Month: July 2018

Part 450: Thomas G. Moses and “Old Sleuth”

In 1903 Thomas G. Moses wrote, “We started the New Year with more work than last year.” The “we” was Moses and his partner Will Hamilton, having founded the New York studio of Moses & Hamilton. They used the paint frames at both the American Theatre and the 125^th Street Theatre. In addition to the seasonal work at the two theaters, they also accepted a variety of other projects, such as touring shows that traveled across the country.

Moses recorded that they took the show “Old Sleuth” to Elizabeth, N.J. for its final rehearsals. This was common for most of the shows that Moses worked on during this time. The majority of shows both rehearsed and opened in a smaller venues, where they could tweak any scenic or mechanical issues. After these trial runs, the productions went eiter on tour, or headed to Broadway.

The opening of “Old Sleuth” was rehearsed for three days whole days in Elizabeth, New Jersey. Moses wrote, “Everything worked fine – not a hitch.” However, on opening night the panorama in the tunnel scene fouled and stopped. Moses continued, “the driving rod fell off the locomotive and the Falls of Niagara refused to fall. Which caused a big laugh from the audience, and some profanity from the producers. After the show, I wanted to go back to New York, but the producers insisted on my remaining there. I had nothing to do with the actual working of the mechanical effects, but had to see that they were put in good working order, which I did in two days.” What a nightmare for Moses. It also speaks of the complicated aspect of many scenic elements for melodramas.

“Old Sleuth” was a five-act melodrama written by James Halleck Reid. After rehearsing the show in New Jersey, the show opened on October 27, 1902 at the Star Theatre in New York City, and toured across the country. “Old Sleuth” was both the creation and pseudonym of Harlan Page Halsey (1837-1898), a “dime novel detective” that appeared in the 1860s. The use of “Old Sleuth” was the equivalent to the 20^th century use of “Dick Tracy.” During thr late-nineteenth century, it became quite common place to see multiple references in newspaper articles reporting various crimes being solved “Old Sleuth” equivalents.

In 1874, the story “Old Sleuth, the Detective” was adapted for the stage in Manhattan at the Bowery Theatre. The Lebanon Daily News described the great detective play, reporting, “Old Sleuth is a character so well known to all lovers of sensational fiction further comment is unnecessary. The ‘Old Sleuth’ series of sensational detective stories from the pen of Chas. Garvice have been carefully dramatized into five thrilling acts and ten big scenes abundant with startling climaxes and intensely dramatic situations. Mr. Hal Stephens will portray the title roles and introduce his many lighting changes. He will be ably supported by a carefully selected cast of players, together with special mammoth scenery and marvelous mechanic effects” (Lebanon, PA, 1 Oct. 1902, page 2). A vehicle for lighting innovation and scenic effects, the play was packed with action adventure, including the rescue of the heroine from a burning bridge and another rescue in front of a speeding train.

The Philadelphia Inquirer reviewed the play when it was scheduled for the National Theatre, advertising, “A dramatic production which in its actions mirrors the caprice of temperament, sunshine, cloud, showers, raging storm and scented zephyr and has the atmosphere mingled and tangled over and over with thrilling and intensely powerful situations comes to the National this week. The play is labeled ‘Old Sleuth,’ a name familiar to those living in glittering palaces as well as to those that call a little hut in the desert their homestead, and where is one on the long plain that stretches from the Empire State to the Golden Gate, that has not read or heard of the cleverest of all detectives, ‘Old Sleuth?’ But non ever enjoyed the treat of seeing his doings realistically portrayed on the stage until Hal Stephens, surrounded by a cast of unusual excellence, went on a starring tour to move the many admirers of ‘Old Sleuth’ closer to him. The theme is so cleverly worked that sobs are followed by hearty laughs. The acting is startling, the scenery sensational and the mechanical effects of an order that will excite and thrill” (16 Nov. 1902, page 33).

The playwright “Hal” Reid was born in 1863 in Cedarville, Ohio. Interestingly, I found a few newspaper articles that placed his birth in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Although he remained an actor throughout the duration of his career, he is primarily remembered as a writer of melodramas. Reid was responsible for writing at least thirty melodramas between 1895 and 1908 that opened on Broadway. He later went to Hollywood were he worked as a screenwriter, actor and director. Reid was eventually associated with the Reliance Company, directing all of their productions. “Moving Picture World” reported that he was only director at the time to have filmed the President of the United States and royalty of the British reigning family (page 414). His son Wallace was also an actor, but tragically died of a drug overdose in 1923, only three years after the death of his father.

