Month: October 2017

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is recovering from travel and catching up on current projects. She is reposting a few early installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her eighteenth post from March 3, 2017.

Part 18: A Prime Discovery

The 1931 typed manuscript of Thomas G. Moses (1856-1934) provides an abundance of information concerning his design process and the creation of the painted scenery. Moses first mentions working with the Valley of Fort Scott in 1923, noting that he felt they “were in line for the contract.” His story continues with his return during May 1924, writing, “I made a colored sketch for the decorations and then gave another showing of my scenes and closed the contract.”

By August of 1924 Moses finalized the onsite details, met with his carpenter and put in a full days work before continuing on his way to Colorado, Utah, California and Washington. In October he returned again for only a few days. He immediately departed with the intention of returning in two weeks to commence the painting, but poor health and unexpected work intervened. At this time Moses was battling a chronic cough and was beginning to have some severe health issues. He was 68 years old, overworked, constantly traveling, and taking little time to rest and recuperate.

Finally, on October 23^, Moses left for Fort Scott and immediately started painting upon his arrival. He stayed until November 25, recording,” Fulton and I dug in to the work, and it was some hustle to get through, which we did on the 17^th of November. At the finish I got a payment of $7,000, the balance to be paid within a month. Our extras brought the contract up to $22,000.00.” Moses did not return again to Fort Scott until August of 1925.

While we were onsite, I was able to identify where Moses had painted the majority of the scenery – 20’ above the stage floor on the stage-left side. His onsite studio in 1924 was accessible by a narrow ladder that climbed up the back wall of the theatre – on the stage left side.

A few days before our departure, one of the riggers was contemplating the removal of a converted sewing machine as a souvenir. It had been used to track the moon light box across a night sky in the Twenty-first degree. It was located on a ledge high above the stage floor. As he examined the machine, we asked him to look around and see if there was anything else of on the nearby platform.

“Just an old wooden barrel,” he responded. My heart started to race and I immediately asked if he could identify the contents.

“I can’t tell as it’s still sealed. But there is a pile of white stuff next to it and the same type of powder leaking out of the seams.”

“Oh my God,” I thought and my heart leapt. He found a barrel of whiting!

Now this might not sound exciting to many people – an old wooden barrel leaking white powder twenty feet above the stage.

What many people don’t know is that whiting was the product used by scenic artists to prime painted backdrops. The chances that this was an original barrel purchased by Moses and abandoned onsite after completing the job was very likely. Whiting was cheap and too heavy to justify shipping it back to the Chicago studio.

The traditional formula for drop primer was mixing strong size (diluted hide glue) with a fine powder that primarily consisted of silica, zinc, lead, or a mixture of thereof. The powder was soaked in a galvanized tub of water overnight, making sure that it was thoroughly dissolved and free from lumps. Then it was then “slaked” before using; this process separated out the gritty substance from the chalk. The chalk was scooped out and mixed with strong size. The primer was evenly worked into the fabric of the drop, thus providing a clean and uniform base on which to draw the design.

If an entire unopened barrel of whiting was up there, what other treasures could be hidden away under a layer of filth? Would I be able to verify that Moses used this space as a temporary onsite studio? We headed toward the ladder to check out this exciting new discovery.

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is recovering from travel and catching up on current projects. She is reposting a few early installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her seventeenth post from March 2, 2017.

Part 17: Rolling the Drops

The drops were loosely rolled to transport down the winding staircase to the first floor in Fort Scott. There, they would need to be unrolled and rolled again onto cardboard tubes for shipping. Prior to any final rolling, however, they we carefully matched up with all of the corresponding scenes. Entire scenes were not lowered simultaneously; we slowly worked from upstage to downstage in succession for safety reasons.

A year earlier, I had completed this same task with Paul Sannerud and was absolutely dreading it. For the Winona scenery, we carefully flattened each scene on the floor and rolled each drop onto 6” tubes of PVC. This was an option due to the shorter length of twenty feet – the height of each scene. For Fort Scott we needed longer tubes -twenty-five feet, hence the cardboard tubes from North Carolina.

