The Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, has three distinct
scenery collections. Scenic artists who delivered scenery to the venue include,
Henry E. Burcky (1879), T. Frank Cox (1888), the Kansas City Scenic Co. (1902)
and Sosman & Landis Scene Painting Studio of Chicago (1902). In 1901, the
Elks purchased the Tabor Opera House that was built in 1879, remodeling the
stage house and adding a fly loft. The original wing-and-shutter scenery was
carefully tucked away in the attic, and new scenery purchased from Fred R.
Megan, representing the Kansas City Scenic Co. By the way, Megan and Thomas G.
Moses would later partner to establish Moses & Megan while they waited to
purchase the Sosman & Landis name after the company closed in 1923. In
regard to the Tabor Opera House, Kansas City Scenic Co. subcontracted some of
their 1902 project to Sosman & Landis Studio.
Two months ago, I catalogued all of the scenery stored on
the Tabor Opera House stage and have just finished creating conditions reports,
replacement appraisals and a collections care management document for 105
pieces. I am heading back this fall to do the same for the scenery in the
attic.
While I was in the midst of creating the documents for the
scenery on stage, Kenneth Kurtz contacted me about a tray in his slide
collection. Years back he visited the Tabor Opera house with his wife and
photographed some of the scenery, especially a few shutters stored in the
attic. I also photographed some of the
scenery in the attic on my 49th birthday in 2018, and knew what treasures were
tucked away up there. In a very generous
move, Kurtz send his slides to me this month and I was able to photograph a few
projections that I have included with this post. I still have to digitize the
photos, but they have been incredibly helpful for me.
The Tabor Opera House scenery collection is remarkable because it shows the shift of scenic art over time, as well as major players in the North American theatrical manufacturing scene. It is a treasure trove of scenic art examples. The collection also depicts a shift in stage hardware from 1879 to 1888 (the flat sheaves used on wings to slide onstage). It also depicts the shift in wing, shutter and roll drop scenery to and fly scenery and realistic interior settings. This is a wonderful theater that should be preserved for future generations. To learn more about visit https://www.taboroperahouse.net/
Please consider donating to the preservation of this remarkable theatre collection. Here is the link to the Tabor Opera House Preservation Foundation: https://www.taboroperahouse.net/donate
In 1918, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “Mama and I went to see the
big spectacle of “The Wanderer” at the Auditorium. It was awfully good. The scenery was fine.”
“The Wanderer” was a production written by Maurice V.
Samuels and staged by David Belasco. The plot was based on the well-known
parable of the prodigal son. “The Boston Globe” announced that the show was
“endorsed by more than 1500 clergymen of New York and by 800 clergymen of
Philadelphia” (18 Nov, 1917, page 48). According to newspapers across the
country, it was the “greatest cast ever organized in the history of the
American stage” with Nance O’Neil, James O’Neil, Charles Dalton, Frederick
Lewis, Lionel Braham, Sydney Herbert, Ernest Cove, Henry Duggan, Jean Stuart,
Florence Auer, Jean Robertson, Olga Newton, Edward Martyn, Sydney Mather,
George Byron, C. H. Faulkner, and “more than 200 others.”
The first and third act of the show depicted the home of the
prodigal son in the hills of Hebron with a flock of sheep. The second act took
place in the elaborate palace of Nadina in Jerusalem. Of the palatial scene,
the “Spokesman-Review” reported, “Gorgeous and grandeur almost beyond description
are said to be found in this scene. Voluptuousness is probably the word that
most nearly describes the atmosphere and color of the big act. A riot of color
and motion is said to be everywhere as portraying the haunts of gilded vice
where, as Scripture relates, the prodigal son ‘wasted his substance in riotous
living.’ While the biblical story is closely followed, the playwright has
embroidered much romantic effect on the fabric of the parable and tells the
story in dignified and picturesque phrases” (Spokane, Washington, 4 Aug., 1918,
page 20)
“The Los Angeles
Express” described, “Jerusalem’s house of sin, which is the second act of The
Wanderer, also shows a touch of this master. There is sumptuous and luxury with
deft touches of the garish in lights and decorations, all combining to convey
the impression of a sin-filled atmosphere. The scene is said to be a marvelous
palace of imaginative exemplification of St. Luke’s brief description that the
Prodigal Son had ‘wasted his substance with riotous living’” (May 9, 1918, page
8).
Advertisements announced, “The magnificence of the orient in
the time of King Solomon is revealed in all its grandeur in this wonderful
play” (Spokane, Washington, 4 Aug., 1918, page 20). The show was advertised as the
“Biggest Dramatic Spectacle on Earth!” Considering that the Ringling Brothers
transported 1,250 performers, 300 ballet dancers and 90 musicians for their
“King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba” production, this was a little overstated
(see past post #486 https://drypigment.net2018/08/25/tales-from-a-scenic-artist-and-scholar-part-486-ringling-brothers-king-solomon-and-the-queen-of-sheba/).