To be continued…

Part 449: R. M. Shurtleff and the Civil War

In 1903, Thomas G. Moses studied fine art with Roswell Morse Shurtleff (1838-1915). A few years earlier, the newspapers published an article about Shurtleff’s art during the Civil War. The story first appeared in the “New York Sun,” and later republished in newspapers all over the country. Here is “Designed Confederate Button” from the Lindsbourg Record in Kansas (Lindsbourg, Kansas, 13 July 1900, page 4).

“Of the many former confederate veterans who wear the button of the confederate veteran’s association very few know that the design of the button was first drawn by a union officer. The designer was Lieut. R. M. Shurtleff and he drew the original design without any idea that it would ever be officially adopted by the confederate army. This is how the matter came about, as Lieut. Shurtleff tells the story:

A few days before the first battle of Bull Run he was sent out on a small scouting expedition with a small party of men of the naval brigade Ninety-ninth New York volunteers, union coast guard, in which organizations he was the first lieutenant. He was to make a report on the condition of the country in front of the union forces. While reconnoitering with his party he was surprised and attacked by a much larger force of confederates, and after being shot through the body and arm, was captured with all his men. The small union flag which the artillery carried was used to bind up the leader’s wounds, and today Lieut. Shurtleff has in his possession, the officer who captured him having sent it to him with his compliments many years after the close of the war. For a time his condition was very serious, but his captors gave him the best care they could and as soon as possible he was sent to Richmond where he had hospital care. At that time the confederates were not well furnished with prison quarters for captives. Libby prison not having been opened, and the lieutenant eventually brought up in the Richmond poorhouse, where he had little to eat, but was treated very kindly.

Still weak from the effects of his wounds, he was unable to walk about and spend much of his time while lying on his cot in making drawings for his own amusement and for he edification of the soldiers. The officers got paints and brushes for him and he made water color sketches which he presented to them. One day one of the officers who had been very kind to him came to his cot and said, “I wonder if you could design a sort of patriotic emblem for me. ‘I might,’ replied the prisoner smiling, ‘but I suspect that your idea and mine of what a patriotic emblem is wouldn’t quite be identical.” “Very likely not,” agreed the other, “but this isn’t anything that you need to trouble your conscience about. Gen. Beauregard’s little daughter is a great chum of mine, and I promised her I’d get up some sort of a painting of a confederate flag for her to hang on her wall. I’ve been trying to think up something, but as a designer I’m no use. So it occurred to me that you might help me out.” “Why, of course, I’ll be glad to do whatever I can,” said Lieut. Shurtleff. Give me a few days’ time, and I’ll get something done in water colors.”

Getting out his paints, he set to work to sketch, and presently, with the instinct of an artist, became deeply absorbed in the manner of the design, working all that day and getting up early the next morning to continue the task, discarding one idea after another until he finally hit upon a design that suited him. This was the St. Andrew’s cross in blue on a red ground with minor ornamentation of stars. He finished it up handsomely in watercolors and turned it over to his confederate friend, who was much pleased with it and brought back word that little Miss Beauregard was highly delighted, and was going to importune her father to let the Yankee gentleman who made it go back north. Shortly afterward Lieut. Shurtleff was transferred to Libby prison, and in 1862 was exchanged.

He forgot about the design for the time. A year or so later it was called to his attention in rather a startling way as he saw a captured confederate flag consisting of his design almost exactly as he had painted it. Still later he saw an official flag of the confederate states of America, and there was another repetition of the design, for it formed the entire corner of the ensign. Naturally, the artist was not pleased with his friend, the confederate officer, who had put him in the position of furnishing flag designs for enemies of his country. From what he has since learned, however, Lieut. Shurtleff is inclined to believe that the officer was not in fault.

It seems that Gen. Beauregard saw the painting which had been given to his daughter, and on asking her about it was told that it was a flag of her country and belonged to her personally. He suggested that she present it to her country, and after some consideration she agreed, stipulating that the original be returned to her after copies had been made. The flag was then produced in cloth and Gen. Beauregard had it adopted as the battle flag of the confederacy. Just how it came to be incorporated into the official flag Lieut. Shurtleff doesn’t know. At the close of the war the southern association of veterans adopted the original battle flag design for their button, and all the confederate veterans’ associations now wear that design with some slight modifications or additions. Meantime Lieut. Shurtleff would be interested in finding out the exact steps by which the adoption of his watercolor as the basis of the national flag of the confederacy was brought about. There is probably some one still living who could enlighten him, but he doesn’t know how to come at the information.”