I had found a company that manufactured shipping tubes to order. Unfortunately, due to the initial contractual delays, the tubes were very late in arriving – so we had to alter my anticipated process. Instead of “lower, take downstairs, roll and stack” it became “lower, take downstairs, place somewhere, and wait to roll.” This meant that I had to divide each scene on the first floor and remember where all of the scenes were once we started rolling – as there would be a specific placement in order to unload the collection from the truck into the storage unit.

The difficulty of this task is always trying to roll a piece of fabric that is not flat. When a drop hangs for decades, the shape becomes altered over time and it is no longer a perfect rectangle. People fail to understand that the fabric continues to stretch from a variety of factors. Primarily, uneven pick points allow the weight of the batten at the bottom of the drop to reshape the rectangle into a trapezoid – often undetectable from the auditorium. Then there is the hourglass shape with curling edges on each side of the drop – very identifiable from the audience.

Furthermore, the air currents bellow out the center. Think of it as the center of the drop moving forward and backward, gradually stretching the fabric, resulting in a central sagging. These alterations are almost unperceivable, until you lay the fabric on the floor. Some areas will form bubbles, like when you played “parachute” in gym class. Remember how all of the edges could be brought to the floor and the center puffed up? A similar thing happens to the drop when all of the fabric settles to the ground, there are still irregularities in the center.

Another way to understand the difficulty of this task is to think of rolling linoleum on a tube. The rigidity allows it to roll perfectly. This is not what happens with old fabric and wrinkles appear. When wrinkles appear during rolling, the fabric subsequently creases and the paint it cracks off, thus forming an irreparable line.

Even after restoration, wrinkles often occur during rolling. That is the reason why I am so adamant about only restoring scenery on site. You might have a restored a drop and it looks perfect on the floor, but the rolling and transport will damage all of your work. Therefore, you would need to do additional work once it arrived at the space; work that would be extra and drive up the overall expense. This was another point of contention with the CEO. He refused to believe that the drops couldn’t be restored off site and transported without harm. In the end, he found someone to restore them off site. Upon inspection of the first few “restored” drops during February 2017, all of my fears about transportation after restoration were verified.

In Fort Scott, there was not a single space on the first floor where we could fully layout any drop. This added an additional layer of complexity to the process. Prior to rolling, we had to loosely “accordion pleat” about two-thirds of the scene.

I had always rolled up the drops on the floor, but my lead rigger Brandon invented a rolling machine that saved our backs, knees and the painted surface on many drops! He called his invention the “rigger–mo’-roll!”

He picked up sawhorses and casters from Kansas City to create a fabric roller. It took a while to assemble, but I was amazed at the end result. Not perfect, but the weight of the fabric would keep the rolls mostly taut and minimize the wrinkles. In the end, each drop would weigh 100 lbs. and take four robust individuals to safely transport it anywhere.

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is traveling for research and art acquisitions (October 14-29, 2017) she is reposting early installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her sixteenth post from March 1, 2017.

Part 16: Stonehenge

I need to explain a little history about the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry prior to discussing the Fort Scott Stonehenge composition. I will simplify this history as much as possible so that your eyes don’t glaze over before getting to the scenery part.

The Scottish Rite is divided into two jurisdictions that are based on geographical demarcations. The Southern Jurisdiction is west of the Mississippi and south of the Ohio River. This means that the majority of the country belongs to the Southern Jurisdiction. I am not going to discuss what caused the division or the reason for the appearance of multiple Supreme Councils (governing bodies) in the North.

In the past, I have argued (in various publications and in my doctoral dissertation) that the earliest degree productions were performed in the Northern Jurisdiction.

Why? My theory is competition.

You see, during the mid-nineteenth century there were competing Supreme Councils in the Northern Jurisdiction of the Scottish Rite. This was not the case in the Southern Jurisdiction where one Grand Commander ruled from 1859-1891 (Albert Pike).

If you are in competitive environment, WINNING requires more members and more money. Staging degrees was a great way to promote a superior ceremonial experience that would subsequently bring in more money. Keep in mind that during the 1920s there was even a candidate class of 1000! That is a pile of cash that results from initiation fees and membership dues.

