From July 11 until July 20, 2019, I was on the road, traveling from Minneapolis to Philadelphia and then back again. In Philadelphia I attended the League of Historic American Theaters National conference from July 14-17. My good intentions to daily write about interesting sites and events were rapidly dashed when I realized that there was simply not enough time each morning.
As one of 330 attendees, I participated in a series of educational sessions and networking opportunities. The conference also included trips to visit nearby historic theaters on two of the four days. Our first visit was to the well-known Academy of Music in Philadelphia, an entertainment venue considered to be the oldest opera house in the United States that is still used for its original purpose. As noted in the LHAT program: “The Academy of Music is currently owned by the Philadelphia Orchestra and managed by Kimmer Center Inc. but the long-term caretaking of the building is overseen by a third entity: the Academy of Music Restoration Fund Office, a non profit with its own board of trustees and a mission to raise all the money required for the ongoing capital projects that ensure the structural integrity and long-term preservation of a National Historic Landmark.”
I was excited to see the Academy of Music because of one particular scenic artist who once painted for the venue. Although this aspect of the theater’s history is no longer part of the current steward’s story, the nineteenth century scenic illusion and dramatic painting delivered to Philadelphia audiences should not be forgotten; it is extremely exciting in its own right. Exciting enough that I felt my eyes tear up when I walked into the space. Creating the drop curtain and scenery for this theater placed a feather in the cap of any scenic artist during the nineteenth or twentieth century. His work was viewed by thousands of theater patrons.
This spring, my “Tales of a Scenic Artist and Scholar” looked at painted contributions to Philadelphia theaters noted in an 1894 newspaper article. “Well-known Drop Curtain in Philadelphia Theatres,” was published in “The Philadelphia Inquirer” on Dec. 18, 1894. One section of the article described four painted curtains by Russell Smith for the Academy of Music. They included the drop curtain, a Romeo and Juliet drop, an asbestos curtain, and a Japanese silk tableau curtain.
Of Russell Smith’s scenic contributions to the Academy of Music, the article continues:
“It is claimed by managers that a handsome drop curtain has much to do with the drawing qualities of the house. A charming landscape depicting the greenest of lawns, sparking fountains, rare shrubbery and bright flowers, the dimpled surface of a placid lake, with magnificent hills or rugged mountains in the distance to kiss the brightest fleecy clouds, forms an ensemble well calculated to put the audience in good humor to witness a play. And when let down between the acts it has a tendency to calm the soul after turbulent passages and rouses it to cheerfulness after tearful ones.”
“One of the happiest examples of this style of curtain is seen on the handsome ‘drop’ at the Academy of Music. It was painted by Russell Smith in 1857, and has been in continuous use for the past thirty-seven years, during which time has apparently lost none of its original freshness of coloring, and is considered one of the finest specimens of that famous artist’s work. It is entitled “Como,” but the actual scene is from sketches made by the artist at the head of Lake Lugano, in Northern Italy. A conventional design representing a huge frame, surrounds the picture while in the center of the lower border is a Greek bust. The scene pictures a view of “Como” in summer time. There are the finest of Italian skies, the glitter and sheen of the greenish blue waters of one of the loveliest lakes in the world. In the left foreground rises a terrace with broad, low steps leading down to the shimmering waters of the lake. To the right, in the immediate foreground is a mass of semi-tropical foliage overhanging the cool and sparkling waters of the lake. Beyond rise several palaces of the nobility; while in the background the sloping sides of the mountains are gemmed with castles and palaces. Gondolas float on the placid waters of the lake, while some of the palaces seem set like jewels in the opalescent waters.”
I am still surprised that the drop curtain had remained in place for thirty-seven years by 1894, when many other theaters replaced their drop curtain and scenery every decade. This suggests to popularity of Smith’s work, especially in light of the drop curtain’s purpose described above. To last in place for almost four decades and remain unknown by the current theater stewards today is surprisingly. The 1894 article continued to describe the composition of another drop painted for the Academy of Music by Smith in 1883:
“The main curtain, often called the Romeo and Juliet drop, in use at the famous temple of music was painted by Russell Smith in 1883. It represents a moonlight scene from a terrace overlooking a lake. A gondolier has approached an overhanging balcony window, and delivers himself of his tender passion to the lady, who leans over the balcony rail while she listens to the music of his mandolin. The whole scene, faintly illuminated by the mystic light of the silvery moon falling on the rippling waters of the mist-covered lake, and the blue velvet curtains that drape the door opening on the terrace, with its mosaic floors and stone balustrade, making a witching moonlight scene.”
Smith also painted a fire curtain for the Academy of Music three decades after delivering the initial drop curtain. His asbestos curtain was claimed to be the first of its kind in the United Stated:
“The asbestos curtain at the Academy of Music is distinguished as the first asbestos curtain ever put in any American playhouse in America, and as far as is known, is the first in use in the world. It is made in three sections, the lower third of which has the asbestos pressed in on both sides. It was also painted by Russell Smith in 1887, and represents only a flight of steps nearly hid by a mass of red drapery.”
Finally, the article noted another scenic contribution by Russell, a tableau curtain:
“Another curtain at the Academy is the tableau curtain, made of pure Japanese silk and handsomely decorated along the border by Russell Smith, who has also painted 80 per cent of all the scenery at the Academy. The tableau curtain is made of a series of alternating perpendicular breadths of light blue and white Japanese silk with a satin finish to its surface. The curtain is divided down the center and has a border of flowers around each half. Along the bottom on an eight-foot border, are placed six large medallions representing scenes from ancient history and mythology on the left and modern views on the right.”
I was most intrigued with this particular scenic piece described in the article. This is the first description of a tableau curtain that I have encountered to date. The specific mention of Japanese silk makes me consider the incredible expense of the piece, as well as the difficulty in its painting. The decoration of the eight-foot high border was quite complex, especially when considering that individual scenes were painted in each of the in six medallions within the floral area.
This is such an astonishing heritage, transforming the theater experience for each event. It is a shame that we have lost so much beauty over the decades. Just imagine if those same scenes were redelivered today, would they still stun audiences?
To be continued…