To be continued…

Part 448: Thomas G. Moses and R. M. Shurtleff

I return to the life and times of Thomas Gibbs Moses in 1903. Moses was living in Mt. Vernon, New York, and was running the scenic studio of Moses & Hamilton in New York City.  His his business partner was William F. Hamilton. Everything was on an upward swing, but it wouldn’t last for long. In less than a year, his he would return to Sosman & Landis in Chicago. When looking at the entire context of Moses’ career, this was his last true ascent before starting a slow decline from this pinnacle. There would still be many highlights, but Moses would always lament leaving New York and the potential that seemed possible in the fine art work there. In New York, he was able to study landscape painting with the famous artist R. M. Shurtleff.

In 1903, Moses wrote, “I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. R. M. Shurtleff, the famous interior wood painter. I showed him some of my sketches and he was rather pleased with them. So much so, that he finally agreed to take me on as a pupil. I could only spare a day each week, but that gave me great insight into his successful methods. I had been an admirer of his work for thirty years.”

Roswell Morse Shurtleff (1838-1915) was born in Rindge, New Hampshire, to Asahel Dewey and Eliza (Morse) Shurtleff. His firs studies were at Dartmouth College. Leaving the institution in 1857, he later received an honorary BS in 1882, suggesting that he never completed his initial studies. In 1857, Shurtleff took charge of an architect’s office in Manchester, New York. By 1858 he moved to Buffalo, New York, and began working in the field of lithography. He continued his artistic studies at the Lowell Institute of Boston, later attending the Academy of Design in New York from 1860 to 1861. There he worked as an illustrator for newspapers and engravers. He halted all artistic training to enter the Civil War in 1861, initially helping to organize the famous “naval bridgade” for the protection of Washington. His grandfather had as also a soldier, having served in the Revolutionary war with Gen. Peleg Wadsworth’s brigade. The elder Shurtleff had also fought in the battle of White Plains and later in the War of 1812.

R. M. Shurtleff enlisted in the Ninety-ninth New York Volunteers on April 16, 1861. Soon after, he was wounded and taken prisoner while on a scouting expedition. As a Southern Prisoner, he was held in Richmond and detained until February 22, 1962. It was often reported that he was the first officer to be captured as a prisoner of war.

After the Civil War, Shurtleff married Clara E. Halliday (b. 1846) on June 13, 1867. She was the daughter of Joseph B. and Eleanor (Carrier) Halliday of Hartford, Connecticut (Hartford Courant, 7 Jan. 1915, page 19). The marriage never produced any children.

 

It was during the late 1860s that Shurtleff tried his hand at magazine and book illustration. His projects included designing the cover for an edition of Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass.” He worked for the American Publishing Company in Hartford and also did several illustrations for Mark Twain’s “Innocent’s Abroad” and “Roughing It.” It was not until 1870, that Shurtleff began his fine art career in oils and watercolors in earnest. He opened a studio at the Charter Oak Building on Main Street in Hartford. In the beginning, he painted animals, but later focused on woodland landscapes.

In 1881, he became an Associate of the National Academy of Design and was elected a National Academician in 1890. Shurtleff was also a member of the American Watercolor Society. His artistic awards included a bronze medal at the 1901 Pan-American Exposition, a bronze medal at the 1904 St. Louis Exposition, and the Evans Prize of the American Watercolor Society in 1910. For thirty years he maintained a studio in New York City, spending his summers in the Adirondack mountains and painting scenes in the forests. His paintings are in prominent collection throughout the United States, including the National Gallery in Washington, D.C., and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

On January 6, 1915, newspapers reported that the artist Shurtless fell dead of heart disease in front of 860 Ninth Avenue (The Sun, 7 Jan. 1915, page 13). Shurtleff was on an errand for his wife, Clara, and possibly entering a pharmacy at the time. He was only 78 years old. I could not help think of another mentor of Moses’ who suffered the same fate a few years earlier on the Streets of Chicago – David Austin Strong. Shurtleff was a member of the Grand Army of the Republic, the Sons of the Revolution, the Salmagundi Club, and a variety of other social clubs.

