Month: September 2019

In 1911, Thomas G. Moses wrote,  “Pausback had his hands full; Scott acted bad.  Got Geo. Schultz on the staff at 20^th Street. I was obliged to remain at the Clinton Street studio only going to 20^th Street every other day.” Moses mentioned many Sosman & Landis scenic artists during his life. He greatly respected Pausback and his contribution to the studio.

In 1907, Moses first mentioned Pausback, writing, “I depended a great deal on Pausback to look after the work while I was away.”  Two years later, Moses mentioned him again when Pausabck took control of the 20^th Street Studio. M<oses recalled that Pausback provided plenty of help “to rush the work through.” There was no question that Moses had great faith in Pausback’s abilities. By 1917 Pausback was still working at the Sosman & Landis annex and would remain with the company until its liquidation in 1923.

Nicholas John Pausback Jr., was born on May 5, 1881, in St. Louis, Missouri.  He was the son of St. Louis residents Nicholas J. Pausback, Sr. (1853-1900) and Caroline Pausback (1859-1943), each born and raised in the city. By the end of his life, Pausback’s obituary credited him as being a “scenic artist de luxe”(Chicago Tribune 14 May 1953, page 36).  Other notices reported his staying in the theatrical scenery business for 45 years with his wife Ottilia, and not retiring until 1947.

Pausback became the founder of Pausback Studios by 1927, four years aftert the initial close of Sosman & Landis. He ran Pausback Studio for twenty years, retiring only six years before his passing in 1953. As with many competitors, Pausback Studio primarily focused on public school and college projects, outfitting school stages with rigging and draperies. This branch of the industry had greatly increased in the 1920s and continued to thrive until the 1960s. Tiffin Scenic Studios and Art Drapery Studios became major competitors of Pausback Studios by the 1950s (The Times, 11 Feb 1953, page 2). Eventually Pausback merged with Acme and Carsen in 1957 to form the Acme Carsen Pausback Studio (see past installment #566). The company placed advertisements in the 1959 “Educational Theatre Journal” (Vol. 11, No. 1, i-xxxviii).

Prior to working at Sosman & Landis in Chicago, Pausback began his scenic artist career in St. Louis, Missouri.  In 1901, his occupation was listed in city directories as that of “artis.” Pausback’s residence was at 3113 Magnolia Ave. In 1904, Pausback married to Otillia Groebl (1883-1963) and the couple raised five children: Elvira Mary (m. Harold J.  Howard), Mary C. (m. Mr. Welsh) and Mrs. Therese Curtis. Raymond J. Pausback (m. Yvonne Singer), and Very Rev. Gabriel N. Pausback (b. 1905) of the Carmelite order. Records show that the two eldest children of five were born in St. Louis during 1905 and 1906, with the remaining children being born in Chicago.  In the early years, Pausback was crisscrossing the country like many artists, completing a variety of painting projects that included seventy-five scenes for the Grand Theatre in Owensboro, Kentucky (Messenger-Inquirer, 22 June 1905, page 8). Of this installation, twenty-five of the scenes were backdrops, with the greater part remaining framed pieces. In Kentucky, he waorked alongside stage carpenters J. A. McDanuel and his son.

In 1907, Pausback relocated to Chicago, immediately working with Moses at the Sosman & Landis in the 20^th Street Studio. By 1908, Pausback became the shop manager of the space, replacing Ansel Cook. By 1916, Pausback was frequently sent to in New York, installing shows with fellow Sosman & Landis employee, Harry Nailer, the well-known stage carpenter. He worked for New York Studios, the eastern affiliate of Sosman & Landis.

During the 1920s, Pausback founded Pausback Scenery Co. Living at 6606 Woodlawn Ave., in Chicago Illinois. His scenery company was located at 3727 Cottage Grove Ave., Chicago (Chicago Tribune 2 Dec. 1928, page 2). After founding the firm, Pausback also wrote a book on Stage Craft; a book that I am still tracking down (Dec. 17, 1928). By 1929, the Pausback Scenery Co was credited with a new innovation for gigantic Christmas trees – spangles in various shapes and sizes, some that measured 10 inches in diameter (Chicago Tribune 9 Dec. 1929, page 3).

Over the years, the Pauback studio pops up in several newspaper articles, but nothing really consistent. Briefly morphing from Pausback Studio to the Pausback Scenery Co.. the firm is briefly mentioned as providing properties for “Wings of a Century” at 1934 Century of Progress World fair in Chicago.

