of a streak of sand like the tail of a comet from each pipe. Also, the three sets of pipes used for creating the sandstorm are started and worked alternately, beginning with the set in front of the tent, then the set at the right side of the proscenium, and finally the set beside the tent, towards the centre of the stage. This alternate movement gives the swirling effect that makes the storm real. The one set of pipes placed back stage behind the tent, however, shoots straight across the stage in order to give a cloud of mystery and add density to the scene.
About three hundred pounds of sand is blown through the four sets of pipes at each performance. This is kept from blowing into the auditorium by means of an “air curtain” at the foot lights and at the first entrances, enough pressure of compressed air to keep the “sand” back. The sand used is nothing more nor less than good old cornmeal! Three hundred pounds is wasted at each performance—enough to feed a whole ranch!
Cornmeal was resorted to after everything else, including sand itself, had failed to blow and act like sand on the stage. Real sand from Fire Island beach was first tried, but besides being too heavy to be kept swirling in the air, it did not look like sand when the lights were thrown on it. Real sand on the stage when the lights were thrown on it as it was blown across the stage looked like so much soft coal soot.
The heaps of sand on the stage, forming the minor sand dunes, and also the ground of the desert, are composed of ground cork, painted an orange yellow. Cork is used because it is clean and dustless and easily handled.
To light the sandstorm, Mr. Ford uses only the footlights, the central portion being a deep orange with a deep blue on either side. This keeps the heart of the storm, so to speak, in the light, and the edges are blended away into the darkness at the sides of the stage, providing not only absolute realism, but shadings that suggest the most delicate of pastels. The wonderful lighting of this scene shows the varying color emotions of the desert, with its sand dunes of the palest primrose, and the purple fury of the desert storm.
Stereopticon storm cloud effects are thrown on the sand curtain formed by the cornmeal slung across the back of the stage by the pipes put there for that purpose, and on a gauze curtain just behind, from arc-lights placed on two lighting tops built on either side of the proscenium.
To obtain the delicate pastel light effects of the sandstorm and of the other desert scenes in “The Garden of Allah,” Mr. Ford first painted the scenes with stage lights using the remarkable switchboard of the former New Theatre for his palette, and the clouds of cornmeal as his canvas. In that way, having the true picture of the sandstorm, which he had himself seen in the Sahara in his mind, he achieved what no one else ever has done before—he has, “in spirit and in truth,” transported the sandstorm of the desert, with all its multitudinous shades and shadows, feelings and emotions, to the stage.
On Jan. 6, 1913, the “St. Louis Star and Times” published an article written by Morange, entitled “A Visit to the Wonderful Home of Wonderful Loti.” After designing and painting scenery for “The Garden of the Gods,” Morange was involved with “The Daughter of Heaven,” a play of Chinese life by Pierre Loti and Judith Gautler, produced by Liebler & Co.
Morange received a noted form G. C. Tyler of the Leibler Co. on Jan. 2, 1912, that stated, “Tomorrow, at 11, if convenient, we’ll take up the matter of a successor to ‘The Garden of Allah’ at the Century. Prepare to put your summer at my disposal.” The summer before, Tyler, Hugh Ford, the stage director and Morang traveled to “the heart of the desert of Sahara, one of the most interesting trips ever taken, in order that we might absorb Algerian atmosphere preparatory to staging Hichens play.” Morange explained that he reported promptly at 11. “Well,” said I, ‘where do we go this summer? To India?” “No,.” said Tyler, “next year’s spectacle at the Century will be a drama of modern China.” “Then we go to China,” I suggested. “Better than that,” said Tyler, “I am going to take you to the wonderspot of the world. We go to Rochefort.” I need no further. Explanation. Since my early youth I had been an enthusiast over modern French literature. And of its motley crew of masters, one figure stood forth in highlight. “We go to see Pierre Loti?” I gasped. “Right,” replied Tyler. “Loti has written for us a Chinese play entitled ‘The Daughter of Heaven”…”No Americans have ever visited Loti at his home before.” Tyler went on. “We sail early in March. My automobile will meet us at Cherbourg and after a few days in Paris, we proceed directly to Loti’s home.” The program was carried out to the letter.” There is much more to the article, but I am stopping here.1912 was also the year that the Morange Family moved to Bronxville, New York. Edward and Julia would remain in Bronxville for the remainder of their lives.
In 1914 Morange was listed as the art director for a silent movie, “The Great Diamond Robbery.” This six-reel film was assembled by the Playgoer’s Film Company of New York City, shown in five acts, 6 parts, 250 scenes. Listings advertised, “It is indeed a masterpiece of photoplay productions” (“Altoona Tribune,” 8 May 1914, page 3). The film was based on the play by Edward M. Alfriend and A. C. Wheeler. On March 20, 1914, the New York Tribune published, “At last a theatrical manager has put on a legitimate drama, with a cast composed entirely of screen novices, but stage veterans. The resulting motion picture more than justifies the effort…‘The Great Diamond Robbery’ is a melodrama which was produced in New York about twenty years ago, when it ran for about a year in the American Theatre. It is adorned with regular melodrama features, such as a beautiful villainess, a working girl heroine and gallant detective, who foils assorted criminals and marries the working girl. But the story is nevertheless one that holds attention.” Wallace Eddinger starred as detective Dick Brummage in a case involving a Brazilian adventurous (Gail Kane) and the theft of the fabulous Romanoff diamonds. When Detective Brummage proved Kane’s guilt, she took poison.