Almost three decades later in 1932, Moses remembered his time spent with Shurtleff in New York. Moses recorded,” My love for the deep forests led me to the Studio of R. M. Shurtleff in New York, whom I considered a wonderful painter of the woods. I was very happy when he consented to take me on as a pupil. When he suggested my joining the famous Salmagundi Club I was doubtful if I could make it. As the picture I gave the club for my initiation fee was sold to one of the club members, this alone placed me in a good position and had I remained in New York instead of coming to Chicago I feel that I would have forged ahead in the higher art, and would have succeeded.” Shurtleff sponsored Moses’s membership in the Salmagundi Club during 1904. Later that same year that he would return to lead the paint shop at the Sosman & Landis studio. The frantic pace of the studio and numerous Masonic project coming in would slow down Moses’ fine art studies.

Of his own artistic style, Moses wrote, “My painting is of the old school, which to me is what I see in nature, my honest impression, which I have been honest in expressing the same – while some of the young artists just starting in the art world are being convinced that the radical modern idea is one big school to follow. I will cling to the Hudson River School of Painting that made George Innes, R. M. Shurtleff, A. H. Wyant, Robert Minor and many more. There are too many so-called “Moderns” that know very little of the rudiments of art, faulty in drawing and color.”

Later in life, it must have been hard to see everything that Moses had worked so hard to achieve challenged, dismissed and then dismantled. Moses would repeatedly mention Shurtleff throughout his memoirs and his instruction in landscape painting. In 1932, Moses wrote, “In 1904, I was at the peak of landscape painting in New York City, encouraged by my dear old friend, R. M. Shurtleff, N. A.” Moses would continue, “we scenic artists have a hard time [convincing] our brother artists that we are something more than mere craftsmen.”

To be continued…

Behind the Scenes

Photographs of historic scenery are often very static, especially in souvenir programs. Performers are carefully posed in front of scenes compositions. I think of the souvenir program for “Ben Hur” with the various actors in carefully arranged stage pictures. The one thing that Jo Whaley and I tried to convey in the book “The Santa Fe Scottish Rite Temple: Freemasonry, Architecture and Theatre” (Museum of New Mexico Press, 2018) was a sense of movement and allowing the reader to enter the scene. Whaley spent hours asking models to slightly move their head, hands, or walk in a certain direction during long exposure shots at the theater. Everything else remained perfectly still, but a slight blur suggesting movement activated the space. The first time she showed me the effect, I was blown away. Models were also positioned to break the picture frame and increase the overall depth with use of silhouettes.

This was a remarkable departure from many other photographs that depicted painted scenes on historic stages around the world. As we selected images for my chapter and the degree portfolio (Chapters 4 and 5 in the book), we decided upon some unnatural compositions too. A backdrop that becomes a blur, accentuating the cut drop details down stage; this was created by slowly pulling out the backdrop. One photo that I specifically requested was taking a picture of the auditorium from behind a cut drop. I have been taking these types of photographs for quite some time, as it helps give definition to netting, bobbinet, and theatrical gauze. My argument to include a composition like this in the book was that it placed the reader in the position of an actor on stage.

I enjoy photographing details in a theatre that the average person will never see, not unless you are an actor or stagehand. That is also why I suggested taking an image from the fly rail in Santa Fe, providing a stagehand’s view of the backdrop, cut drop, floor cloth, props and performers for the 4^th degree setting – the Holy of Holies. The collaborative effort was astounding. As Jo had worked for years as a scenic artist in California before focusing on photography in the 1970s, she understood what I was asking, but would still have me take a picture with my phone of EXACTLY what I wanted her to shoot. Then she would take a photograph for the book,  adding in her own expertise as a photographer to the composition. We spent hours over the phone “tweaking” each and every photo in the book, even if they were just historical photographs.

There was one type of composition that didn’t make the cut, and I completely understood the decision – the illuminated backside of a backdrop. Many historical drops used very thin layers of paint. I am not talking about glazing, but a thinner coat than many scenic artists used today. Furthermore, the strips of cotton sheeting that were sewn together for backdrops, cut drops and leg drops was MUCH thinner than we use for standard backdrops. The thin fabric, combined with the thin paint, makes a lovely effect when you view the composition from upstage side. The stage lights illuminate the drop and it always reminds me of a negative. The scene looks a bit surreal.

Today, I am sharing images that I have primarily taken for myself, never intended to share with anyone. Just like a picturesque landscape, or brilliant flower, I see beauty in many of these unusual details and perspectives.

To be continued…

 All That Glitters Isn’t Gold

There is something magical about metallic colors on painted scenery. Metallic gold shifts from a deep bronze in the shadows to a brilliant gold under light. Catching a glimpse of Dutch metal or foil strips from different angles makes a backdrop come to life. It can add life to the painted stage picture. However, the application of metallic accents must be sparse and effectively lit for it to work. Seldom have I encountered a metallic paint or a glitter glaze on Scottish Rite scenery; on my travels I have primarily encountered the use of foils. Early twentieth century Masonic scenery incorporated foil strips that suggested fiery blazes of the underworld or brilliant rays emanating from heaven above.