Toward the end of his career, Pausback partnered with another Sosman & Landis scenic artist, Art W. Oberbeck (Blue Island Sun Standard Archives, 15 June 1944, Page 6). Oberbeck and Pausback had started at Sosman & Landis around the same time; Oberbeck starting as a paint boy at the in 1904 and Pausback as a journeyman artist three years later.

In 1939 Pausback Studios advertised, “Scenery and Lighting Equipment Built and Rented” with offices located at   3727 Cottage Grove Avenue, Chicago and the phone nunbers being Drexel 7060 and 7061 (Labor Union Directory). The key to any scenic studio’s success at this time was diversification, manufacturing and installing both stage machinery and lighting systems.

Pausback was also an amateur magician. As a member of the International Brotherhood of Magicians and the American Society of Magicians, his stage name was “Nicodemus, the Magician” (Chicago Tribune  14 May 1953, page 36). This persona was even remembered “Do You Remember When,” a section published in an “Independent Magazine for Magicians” known as “The Sphinx” in 1949. “The magazine queried, “Do you remember when Nick Pausback, scenic artist de luxe, of Chicago was known as “Nicodemus, the Magician?” (Page 12).

Pausback passed away on March 13, 1953, buried in St. Mary Catholic Cemetery in Evergreen Park. His last residence was at 1000 S. Rhodes Ave., Chicago, Illinois.

To be continued…

Sosman and Landis built their main studio at 236 and 237 S. Clinton Street. The street numbers later changed to 417 and 419 S. Clinton Street, yet the studio did not change locations.  The change was due to the renumbering of Chicago streets, also known as the Brennan System.

“The Encyclopedia of Chicago” explains this street name change at the turn of the twentieth century. The publication specifically describes the history prior to the 1901 Brennan System:

“The street names of Chicago offer a rich record of the city’s spatial and social development. In 1830, southern Illinois mapmaker James Thompson created Chicago’s first official map. Commissioned by the federal government to bring order to the city, Thompson platted the small downtown area bounded by Kinzie, Jefferson, Washington, and Dearborn streets. Departing from the tradition of naming streets for their destination, Thompson initiated the enduring practice of naming streets after figures of national and local significance.

“In the decades that followed, explosive urban growth, annexation, and the popular political favor of honorary street naming resulted in multiple streets of the same name and streets known by several different names. In 1901, building superintendent Edward P. Brennan confronted the confused state of affairs. He suggested that Chicago be ordered as a large grid with a uniform street numbering system, and proposed State and Madison Streets as the city’s primary north-south and east-west axes. In 1908, the “Brennan” system was officially adopted by the city council and became the basis of modern Chicago’s street naming system.

“Over the next decades, Brennan’s system incorporated not only the principle of having street address numbers register distance and direction, but also the ideas that all portions of the same street should go by a uniform name and that north-south streets should be named alphabetically as one moved west from the Chicago/Indiana border. Led by Brennan and Howard C. Brodman, superintendent of the city’s Department of Maps and Plats, the city council and business community continued through the 1930s to replace duplicated street names in order to simplify navigation and economize postal service and merchandise delivery. Of the more than a thousand streets within Chicago’s city limits today, the greatest number—more than 170—bear the names of real-estate developers. English towns and Chicago’s former mayors and aldermen have provided the next most popular sources of names.” The street numbering system revision was completed in 1909.

A business address really does matter when it becomes part of a firm’s identity.  Sosman & Landis were at their main studio for over three decades, becoming a landmark on Clinton Street.  When the company dissolved, three things happened: the liquidation of company assets, a new lease in the old studio space and the purchase of the “Sosman & Landis” name. For a while, the new address became home to Chicago Studios.  This caused a problem for Thomas G. Moses and Fred Megan, especially after they purchased the Sosman & Landis name.  You see, Chicago Studios began marketing itself as the new owners of Sosman & Landis. They used the space, but had not retained the Sosman & Landis staff or designs.

The problem became a significant one, forcing Moses to send out letters to many previous clients. In 2010 I discovered a letter during the evaluation of the Scottish Rite scenery collection in Salina, Kansas.

A Nov. 13, 1923, letter from Sosman & Landis to the Salina Scottish Rite stated:

Dear Sir,

It has recently been brought to our attention that a certain studio is advertising out old customers that they have brought the Sosman & Landis Company and are now operating same, combining it with their original company. We wish to assure you that this is not a fact and that our original organization in intact, but our studio has been moved to new and better quarters. Mr. Thomas G. Moses, our Art Director would like the opportunity of meeting with your scene committee to submit our designs and specifications covering your requirement. You will perhaps recall that we were favored with your original scenery order, working through the M. C. Lilley Co. and therefore, it is not necessary for us to give you any reference as to our ability and quality of workmanship.