Now in the Southern Jurisdiction, Grand Commander Pike passes away in 1891. Prior to his death, Scottish Rite stages were beginning to appear in the Southern Jurisdiction – especially Minnesota, a state that straddled the western geographical demarcation of the two jurisdictions. By the 1880s, small stages were appearing in Minnesota lodge rooms with settings for the obligatory (or indispensable) degrees. Each degree could be an individual play with the potential for multiple acts. Each act could have numerous scenes. Money determined the size of scenery collections. Some Valleys had small stage with a set of ten roll drops while others had massive auditoriums with over a hundred drops that would be lower from a fly loft.

Grand Commander Pike in the Southern Jurisdiction was against the elaborate staging of degrees, stating, “The Rite in this [Southern] Jurisdiction is a Rite of instruction, and not of scenic pomp and stage-show…I can not conceive of a more useless occupation than the arranging and performing of degrees, neither the effect nor the purpose of which is to make men wiser or better, but which are acted as melodramas…” This pretty much sums up why a lot of Masonic theaters didn’t appear throughout the Southern Jurisdiction until AFTER Pike’s death in 1891.

At this point, the Supreme Council initially takes a “non-action” as no one wanted to stop the growth of the Scottish Rite. This neutral action enabled the expansion of degree productions and theatrical interpretations of the degrees.

But some of the interpretations went a little too far – especially in Kansas. New designs began to appear – Stonehenge – for the Vedic scene in the 30th degree. There are two extant scenic designs depicting this composition – so the drop in Fort Scott, Kansas wasn’t an anomaly. But was it regionally specific to Kansas? You see, many regions developed unique interpretations for each degree.

Just a few hours to the west of Fort Scott in Wichita, there was another unusual composition that appeared. The stagehands still refer to this as the “goddess degree.” And I first encountered it during the summer of 2015 on our road trip from Fort Scott to Guthrie, Oklahoma.

Enter a new friend and kindred spirit Janet Wolter. Wolter co-authored “America, Nation of the Goddess: The Venus Families and the Founding of the United States” with Alan Butler.

We met while volunteering at the Minneapolis Scottish Rite library. One of our first discoveries was a handwritten Grange ritual. It was at this point when I exploring the ritual for the National Grange of the Order of Patrons of Husbandry. Beginning in 1867, it too had secret meetings, oaths, and passwords, incorporating themes from Greek and Roman mythology. This intrigued me and I thought about the Stonehenge and Goddess scenes in Kansas, telling Janet about my discoveries.

She suggested that Grange characteristics might have been incorporated into the ceremonies of other organizations. Were these new Scottish Rite compositions a type of outreach to Grange members? Was the Grange in Kansas an overt influence on the staging of Scottish Rite degree productions?

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is traveling for research and art acquisitions (October 14-29, 2017) she is reposting the first fifteen installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her fifteenth post from February 28, 2017.

Part 15: Raising Hell

Many Scottish Rite degrees can be narrowed down to three instructions: follow directions, respect others, and do the right thing. Doesn’t sound much like devil worship, does it? That being said, Scottish Rite Valleys are reluctant to show one particular stage setting to the general public – Hell. Throughout the country the composition is also referred to as Hades, the Dante drop, or the Inferno scene.

A simple explanation for the inclusion of this subject is that the scene depicts the fate for those who fall prey to temptation. It reinforces WHY you want to do the right thing. “Be a good person” doesn’t always work. “Be a good person or this terrible thing will happen to you” provides incentive. The setting often includes one cut drop and a backdrop, sometimes two cut drops for added depth and scenic effect.

Compositions frequently include a variety of demons and tortured humans.

Very seldom did the scene remain as a red cave, but that is the case in a few Valleys, including McAlester, Oklahoma. Fort Scott included one of the most popular depictions and was NOT painted by Thomas Moses in 1924. This scene was painted much earlier in 1904 and enlarged to fit the Fort Scott space during the 1924 installation.

It matches the same scene used in other Scottish Rite theatres, including Grand Forks, ND, St. Paul, MN, and Santa Fe, NM. It was a stock design, and a shiny one at that, being replicated multiple times during the first two decades of the twentieth century. But what makes this scene special? What is the visual appeal? The sparkles.