It was not until the 1920s that metallic paint began to replace the foil strips and Dutch metals, a popular effect throughout the nineteenth century for fairy scenes and sparkling underwater caverns. Many degree settings for Scottish Rite productions used foil strips to outline demonic figures and rocky outcrops. It was a scenic illusion suggesting the fiery pits of the underworld. As the drop moved, the foil strips reflected stage lights, creating a sparkle that suggested firelight. It was an extremely labor intensive process; especially when considering the amount of time already spent attaching netting if it was a cut drop. Hell scenes were incredibly expensive to create in a scenic studio.

 

Paper-backed foils are very visible from the audience, much more so than metallic paint or glitter. The crinkles on each foil strip allow reflective highlights to appear natural. Both Scottish Rite scenery collections in Joplin, Missouri, and Moline, Illinois, have areas accentuated with metallic paint and glitter, not foils. Both collections date from the 1920s. During this decade, many studio techniques became less labor-intensive and streamlined. The new techniques were not always an improvement, but cost effective as the new processes saved the studio time and money. Unfortunately, decades would reveal that many of the new studio techniques would prove problematic. One example is the replacement of individually gluing knotted intersections on netted cut drop with large swaths of glue along the perimeter. It was a faster process, but over time, these large areas of glue became brittle and puckered the painted surface. Those with dots of glue on knotted intersections remained flexible and undetectable from the audience.

In addition to the introduction of timesaving techniques, there were other factors to consider. The increased use of electric lights occasionally caused painted compositions to appear flat, necessitation the additional of metallic paint to palatial interiors, garden scenes, and treasure chambers to give it a little life and movement.   The increased intensity of electric light diminished the depth of painted scenery. Furthermore, a new generation of scenic artists lacked some the fine art experience acquired by their predecessors, thus incorporating new painting techniques that departed from a more traditional stage aesthetic. The increased use of draperies and dimensional scenery further shifted scenic art techniques and use of alternative materials.

I was delighted to encounter the metallic paint and glaze with glitter on some of the Scottish Rite scenery in Joplin, Missouri, on the final day of our trip. The fiery scene from the underworld was a lovely composition where demonic eyes were accentuated with a glitter glaze. Metallic paint was also applied to the gold bases of palatial columns for ornamental detail and highlight. This was an attempt to accentuate the metallic quality of the columns base, yet remained barely visible from the first row. I wonder if this was more for the Masonic client as they inspected it up close instead of for the actual Scottish Rite audience during a degree production. The painted metallic accents in Joplin and Moline are far less spectacular than those foil strips applied to Scottish Rite scenes for Cheyenne, WY; St. Paul, MN; Grand Forks, ND, Wichita, KS; Winona, MN; Fort Scott, KS; Tucson, AZ; an many other Southern Jurisdiction Scottish Rite Valleys. The quick dabs of metallic paint may have taken far less time for scenic artists to apply than foils, but they failed to deliver the same visual punch.

To be continued…

One of the best surprises after returning from the Santa Fe Scottish Rite Temple book release was receiving my copy of “Die Vierte Wand” from Germany! I am proud to announce that my article “Raising Hell on a Masonic Stage” is included in the #008 issue . Stefan Gräbener does a fantastic job with this publication every year! It is a wonderful compilation of articles about theatre from around the world. Here is the link to access their website and past issues: http://www.initiative-theatermuseum.de/i…/publikationen.html

 …when she was bad, she was horrid…

I needed a break from all of the trials and tribulations that life throws at you on a holiday. This 4^th of July I was juggling food preparation, an overgrown garden, and a malfunctioning hot water heater, while putting out all of the other fires that occurred during our trip to Santa Fe. For a short while that afternoon I escaped, hiding in my office and pulling up some pictures of painted details. I needed something to make me laugh.

On multiple occasions, I have stressed the importance of good artistic training, whether it is at a formal atelier or in a studio arts class. Good scenic artists need instruction in all areas – layout, drawing, painting, color mixing, netting, etc. However, the most important skill for a scenic artist is drawing all subjects well. A scenic artist cannot create a successful painting unless the drawing is correct. No matter how well you mix colors or master certain brush strokes, if your composition is poorly drawn, the final composition will never look good.