Sosman & Landis relocated their offices to 6751 Sheridan Road in 1923. Moses’ role with the firm had shifted from being the company president to its artistic director.  In 1923, Moses and Fred Megan bought the name “Sosman & Landis,” continuing to produce scenery as before, just in a new location; they retained the studio designs.  At first, they rented space at other shops, such as the Fabric Studio.

To be continued…

Note included:

In 1911, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “We started Brewer’s work at the 20^th Street studio, with an extra number of men.  Pausback had his hands full; Scott acted bad.  Got Geo. Schultz on the staff at 20^th Street. I was obliged to remain at the Clinton Street studio, only going to 20^th Street every other day.”

Before building their main studio on Clinton Street, the Sosman & Landis studio was located at 277 and 279 S. Clark Street in Chicago. As business increased, it became necessary to build a larger studio to simultaneously accommodate multiple projects. However, even the new Clinton space could not accommodate all of the contracted projects. Therefore, some projects were manufactured on site, Carpenters were sent ahead of scenic artists, building paint frames in various opera houses, theaters and music halls. 

Space and location was the key to any studio’s overall success; scenic artists needed access to multiple frames throughout a city when a very large project hit. They referred to these additional spaces as “annex studios,” temporary locations that complimented the main studio and business offices. Sosman and Landis opened a second studio space on the West Side of Chicago, renting the “old Waverly theatre” and referring to the second space as “the Annex” during August 1892.  According to Thomas G. Moses, the studio measured 93 feet wide by 210 feet long and 40 feet high.  The first annex studio had four paint frames with plenty of floor space for all kinds of work.  This space was specifically secured for Moses and his crew to accept additional work for the Columbian Exposition. Moses’ arrangement with Sosman & Landis was to receive all of their sub-contracted work. Moses records that his annex studio crew included A. J. Rupert, Frank Peyrand and Harry Vincent besides a number of assistants and paint boys.  He wrote, “It was awfully hard to keep the building warm.  It was so big we had to use stoves.” Even with his own studio, however, Moses was still constantly sent on the road to complete on site work for the company. During these extended absences, Ed Loitz took charge of the Annex studio.

The annex space remained open throughout 1894. During the summer of 1894, Thomas G. Moses painted a number of small shows there.  The work kept the annex studio open, despite the decline in projects after the close of the Columbian Exposition. Moses also wrote that the annex staff was always needed to “get the work out on time.”

In 1896, Sosman & Landis opened another annex studio. Moses wrote, “I had so much special work to do and it was hard to handle in the Studio.  We rented the frames at the Alhambra Theatre and I worked there during the Fall and Winter.” This annex studio, however, was located in quite a rough neighborhood. Moses recorded the Alhambra Theatre was located on State Street and Archer Avenue. Moses wrote, “It was a long ride to Oak Park and I disliked the theatre.  It was a very rough neighborhood – a hangout for all the big crooks.” In 1897, Moses was still supervising the annex at the Alhambra Theatre.

In 1907 Sosman & Landis established another Annex studio. Of it, Moses wrote, “We opened our annex studio at 19 W. 20^th Street in July, and Ansel Cook went there as a manager. He did some very good work but was a long time doing it, which, of course, didn’t pay us.” Moses divided his time between Sosman & Landis’ main Clinton Street studio and the annex studio that year, in addition to being on the road for weeks at a time. After one extended absence from the annex studio, he wrote, “Took charge of the 20^th Street Studio on my return weeks.  Cook did $750.00 of work in three weeks. My first three amounted to $3,500.00, some difference. I hustled while he talked art and what the firm ought to do to get business.” Moses was obliged to stay at the 20^th Street annex in 1908, commenting it was “an awful place to heat.” Nicholas J. Pausback eventually replaced Cook as second in command.

In 1909, Moses primarily worked at the main studio before finding himself back at the annex again. Of the move, Moses wrote, “Sosman seemed to think I was needed there more than at 20^th Street.  Pausback took charge of the 20^th Street studio.”

My research suggests that Sosman & Landis painted approximately 1200 drops during 1909, this being very conservative estimate. Fortunately, they had a staff of forty-eight on payroll in the main studio and twelve in the annex to help with the ever-increasing demand for painted scenery, stage machinery, draperies, and other theatrical equipment.