It is right around this time that life began to change for the Morange. The war began, his sons enlisted to serve, and Leonard perished. He continued to succeed in business, but some of the spark left him. On May 8, 1920, he applied for a passport to visit Leonard’s grave in England. In regard to his reason for travel on his passport application, he initially wrote, “To visit my son’s grave,” but then crossed it out and wrote, “to tour and visit friends.” Morange’s application at the time listed that he lived outside of the United States for the following periods:
England/France/Germany/Algeria/Tunis April 1911-June 1911
England/France May 1912-June 1912
England/France March 1914-June 1914.
Further information on his application noted that That he was currently living in Bronxville, NY and worked as a scenic artist. His last passport was from March 1911. He was planning travel to England and Havre and initially wrote (visiting my son’s grave, then crossed that out and wrote touring and visiting friends.
Throughout the 1920s, the reputation of Gates & Morange continued to grow. In 1927. The “Scenic Artist” featured an article about the firm, concluding, “It is refreshing to know that here is one studio housing a large staff of academically trained artists that has kept pace with the insurgent movement with its radical and liberal tendencies, which has been at work in recent years in the theatres of Europe and America. That Gates & Morange have accepted what is sane and beneficial of this movement is readily seen by the numerous beautiful compositions covering the walls of their design rooms and bulging out their portfolios. Through them all is seen the sureness and artistic simplicity that only an artist of thorough and correct draughtsmanship, with a fine decorative feeling, a profound knowledge and delicate sense of color and imagination could create. The present possibilities of producing pleasing or bizarre effects with the highly perfected and easily operated electric equipment of the modern stage, has opened the theatre to the many experiments and faddist illusions that none but an experienced scenic artist could endow with poetical beauty and mystery they exhibit. With all these the stage has not lost its glamour for these artists as the many new ideas and effects around which authors and composers may write plays or revues, upon the initiative of these creators of things novel and beautifully interesting.”
Although Morange continued to design and paint, he became involved with Gates on other business endeavors, such as real estate development. On June 30, 1938, the “Bronxville Review” announced, “Edward A. Morange of Sagamore Rd, is a member of the six-man fact finding committee headed by the village trustee Joseph T. Creamer, of Tuckahoe, appointed by Mayor Walter D. Crouch of that village on Tuesday as the initial step by officials to establish a housing authority to eliminate slums” Gates and Morange were heavily invested in the development of Sagamore; they bought multiple lots and developed them, each working with their own architect.
Morange’s roots remained tied to Bronxville, and a lovely obituary was published upon his passing on May 26, 1955. Here is a portion of it, as it sums up a lovely and ambitious life:
“Both a scenic artist and stage set designer, Mr. Morange was a member of Gates & Morange in New York and was active until the start of his illness in 1951. When he joined Frank and Richard Gates, the first firm assignment was painting a curtain for Springfield, Mass., the theaters which helped establish the reputation of the concern. The work was soon in demand and among the scenery Mr. Morange and the firm designed were sets for Florenz Ziegfeld, George C. Tyler, Harrison Grey Fiske, and Leibler & Co. Some of the firm’s settings for Charles Couglan’s ‘Citizen Pierre,’ [or the operetta ‘Off the Earth’] and for ‘The Garden of Allah’ which was not done until Mr. Morange spent the summer of 1911 in Africa gathering material. While on this trip an attempt was made to effect the first crossing o the Sahara desert by automobile, and effort that failed eleven miles from the starting point when Mr. Morange’s car was buried in a sandstorm. He also went to Alaska to prepare a panorama of the region for the U. S. Government. On this trip he developed the idea for the famous totem pole dance which was later incorporated into the musical ‘Rose Marie.” Most of the hits of the day bore the setting credit to Gates and Morange, and included ‘Daughter of Heaven,” and ‘Joseph and his Brethren.’ The Brander Matthews Museum at Columbia University uses some of the company’s models, and in 1949 Mr. Morange’s work was featured in the exhibit “Behind American Footlights” at the Metropolitan Museum. Settings for ‘Promander Walk’ are said to have inspired architectural projects in the Eat, and the apple orchard scene in ‘Leah Kleschna’ and the London Bridge scene in ‘Oliver Twist’ brought special praise form the critics.” His illness started with “a cerebral hemorrhage in a New York motion picture theater. He was brought to Lawrence Hospital by ambulance and later was taken to Connecticut.”
There is so much more that could be written about Morange in terms of his scenic contributions, but that would be a book in itself.
To be continued…