Drawing and rendering must go hand and hand with learning how to become a successful scenic artist. It is always apparent when a scenic artist did not receive adequate training in figure drawing or architectural studies. You need to really know how something is put together, whether it is a body or a building, to successfully draw it.

Our daughter returned home from college this week for the holiday and shared a picture of a lion sculpture that she recently encountered I Kansas City. The Greek sculptor had never seen a lion before, so he gave his version the hips of a cow, the vertebrae of a goat, the ribs of a horse, and human eyes, while posing the animal as a playful dog.

My daughter giggled uncontrollably as she shared the image. The artist obviously did not understand how a lion was “put together.” The same can be said for scenic artist who does not understand human anatomy.

Figure drawing remains a challenge for many scenic artists. I have encountered many examples where the scenic artist had no concept of proportion, or even how many toes to paint. Here are a few examples that stress the importance of figure studies and always brighten my day; they make me feel a little better about my own skills.

Whenever I look at these pictures, I think of the nursery rhyme that starts: “There once was a girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead…”For the scenic artist I continue the rest of the rhyme: “When she was good, she was very, very, good. And when she was bad, she was horrid.” Some historical scenic art for the stage was truly horrid. Just because it’s old, doesn’t mean its always good.

To be continued…

Reflections about Scottish Rite Scenery, Spatter and Lighting

For some artists, the use of spatter is always the final step in painting every backdrop. Shaking a brush to scatter little dots of warm and cool colors throughout the painting completes the composition. This was not a common technique before the 1920s.

Spatter is used for a variety reasons. It can break up solid areas in a setting and provide texture. It can help shape and define objects such as tree trunks, interior walls, draperies, meadows and the exterior of buildings. It may suggest atmospheric conditions, such as rays of light emanating from clouds overhead or a hazy landscape.

Sometimes, it is intended to help the composition, anticipating the possibility of a poor lighting design. As many of us know, certain light colors can “kill” portions of a painted scene, sapping the life out of the color. Spatter is a way to resuscitate a scene when poorly lit with an inappropriate color choice. Some individuals in charge of lighting a historic scene may not be familiar with the demands of two-dimensional settings and let one color dominate their palette – green for forests, red for hades. Proper lighting that mixes a few colors can make backdrops appear as magical and transformative. Uninformed choices in regard to color and intensity will make a backdrop static and lifeless. I have walked into many Scottish Rite buildings where the lighting fails to show the potential of what is possible on stage; the backdrops are lit with whatever color is predominant in the scene. Lighting is an important aspect of Scottish Rite degree productions as the scenes were designed with specific scenic illusions in mind and specific lighting. Often the border lights are red, blue and white. When more colors have been added in contemporary systems, they are seldom balanced to enhance the painted settings.

The Masonic stage crew often does not realize that there are transparent and translucent sections in painted compositions, intended for surprise revelations or the magical appearance of a hidden object or message. In some instances beautiful woodland scenes have the ability to depict brilliant sunsets, and this scenic effect has been forgotten over the decades. Stained glass windows in cathedrals will glow, enhancing the setting for a degree. Many Scottish Rite stage crews no longer realize the potential for each painted setting as a lot of the backdrops are no longer used during a reunion. Declining membership, shrinking stage crews, and the loss of backstage “memory” are all factors that now conceal these popular visual effects.

As Scottish Rite theaters continue to upgrade their lighting systems, some theatre consultants and system installers fail to understand that potential of historical backdrops and their lighting needs for degree productions; borders lights are replaced with a few individual lighting instruments. Clients are promised that the actors will be more visible with modern lighting, yet the painted illusion becomes collateral damage. Some of the new lighting systems for Scottish Rite stages have destroyed the historical aesthetic of the venue when the primary focus is redirected to the sole illumination of the actor – not the stage picture. Instead of placing an character within a scene as part of a unified whole, the performer is now placed in the midst of unevenly lit stage pictures that appear flat and unrealistic. The magic is disappearing.

The Hastings Scottish Rite was one just example of how a new lighting system was designed and installed for a historic venue without taking into an account that the purpose of the stage and that majority of performances would use painted drops. Sadly, all of the painted scenery now shows a series of “hot spots” across the top, accentuating wrinkles and other flaws on the painted surface. The previous border lights that provided a general wash over the painted surface were replaced with instruments that were not intended to illuminate large-scale paintings.

In terms of modern lighting systems in Scottish Rite theaters -the Scottish Rite scenes from the 1920s that incorporated spatter into the painting process do better than those without. However, there is only so much the scenic artist can do to protect a composition from poor lighting conditions.