To be continued…

In 1911, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “I have not been as active on my picture work this year as I was last – too much hard work.  No vacation this year, and I miss that very much, as a month means a good deal to both Mama and I.” Moses went on an annual sketching trip every year, often accompanied by his wife and their children.  Unfortunately, 1911 was a busy time at Sosman & Landis, with Masonic projects pouring in, as well a variety of other projects beyond their standard opera house and theatre work.

Since the beginning of Sosman & Landis, Moses was on the road for months at a time. Even during the first decade of the twentieth century, much scenery was still painted on site. The practice continued as studio space was limited and any theater could be transformed into a temporary paint studio. Staying in one place for any significant length of time was an anomaly for Moses, even after 1904 when he became the vice-president and a Sosman & Landis stockholder.

When Moses was not finishing projects on site, meeting with clients, supervising installations, or securing new contracts for upcoming work; travel was a necessity. If railways gave out “frequent flyer” miles at the time, Moses would have been set at the platinum level for life. He was constantly crisscrossing the country from one coast to the other, spending many nights sleeping on a train.  In many ways it must have been quite freeing, escaping the monotony of the main studio as one project systematically replaced another, yet it resulted in limited time spent with his family too.  His salary, like many other scenic artists of the time, was substantial enough that he was able to afford a comfortable home, nice things, and a month-long vacation every year. Regardless of the quality of his home life, he was seldom there to enjoy it. He entered the painting profession when profits abounded in the painting industry. A talented scenic artist could quickly rise to the top of his profession, surpassing the annual salaries in most other trades at the time. Scenic artists were highly respected and appropriately compensated for their skills.

Although Moses did not enjoy a vacation during 1911, there were plenty other reasons to rejoice that year.

On February 8, 1911, Moses wrote, “Mamie surprised us both by informing us that she and Wm. Hanover were married in Wheaton, Illinois, on February 8^th, 1911.  We are becoming accustomed to these surprises.” “Mamie,” born Mary Titcomb Moses in 1881, was the second eldest of the couple’s children, with William “Pitt” being the eldest (b. 1879). In 1911, Pitt was still residing in New Jersey, successfully working with his Uncle Frank.

The next month, Lillian Ella Moses Salzmann (b. 1886), had a baby. Of the event, Moses wrote, “Lillian presented her husband with a bouncing son, Thomas George, in New York, March 9^th.  Mama went to New York to be with Lillian for a week or so.”  The couple would go on to have four more children (Marjorie, William, Gertrude and Betty).

Of their youngest child, Rupert Thomas Moses returned from California on March 2, 1911.  The previous year he left Chicago to seek employment there. Of this departure, Moses wrote, “Rupert went to California to work for Shearer, but he was not put on.  He went to work for the irrigating company.  They treated him better.” At the time, Rupert was 22 years old. He would later enter the theatrical trade with his father, traveling across country and completing various Sosman & Landis projects. Rupert was also an artists and the two would even spend time sketching at the Palette & Chisel club’s Fox Lake camp.

By the fall of 1911 the Moses family began to expand again. In November Moses wrote, “Miss Ula McNeill of Ames, Iowa, Rupert’s best girl, paid us a short visit…She appeared to be a very amiable young woman and we enjoyed meeting her.” The two would be married by 1914 and raised three girls (Evelyn, Doris and Marilyn). As an undergraduate, I met Doris at her farm while accompanying Lance Brockman on a research trip during the early 1990s. After our visit to her farm, we corresponded for a time.  Doris described her talented grandfather and her memories of Moses. In 2016, I began corresponding with both of Marilyn’s sons, getting a new sense of Moses’ personality.

Rupert’s family would stay close to Tom and Ella, even living in their Oak Park home, when they went away to Oakland, California. Upon their return, Rupert and his family stayed with other family members in Ames, Iowa.  After the stock market crash, however, Rupert’s family permanently resided in the Oak Park home with Tom and Ella. Of this transition, Marilyn wrote, “We weren’t used to having anyone else in the house and neither were my grandparents.” In a full house, the granddaughters would recall being warned against bothering their grandpa when he was painting. Granddaughter Marilyn recalled, “Grandfather had a studio on the third floor of his house. He spent most of his time up there painting.” She continued, “Grandmother tried to ‘protect’ Grandfather from his grandchildren or maybe it was his working time, which was important. I didn’t realize the reasons behind the rules. I would go up to the studio to watch. It was quite exciting to see the sets develop. Grandfather taught me how to make furniture out of cardboard and put me to work. I made tables, chairs and lounges.”