The hell scene used foil paper strips to outline many of the figures and rocky outcrops. Why? It was a scenic illusion to reflect the fiery pits of hell. As the drop would slightly move, the crinkled foil strips would reflect the light and sparkle, thus creating the appearance of flickering firelight.

Pretty cool effect, but very labor intensive. Especially when you consider attaching each strip with glue after having already spent a significant amount of time attaching the netting to the cut drops. It was an expensive scene to purchase. Refurbishing the hell scene in 1924 would have saved a significant amount of money for the Fort Scott Scottish Rite and a significant amount of time for Thomas G. Moses.

This is one of the scenes that make evaluations and restorations a delight. People always want their picture taken with this setting – especially if there is an entire group. The caption reads, “Work is Hell.” But then there also is hanging the restored of the scene and shouting “Let’s raise hell!” Or the response you give to your spouse when he asks, “How was work today?” and you respond, “It was hell.”

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is traveling for research and art acquisitions (October 14-29, 2017) she is reposting the first fifteen installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her twelfth post from February 25, 2017.

Part 12: The Volcano Scene 

The 17^th degree of the Scottish Rite can be one of the most exciting degree productions on a Masonic stage. Lighting flashes, thunder rumbles, the ground trembles, and a volcano explodes, toppling buildings in the foreground of a painted composition. A red plume of lava shoots into the air, while rivulets of lava stream down the mountainside and gradually spill into a lake. Slowly, the sky and water become a bright blood red.

The first time I documented this scene was at the Winona Scottish Rite Theatre, were volunteers assisted in successfully presentation.

This scene is often labeled “17^th degree Vision” and could include a variety of scenic effects, all dependent on the amount of money that the client was willing to invest. The Fort Scott scene was like Winona and quite elaborate, using netting, transparencies, translucencies, and a variety of rigging mechanisms to lower painted panels on the front of the cut drop.

The staging relates to the breaking of the seven seals in the Book of Revelations. Cataclysmic events occur and a variety of painted visions are magically revealed in transparent sections of the composition. Fort Scott had five small drops for the visions.

These small paintings were almost always the work of an inexperienced artist as it was a perfect opportunity for them to show their skills in drawing and figure painting. If it really was a horrific end product, it wouldn’t matter due to its placement on stage, plus the dim lighting would conceal most of the flaws.

I have often wondered whether these small scenic art projects were the work of the owner’s nephew at Sosman & Landis Studio. Over the years, I have stumbled across comments concerning this familial relation who was constantly given an opportunity to prove his artist ability and consistently failed. This might have been the perfect project to prevent him from ruining the remainder of any Masonic installation.

In my mind I imagine the following dialogue:

Artist 1: What are we going to have him paint this time? He doesn’t seem to be getting any better and he’s so slow!

Artist 2: Give him the Vision drops again.

Artist 1: But he can’t paint figures and it will take him forever!?!?

Artist 2: I know, but at least it will keep him busy and you can’t see much of the painting during the degree anyway.

Artist 1: Well, the art does represent the end of the world.

In the past, I have posted painted details of anatomical oddities from various Vision scene figures: breasts that were placed just below the collar bone, hair that defied gravity, hands that were unbelievably large, and faces with unnatural eye placement. Similarly, figures from the York Rite’s Sepulcher scene were often sporadic in terms of quality too. I frequently post these details with my standard comment,” and this is why drawing classes are important in scenic art training!”

The figures for Fort Scott were an interesting mixture of skill, but very inconsistent. I was reminded of the Vision scenes in Winona, Minnesota where one was “okay” and four were “pretty awful.” Although Thomas Moses was not a fabulous figure painter, I wondered if his onsite assistant was responsible for these paintings.

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is traveling for research and art acquisitions (October 14-29, 2017) she is reposting the first fifteen installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her eleventh post from February 25, 2017.

Part 11: Wooden Battens

Most drops in Scottish Rite facilities have wooden sandwich battens at the tops and bottoms of each drop. This means that the fabric is “sandwiched” between two pine boards. The battens at the top were typically 1×4 boards, whereas the battens at the bottom were 1 x 3 boards.