To be continued…

 The Joplin Scottish Rite, July 3

We returned to Minnesota on July 2 at midnight after the long drive from Joplin, Missouri. Over the course of eighteen days, we visited ten historic theaters and I was able to document historic scenery at seven. The trip was intended not only for research, but also for the marketing of our new company Historic Stage Services, LLC (www.historicstageservices.com)

In addition to the book release event at the Santa Fe Scottish Rite theater, I photographed and catalogued entire Scottish Rite scenery collections in Omaha, Nebraska; Hastings, Nebraska; Cheyenne, Wyoming; Salina, Kansas; and Joplin, Missouri. I also photographed historic scenery at the Atlas Theatre in Cheyenne and the Tabor Theatre in Leadville, Colorado. The Tabor was especially exciting as I dug through wings, borders and roll drops that had been stored since the turn of the twentieth century.

As we drove home, I began the laborious task of labeling thousands of photographs. It is at this point that I am able to identify defining characteristics of specific collections, especially when examining images of painted details. Then I go through each historic venue and construct the current inventory and how it has been altered, added to, or shifted over the past decades. As I went through my pictures, I was able compare compositional layout, painting techniques, color palettes, and drop construction for a variety of scenic studios. My trip provided me with the opportunity to closely examine the work of competing studios over the course of decades in a very short period of time. This allows the visual aesthetic and construction information to remain fresh in my mind.

I am in the depths of examining the Fabric Studio of Chicago and its link to Toomey & Volland of St. Louis, Sosman & Landis of Chicago, Kansas City Scenic Co., and the Great Western Stage Equipment Co. of Kansas City. My last stop at the Joplin Scottish Rite confirmed a few of my suspicions in regard to a shift in scenic studio practices and art during the 1920s. A younger generation took over the innovation in stage design and technology. Men, and in some cases women, ascended to the top of their profession and eclipsed the previous generation of scenic artists. This does not mean that they were better or worse, just different. A shift was occurring in the field of scenic art. Seasoned artists left their positions with the “old guard” of scenic studios and began to create their own new studios, causing old alliances to crumble. This also market the collapse of a unifying aesthetic for the stage. Gentlemanly agreements between studios during the first two decades of twentieth century ceased and new fabrics were introduced as an alternative for the common cotton sheeting of backdrops.

At the Joplin Scottish Rite, it is apparent that some of the drops were created by an older scenic artist still working in the traditional style of scene painting, but the color palette shifts to the predominance of brighter colors. The use of horizontal seams for drop construction, jute webbing at the top and pipe pockets at the bottom began to appear across the country. This method of fabrication followed the construction of fabric draperies for the same venues.

In terms of netting, the individual drops of glue on knotted intersections were replaced with swathes of glue brushed along entire edges, forming a crusty perimeter that greatly reduced the necessary labor to create a cut drop. Similarly the painstaking placement of foils that allowed a scene to sparkle, or suggest a fiery reflection, begin to be replaced with a layer of metallic flakes and glitter-like product. This again saved the amount of later needed to create a similar effect.

The Scottish Rite scenery in Joplin also depicts the use of spatter for a painted composition. Bright blue, mineral orange and other colors are spattered across the final painting. In some cases, the use of spatter subdues an earlier application of colors that are too bright to begin with, so another layer of paint must help recede into the background. In some of the Joplin scenery, spatter almost obliterates the detail, yet enforces depth in the painting.

I regard these modern painting techniques that eventually shifted the evolution of scenic art with some bias; I prefer the older style. I associate traditional scenic art techniques with that of the Dusseldorf and Hudson River schools. There is a soft, but dramatic atmosphere that visually envelopes the painted composition. Although there are subtle differences in paint techniques, such as glazing or the opaque application of colors as I have previously examined, there is a uniformity of brush stroke and final aesthetic. The modern school of scenic art takes a subtle departure from this aesthetic. Not always visible from the audience, it becomes apparent as one approaches the scene. Both the traditional and modern fall apart into areas of separate color, as the painting should, there is a distinct difference to the educated eye.

Here is the best parallel that I can think of, and it pertains to the work of fine art. If you take a landscape painting produced by a Hudson River School artist and compare it with the paintings of Thomas Kincaid (Painter of Light), you can see the shift. There is romanticism in each composition, an attempt to relay atmospheric conditions, a sense of beauty and an attention to detail. However, Kincaid’s paintings are distinctly contemporary. For me, they are slightly “off” and don’t capture what the nineteenth century artist conveyed to their audience.