Marilyn described evening in the Moses home later in lofe, “In home life, dinner was always a party with a lot of conversation about all things going on in everyone’s lives. Conversations would trigger reminiscences and Grandfather would be off on one of his tales of the past.” Moses’ stories even helped the grandchildren out with their homework too. After dinner, the three granddaughters were expected to complete any homework assigned that day. Of her grandfather’s nightly dinner conversation, Marilyn wrote, “He was a good source for material for English compositions. We would take the gist of his stories and develop them in an embellished creation. His life was exciting between his travels and the people he met and associates in connection with his work. Being a stage set designer he met actors and actresses and opera singers. Some we met not through his work but through social contacts and fraternal organizations.”

Each evening ended with Marilyn fetching an apple from the basement cellar for her grandfather to munch on during a game of cards. After he finished his apple, Moses would go to his room and write in his journal.

To be continued…

On July 4, 1911, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “Mama and I went to Kilbourn, Wisconsin, to get away from the noise and heat. I think we ran right into it.  I have this written up elsewhere.” Moses is referring to his travelogues and their visit to the area now known as the Wisconsin Dells. Many artists and their families escaped the heat of Chicago during the summer, venturing beyond city limits to nearby lake resorts and summer homes.  Without any effective way to cool the air in homes or businesses during the early twentieth century, cooler breezes near a lake or river offered much needed relief to those who could afford venturing north. This is one of the reasons that Chicago’s Palette & Chisel Club members established their summer camp near Fox Lake Camp 1906. 

Kilbourn, Wisconsin, was due north of Baraboo, home to the Ringling Brothers Circus at the time. Moses repeatedly visited Al Ringling in Baraboo from 1904 until 1915 when he was designing elaborate settings for the Ringlings’ grand circus spectacles.  The city of Kilbourn was located in the area, along the Wisconsin River. First identified in public records during 1856, the city named after Byron Kilbourn. Kilbourn was a surveyor, railroad executive, and politician who was also significant in the founding of Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

The town of Kilbourn was an ideal location, the midway point on the railway between Chicago and Minneapolis. It was also a well-known resort area known for the picturesque landscape. In 1875, landscape photographer H. H. Bennett established a studio in the Kilbourn, where he captured the nearby sandstone formations that helped publicize the resort town. He distributed his photographs and stereoscopic cards across the United States, promoting the area as a destination location for sightseers. He also offered souvenir pictures of visitors, and was an ever-increasing asset to the area’s tourist trade. The old H. H. Bennett Studio is now a historic site operated by the Wisconsin Historical Society.  

The name of Kilbourn City was officially changed to Wisconsin Dells in 1931. Home to boat tours and a variety of popular amusements, the area continues to attract a mass influx of visitors every year. It is also the home to Tommy Bartlett’s Water Ski & Jumping Boat Thrill Show (est. 1952), later known as the Tommy Bartlett Show. Tourism remains a major contributor to the economy, now advertised as the “Waterpark Capital of the World.” 

To be continued…

I return to the life and times of Thomas G. Moses tomorrow, after almost a month on the road.  Travel in August brought me from Whitehorse in the Yukon to a small rural town near Fargo, North Dakota. Unbelievably, cellular service was far better in the Yukon than northern Minnesota – go figure. My final trip was to the Western Minnesota Steam Threshers Reunion (WMSTR), a yearly exposition held every Labor Day weekend near Rollag in Northwestern Minnesota.  For 47 years, our family has attended the show.  My annual trip to Rollag continues to fuel my love and appreciation of history. There is nothing like seeing a tractor fueled by steam slowly inch by, puffing all the way.

My mother was the first person to make history come alive for me.  She has always excelled as a storyteller, a skill that greatly helped her communicate information to not only me, but also to her students over the years. The next greatest factor that contributed to my fascination with history was the Western Minnesota Steam Threshers Reunion, a unique type of living history museum that features a steam locomotive, a pioneer exhibit, a horse-power farm, two sawmills, and a multitude of engines powered by steam, kerosene and gasoline. People come from across the country to see the power of steam and how it tamed the prairie. The show has become the largest of its kind in North America.

My father was the first of our family to venture to this four-day event with his good friend and co-worker Ray Granstrom during the 1960s. He helped install the Corliss engine, a massive machine with a 17-foot flywheel. 

By 1972, my mother and I attended the show for the first time and instantly became hooked. I have only missed four shows since 1972.  Two of those times were when my children were mere infants, and I refused to let their little lungs get a good dose of airborne particulates wafting from various steam engines.