Drops were rolled in the studio without the battens and attached onsite during installation. Lumber for battens was ordered from companies specializing in theatrical lumber and shipped separately in linear feet, not pre-cut to shipment. Typically, the Scottish Rite Valley and the name of the recipient were stenciled onto the battens for shipping. I have frequently encountered these markings. Two examples that stick out are William Hayes Laird for the Winona Scottish Rite, and Charles Rosenbaum for the Little Rock scenery (moved to the Pasadena Scottish Rite in 1924). In the case of Fort Scott, Dr. Chas. Van K was the recipient.

Once the drops and the lumber arrived on site, the lumber for the top batten was laid in a straight line on the stage floor. This would become the backside of the top batten. It was secured to the stage floor with clout nails to prevent shifting while the top of the fabric backdrop was attached to it. The top edge of the drop was tacked down every four inches.

Once the fabric was secured, a second batten was placed on top to “sandwich” the drop. At this point slotted screws secured these two battens together. The entire batten was pried from the stage floor and the clout nails were hammered over into the wood. Half-inch holes were then drilled into the top batten for the pick points. A similar process happened to the bottom of the drop, but without the holes for pick points.

Bottom battens were especially important as the weight stretched out apparent wrinkles while hanging. Eventually wooden batten were replaced with pipe pockets. Usually the bottom battens were rounded, allowing them to easily pass by each other and not catch during raising or lowering of scenes. The shapes of wooden battens were anywhere from perfect ovals to angled edges. In Fort Scott, both the top and bottom battens were beveled at forty-five degree angles.

To transport or restore a scene, the battens are removed from the fabric. This is a slow process due to the initial assembly.

Most people don’t realize that these wooden battens contain a treasure trove of information pertaining to the transportation, installation, client, and artist. Fort Scott was the best example of “hidden text” that I have ever come across in my career. Often I have encountered a shipping stencil or the individual who would receive the lumber on site, but Fort Scott was truly unique. One example scribbled on the inside of these boards was the preliminary ordering of scenes.

Another depicted how a counterweight rigging system worked to raise and lower the drops.

Mathematical formulas were written and corrected everywhere. Even the onsite paint frame was disassembled and became part of the top wooden battens.

I was meticulous in documenting every hand written detail because I would later need this information to analyze the collection in its entirety. Clues were everywhere, and I had little time to catch them all. As the crew stripped the battens and hardware from the drops, they would shout out “Scribbles!” and I would come running with one of three cameras to make sure that a picture wouldn’t be blurred or lost.

The majority of the writing was that of Thomas Moses. I knew this as I was familiar with his writing. In most cases he was carefully explaining installation details to his crew

You can imagine the panic that I felt while sitting in the audience at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center concert February 2017 when I noticed that all of the wooden battens were missing. I immediately realized that those who “restored” the Fort Scott scenes had replaced the wooden battens with pipe pockets. My mind was reeling as I kept thinking, “All of that history is now lost.” I desperately hoped that the unused wooden battens were safely sitting in a storage unit somewhere, preserving the history for someone.

There is also the physics involved in sewing canvas pipe pockets onto old and fragile fabric. Often the pipes selected are not heavy enough to pull out the wrinkles. When the pipes are heavy enough, the stitching works like a perforated page and the pipe eventually falls to the floor.

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is traveling for research and art acquisitions (October 14-29, 2017) she is reposting the first fifteen installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her ninth post from February 23, 2017.

Part 9: Pepper’s Ghost 

I met the rest of my Fort Scott crew on the second day. We started the morning by setting up the catacomb scene for the 30^th degree. This would prove to be an ideal project, allowing us to start the day with something really fun. This scene included a stage effect called Pepper’s Ghost, an absolutely delightful scenic illusion – even for seasoned theatre people.

We rolled out the large and dirt encrusted Pepper’s Ghost chamber. This unit, as everything else on the stage, was coated with a thick layer of oily black residue. I had never encountered this particular type of surface contaminant before and was starting to feel a little uneasy about what it might be.

