Gilmore’s Auditorium constructed at 807 Walnut Street in Philadelphia, just one in a series of popular nineteenth-century theaters located at the same address. Welch’s National Amphitheatre and Circus, the Continental Theatre, the American Variety Theatre, Fox’s New American Theatre, the Grand Central Theatre, and Gilmore’s Auditorium. The tale of four fires is presented in an interesting post by Harry Kyyriakodis about about the various entertainment venues at this address. Here is the link: https://hiddencityphila.org/2013/05/blazing-ballerinas-and-a-rampaging-elephant-at-807-walnut-street/
The theater’s proprietor, William J. Gilmore, had made a career in theater management by the time Gilmore’s Auditorium was constructed. He had successfully managed several Philadelphia theaters as well as others across the country.
“The Times” included an article on Gilmore’s Auditorium rising from the site of the burned Central theatre on June 4, 1893 (page 15). The article reported, “From the ruins of the New Central Theatre is rapidly rising a new building that will be, when completed, one of the finest playhouses in America. The new theatre will be known as ‘Gilmore’s Auditorium,’ and built in the Moorish style of architecture, from brownstone, terra cotta and light buff brick, beautifully embellished with colored glass and new electric lights. Architect John D. Allen, under whose direct supervision the house is being erected, has provided every device known to modern science that contributes to the safety and comfort and convenience of the prospective patrons, resulting in a building that is practically fireproof. One of the chief factors contributing to this end of the building is the proscenium wall, having no opening between the stage and auditorium except the arch, which is protected by a heavy asbestos curtain, while the stage roof is fitted with an automatic ventilator, so adjusted that a rise of a few degrees in temperature will at once open it and form an excellent flue by means of which any flames that might possibly break out in the stage or among the scenery, would be diverted from the building proper. The system of heating and ventilating adopted has been proved absolutely effective, thus insuring a cool house in summer and a warm one in winter. The colors selected for all interior decorations are such that everything harmonizes in the manner, forming a perfect rest for the eyes, which is not destroyed even when the full glare of the innumerable electric lights is turned on. So rapidly has the work of construction progressed that although the ground was broken only on February 8 last, it is expected to throw open the building for inspection early in August. Taking into consideration that only thirty-two clear working days were available since the beginning of the work the progress has been wonderfully rapid, although everything has been done in the most careful and workmanlike manner.”
Gilmore’s Auditorium was illuminated by electricity and boasted a seating capacity of 3,076. John R. Wilkins was listed as the scenic artist in Julius Chan’s Official Theatrical Guide, 1896. With the theatre on the ground floor, the proscenium measured 33 feet wide by 34 feet high, with the distance from the footlights to the back wall being 30 ½ feet. The distance between the side walls was 75 ½ feet and the distance between the girders measured 42 feet. It was 60 feet from the stage to the rigging loft, with the depth under the stage measuring 9 feet. There were three traps and one bridge along the back wall. By 1905, Gilmore’s Auditorium became the Casino Theatre, soon gaining a reputation as a popular burlesque venue.
The Gilmore’s Auditorium asbestos curtain was mentioned in “Well-known Drop Curtains in Philadelphia Theatres,” published in “The Philadelphia Inquirer on Dec. 18, 1894. Instead of listing the scenic artist, the article highlighted the stage carpenter for his innovative stage machinery- hydraulic engine was used to lift the asbestos curtain.
“The asbestos curtain in Gilmore’s Auditorium is a model of its kind. The curtain is thirty-four feet wide by thirty-six feet high, and is lifted and lowered by means of a one-half inch steel wire cable over a drain in the flies. The curtain, which is nearly one-half an inch thick, is not rolled up, but lifted bodily, away up in the flies by a small hydraulic engine. It is painted a creamy buff in harmony with the other decorations, but is devoid of any ornament save the single word “Asbestos” painted in the center. All of the act and scene “drops” in this popular amusement temple, like the asbestos drop, are made to lift bodily, the system, which is new, being devised and put in by Mr. Gilmore’s stage carpenter, H. J. Overpeck.”
. The only information that I have uncovered pertaining to anyone named Overpeck in the theatrical profession is an A. J. Overpeck who was listed as a stage machinist with Baitley Campbell’s Siberia in Harry Miner’s Professional Directory (1884). By 1896, Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide would list Harry Spillman as the stage carpenter and electrician.
Of asbestos curtains, however, an interesting article was published the same year in the “Boston Globe” (23 Feb. 1894, page 8).
“Asbestos Curtain at the Boston.
It is the duty of every theatrical manager to provide his patrons with the best protection possible against fire. No means has yet been discovered equal to a fireproof curtain, and such a one as the Boston Theater has just been put in place is the best of its kind. The curtain is 52 by 50 feet and is made entirely of asbestos. It is hung by wire rope which runs through iron chives [sheaves] fastened into the brick wall over the proscenium, and as all the battens are of iron piping, there is not a bit of woodwork or anything combustible about the entire construction.
The curtain was put in place by Mr. W. P. Prescott, the theater’s machinist, who also made all of the machinery. Last week a test was made before the insurance commissioner, and he pronounced it a splendid piece of mechanism and an ample protection.
By pulling a small wire rope at the prompt stand the curtain can be lowered in three seconds, so that in case of fire not an instant will be lost in shutting off the auditorium from the stage by an asbestos wall through which no flames could penetrate.”
Furthermore, an article in the “Democrat and Chronicle” (Rochester, New York) on Dec. 6, 1894, was entitled “Theater Fires” (page 6). It reported, “Statistic of theater fires from 1751 to the present year have been compiled by the Scientific American, and the figures show a total of 460 theaters destroyed in all countries during the period covered. There were 31 of these disasters in London, 29 in Paris and 29 in New York. The number of victims was great, but as separate lists of the killed and wounded are not given, no accurate statement of the loss of life can be made. It was, however, appalling.” The article later commented, “We believe that most of the modern theaters in this country afford fair protection of their patrons, by means of asbestos curtains, which can be lowered quickly, separating the stage from the auditorium, and by reasonably ample facilities for exit.”
Finally, as asbestos curtains gained prominence by the end of the 19th century, a funny article came out that reminded me of the plain asbestos curtain hanging at Gilmore’s Auditorium. It was published in the “Philadelphia Inquirer” on Feb. 7, 1897, page 20: “I has an afternoon off this week,” said a well-known comedian to me last evening, “and as I had nothing else to do I wandered into a theatre where a matinee was being given. Directly in front of me sat two stylishly-gowned girls, and they wore hats that were veritable flower gardens. Of course, I could se very little of the stage, but I was repaid by the charming conversation I was forced to overhear. It was just previous to the opening overture and the fair maids were discussing the asbestos curtain.
“That curtain is not half as pretty as the one they used to have here,” said one.
“No indeed it is not, chimed in the other.
“By the way, Marie, who was Asbestos?”
“Asbestos?” queried her friend.
“Why Asbestos was a Roman general, wasn’t he?”
“Was he?”
“No. Laura; let me think – Oh, I remember now; he was a mythological character.”
“Why to be sure he was,” acquiesced Laura.
“How foolish of me not to have thought of it.”
“And they resumed munching caramels.”
To be continued…