In the beginning, camping was primitive, with outhouses and limited access to running water. As a small child, this was an added bonus, no shower for almost a week! Our friends and family always knew that each Labor Day weekend we were working on the show grounds in some capacity. Over the years, our work changed as our roles shifted within the organization. My father started out in the Blacksmith shop, making little rings out of nails. He later ran the sound system in the Threshermen’s Memorial Building (TMB) before becoming the official Hobo on the WMSTR railroad.

My mother started out doing a variety of thankless jobs that no one wanted to do, including cleaning toilets. At the time, playing music on the grounds wasn’t considered “work” and each member had to sign up for a specific job. Progress was slow, but eventually the contributions of musicians were recognized, sadly a little too late for many. My mother went from borrowing Arne Gunderson’s accordion in 1972 to play in the Quonset building, to running the entire music program on the grounds. The greatest lesson that I learned from her over the years was how to make everyone feel respected and appreciated, regardless of their skillset.  She still encourages young musicians, cajoles older ones, and makes sure that everyone has a chance to be in the spotlight.

My mother now plays accordion in the Mercantile Building for eight-hours every day of the show. My father is still a drummer, but now only accompanies her on nursing home day. Over the years, my parents have played with a variety of musicians on the show grounds, at parades, across the country and at home in the Twin Cities.  I grew up listening to musical selections that spanned genres and decades.  Whether is was polkas, waltzes, old time, country, or pop, I intimately knew all of the melodies and lyrics for each. There is something to be said about being an only child in a room full of musicians. I spent countless hours sketching in the corner with laughter and music in the background.

I watched friendships develop between musicians whose political and religious views were diametrically opposed. Fights occasionally erupted over a variety of social issues, but they would eventually subside, each friendship continuing on as before. They all shared the common language of music and this single commonality overrode a multitude of differences. I miss hearing the peacemaking and an overall desire to respect each other despite their differing views. Music bridges the gaps between individuals.

My own work on the grounds shifted over the decades too.  By the age of seven, I was scooping ice cream and selling balloons. As a teenager, I worked alongside Maxine and Edra in the Ladies Boutique, selling handmade trinkets and chatting with visitors. These service jobs taught me how to handle both people and money, an invaluable asset that would greatly assist me later in my career. Other jobs included setting up and running the soundboard in the TMB under the direction of my father, as well emceeing the style show.

It was the latter that shaped my public speaking skills and ability to think quickly on my feet in front of a crowd.  Beginning as a model at the age of four, I was first handed the microphone as a pre-teen to describe my historic outfits. By my late teens, I was co-emceeing of the style show and describing a variety of outfits that randomly appeared on stage. By the age of twenty, I was sole emcee, upping my game and providing historical context for the shifts in fashion.  Instead of having models appear in random outfits, I started to have groups come out, each representing the various fashion trends for every decade, starting in the 1870s.  We spruced up the stage and I donated some backdrops. For years, my mother and Donna Peterson also rushed over to provide background music, appropriate songs for each decade. 

As the style show themes increased in complexity, so did my preparation. Over the years themes included, a Century of Progress, Women’s Rights, Courtship Through the Ages, World Fairs, Military Attire, and much more.  My husband became integral to the style show, prompting other men to join in, always a very rare resource. Both of our children also joined in. Our eldest, Isa, and Andrew performing duets between decades. However, after twenty years of preparation, study, selecting historic outfits for random individuals, pairing groups of models, and emceeing, I passed the baton to another; I was burned out. 

The style show strengthened my ability to discuss a topic and improvise for almost two straight hours without any intermission.  The whistle of the steam engines and noise from the passing machines would compete with every show, training me to pause and make sure the audience could clearly understand me.  I learned not to rush and acknowledge those working on the show, whether they were a dresser, model, musician, or sound technician.   

I never used notes for the show, unless I was reading a specific quote that pertained to the times. Occasionally an outfit was assembled without my knowledge, a surprise that mismatched several eras at once.  This opportunity trained me to think quickly on my feet and not get flustered. In the end, I learned about American history and how to communicate interesting information to others, all the while entertaining them.

Times have changed on the grounds; the old time fiddle jamboree has disappeared, replaced with more contemporary country music. There are very few of the older musicians left.  The farmers who would dutifully show up with their fiddle to jam are a rare sight. Yet, I still hear the echo of every musician that played with my parents. Although many are no longer known or remembered, they are still part every show for me.

To be continued…