In terms of Pepper’s Ghost, it was obvious that a theatrical manufacturer did not professionally construct this unit. It also appeared to be a second-generation artifact, constructed by Masons during the mid-twentieth century. It is important to note that many Scottish Rite stage props and set pieces were “updated” or “touched up” with paint in the late 1940s through mid 1960s. Sometimes the originals were simply thrown out and rebuilt. Second generation replicas were often the product of industrious Masons or an ambitious stage crew, all with the mind set of “Hey, I know how to make this even better!” In some cases it worked, in most instances it failed – miserably.

The manufacturers of the Fort Scott unit proudly stenciled their creation with “A.A.S.R. Senic Building Corporation of Fort Scott, Kansas.” I wondered if the misspelling of “scenic” was intentional. Maybe “senic” was a play on the word “senior;” probably not. Regardless, it was a delightful piece of both theatrical and Masonic history that could be treasured by future generations. I immediately decided that it was coming with me.

Now it’s really important to understand what happens on the stage prior to the Pepper’s Ghost scenic illusion. The central opening of the drop is covered with a painted panel that will eventually fall to the floor.

To the immediate stage left side of this space is a translucent section in the drop with a passage of text. When front lit, this translucent section looks like a painted stonewall.

When backlit, portions of the wall reveal a text from the ritual: “He who shall overcome the dread of death shall ascend beyond the terrestrial sphere and be entitled to initiation into the Greater Mysteries.”

The text is illuminated and on cue, the painted panel slams to the ground, beckoning the actor to enter this dark chamber. After entering the space, the audience witnesses man’s mortality where the actor transforms into a skeleton. Pretty magical, isn’t it?

Here is how this stage effect works:

The unit is placed immediately behind the practical opening in the catacomb backdrop where hooks connect to eyebolts on the backdrop’s wooden supports.

In the corner of this “L” shaped unit is a moving piece of plate glass. This plate glass is placed at a 45-degree angle to the drop opening and the audience. At the correct moment, the glass slides “soundlessly” into place, moved with a hand crank and a cable.

The actor walks over the fallen door panel and through the opening; he remains in full view of the audience. He is fully lit with his own miniature spotlight in the chamber. This plate glass rolls into place, separating him from the audience while remaining entirely visible. The glass is undetectable.

A second light illuminates the skeleton, reflecting its image onto the plate glass. The lights on the actor go down and only the reflection of the skeleton remains. The mechanized skeleton with glowing red eyes even gestures to the audience with his bony hand! This is nineteenth century theatrical magic at work!

Eventually, the lights on the skeleton are turned off as the lights on the actor are turned back on, allowing the skeleton’s reflection to be replaced with that of the actor. The plate glass is rolled back and the actor is allowed to immediately exit the unit.

We were able to stage this effect and I witnessed the delight of my crew. In this instant, I knew that Pepper’s Ghost was going to accompany the drop collection back to Minnesota, including all six feet of plate glass and paper maché skeleton. Why restore a catacomb scene without the scenic effect? This was what made audiences gasp in wonder and delight. I even took a video so that the CEO and general director of Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center could understand the importance of the scene, but never received any response from either of them.

The mechanics of this unit were fascinating to examine. Behind the fly rail we had encountered another hand-made mechanical device; a converted sewing machine with cables to raise Jesus during the Ascension scene (18^th degree), thus replacing the original hand crack.

They were both delightful examples of mid-twentieth century ingenuity conceived and built by fraternal stage crews. These unique machines captivated my crew and they eagerly anticipated the discovery of other artifacts.

It proved be an ideal start for the second day and the duration of the entire project. Ty Prewitt of BellaTEX had assembled a good combination of unique personalities and individual expertise. The crew and I tentatively shared stories about each other, our families, and homes in the beginning. Each man was hardworking, easy going, accommodating, and fun. I was very lucky to have this particular crew as there would be numerous challenges around the bend. Every day would bring an unanticipated surprise.

To be continued…

Here is the link to a great article on Pepper’s Ghost. http://blog.cmog.org/2012/09/11/ghosts-and-magicand-glass/