This is what I see happening in the scenic studios during the 1920s, an approach that has its foundation in some traditional scenic art techniques, but the final product is slightly “off.” The modern scenic art compositions evolve in two distinct directions. One way is a final product that is too clean, crisp, and carefully blended; this is the direction of Hollywood and the creation of scenery for film settings. Beautiful techniques and lovely compositions, but a distinct departure from traditional stage painting. After all, it is creating scenic illusion for a new art form – one that needs greater detail for the camera and close-ups. The second direction is much less controlled. The technique isn’t quite there, so the composition is altered with layers of spatter over high contrast areas in order to unify the entire composition. This is not meant to say that either of these approaches is a lesser art form, but they are a distinct departure from a previous stage aesthetic.

Over the next week, I will start to compare various painting techniques and their characteristics before returning to the life and times of Thomas G. Moses in 1903. This helps me as I approach examining the “first golden age” of Scottish Rite scenery production. This is the surge that takes place just prior to WWI. The 1920s then usher in the “second golden age” of Scottish Rite scenery production before everything begins a slow descent.

To be continued…

The Joplin Scottish Rite, July 2

I arrived at the Joplin Scottish Rite by 8:15am. We examined all of the backdrops over the next four hours, with Andrew and the Secretary Richard Lowery handling the lines. Richard worked tirelessly with my husband to raise and lower the lines while I catalogued each drop, photographed painted details, and set entire scenes. To show our appreciation, we took Richard out to lunch at a fabulous local restaurant – the Red Onion.

At the Joplin Scottish Rite, I was like a kid in a candy store, as I uncovered a new scenic studio stencil – The Fabric Studio.

It will take many more hours to untangle the compilation of various installations, only some attributed to the Fabric Studio, after closely examining the backdrops in context. The majority of scenery contain a studio stamp for Fabric Studio of Chicago, located at 117 N. State, 4^th floor, Chicago, Illinois. However, the drops were not all produced at the same time or for the same venue. One distinguishing characteristic of many backdrops is the horizontal seams on octagonal-shaped sandwich bottom battens. They are a distinct departure from late-nineteenth century oval battens.

The earliest mention of the Fabric Studio that I have located to date is in 1921; the company was advertising for girls to help in the sewing room (Chicago Tribune, 27 August 1921, page 14). From all appearances, this was second generation scenic studio, like many that emerged during the twenties when scenic artists left the employ of the larger, companies to strike it out on their own. They began competing with the older studios and offering a new aesthetic. The Fabric Studio was a competitor to the Kansas City Scenic Co., of Kansas City. In 1922, the Wellington Daily News reported that two scenery salesman were competing for the contract of a new front curtain and the scenery for the new Memorial Auditorium project: E. L. Gossage of Kansas City Scenic Co. and W. S. Mayer of the Fabric Studios of Chicago (Wellington, Kansas, 25 August 1922, page 1). Gossage would later be the salesman for the Great Western Stage Equipment Company of Kansas City.

The Fabric Studio of Chicago is credited with the painted scenery for the 1922 Orpheum Theatre in Wichita, Kansas. The Wichita Eagle (3 September 1922, page 48) reported the Fabric Studio’s work as including the original asbestos curtain depicting a gold gauze curtain with an exterior garden scene, a Spanish market scene; a silk velour for the valance; a grand drapery; a silver gauze tableaux curtain; a picture sheet; “two exterior oleos and drops;” a complete conservatory set; and a complete Gothic set.

The chief artist to the Fabric Studios of Chicago was P. T. Blackburn who worked mostly on the fine plushes, satins, and velours, such as the gold gauze front curtain and the silver gauze tableaux curtain for the Orpheum.

By 1949, Blackburn would become the head artist for Paramount Studios and a weekend resident of the San Jacinto mountain resort area (The Desert Sun, Palm Springs, California, 17 May 1949, page 4). In addition to scenic art, he and his department also developed new stage equipment and curtain tracks for scenery painted by Paramount artists.

This explains the exceptional hand-painted silk curtains in the practical opening of some Joplin Scottish Rite scenes. Blackburn was the head of the artistic staff for several stock companies over the years, including the Grand Players from Davenport, Iowa.Another artist on staff at the Fabric Studios was Max Schroeder, who specialized in landscapes. The Fabric Studio’s head installation expert was J. A. Bannon, credited as “an old timer in the show business and has installed scenery in theaters in nearly every city in the United States” (Wichita Daily Eagle, 3 September 1922, page 48).

There is more to report about this unique collection and its current condition, but that will be saved for tomorrow.

To be continued…