“The Wanderer” traveled with a company of 200, 90 ballet
dancers, and 120 real sheep. I cannot
imagine working a touring production with 120 sheep. And what were the sheep
doing? The flock of 120 real sheep entered down the scenic runway, 35 feet high,
representing the hills of Hebron. “The Los Angeles Express” described the scene
with the sheep, reporting, “It is said that the curtain is raised for but a few
minutes when the audience is fairly electrified, for there in the poetic quietude
of the pastoral scene which represents the home of the Prodigal So amidst the
hills of Hebron, is to be seen a large flock of sheep wending their way down
the low hillside to the fold at eventide, and the friendly barking of the
shepherd dogs is heard as well as the soft grinding of the hand-turned
millstones which provide flour of the festal bread” (May 9, 1918, page 8).
Anselm Goetzel wrote the musical score and Alexis Kosloff
arranged and directed the incidental dances. “Stern of Paris” was credited with
the scene painting and costuming. This was Ernst Stern (1876-1954), the
Romanian-German scenic artist, who worked for Max Reinhardt at the Deutsches
Theater.
In 1918,
Thomas G. Moses wrote, “Made a Saturday afternoon visit with Jack Garner
regarding his act, which was very good.”
Jack E. Gardner came from a theatrical family and initially performed
in a musical comedy skit called “The Three Gardners.” The vaudeville act
starred Jack, Andy and Ada Gardner in 1900. By 1905, Jack had quit the trio. He
became known as “Happy Jack,” and advertised as a musical comedian in a solo
act (The Morning Call, Paterson, New Jersey, 4 Oct. 1907, page 3). The “Los
Angeles Times” reported “‘Happy Jack’ Garner recalls a pleasant turn,
consisting of good songs and tuneful melodies drawn from a disreputable old
tuba (Feb 17, 1907, page 75). In 1909, Gardner was still doing his musical
routine, but now was performing in black face (The Salt Lake Herald-Republican,
16 Jan. 1909, page 7). By 1910, Happy Jack was touring the west as a minstrel
performer (Oregon Daily Journal, 4 Dec. 1910, page 37). About this time, Gardner
and his wife Edna (Beard) Gardner joined the Actors’ Colony in Muskegon,
Michigan. There, he was performed in the colony’s annual charity shows. For
more of his involvement in this group, see http://www.actorscolony.com/Gardners.htm
In 1912, Gardner starred in “A Close Call” with his own
company on the Sullivan and Considine circuit. That summer, “Happy Jack” was
featured alongside his good friends in Butte, Montana – Jack Jeffries, Jim
Jeffries (former heavyweight champion of the world), and Barney Oldfield
(racing car driver). The “Butte Miner” reported “Gardner was the first handler
of Jeffries when he forsook the ring for the stage and he is now one of the
closest of big Jims friends and intimates – and Jeff hasn’t many” (20 June
1912, page 3). Gardner was also a former room-mate of James J. Jeffries
(Calgary Herald, 14 June 1912, page 9). Oldfield was making an appearance in
Butte at this time with his famous racing car for July celebrations.
“Happy Jack” made quite a name for himself as he continued
to perform across the country. Notable productions included “Madame Sherry” and
“The Chocolate Soldier.” However, it was Gardner’s later interaction with film
on the vaudeville stage that really caught my attention He had a brand new idea
for vaudeville that would tour the Orpheum Circuit; a first that I have
encountered to date.
On Jan. 31, 1915, “Oakland Tribune” reported, “Jack E.
Garner has turned his back upon the lyric stage and has become a dramatic actor.
His new departure is entitled “Curse You, Jack Dalton” and is an exaggerated
melodrama of the old school acted upon the moving picture screen” (page 5). Of the vaudeville act, the “Atlanta
Constitution” reported, “The brand-new idea of Gardner’s embraces the moving
pictures, with which he is assisted in the production of “Curse You, Jack
Dalton.” The main action is enacted upon the screen, but the versatile Garner
fits himself into each situation with ludicrous effect” (20 June 1915, page 1).
The “Lincoln Star” added, “The ‘stunt’ is something entirely new and novel to
the vaudeville stage. Jack Gardner had a reel of pictures, with clever actors,
the hero, the villain, the heroine and her papa – a blood-curdling melodrama –
incomplete, however, without Gardner walking around the stage mingling with his
picture characters, talking with them, prompting them and even shooting with a
real revolver the mustached villain, who falls writing to the floor with a
bullet in his arm” (Lincoln, Nebraska, 19 March 1915, page 2). This was a movie
produced under the personal direction of Billy Arnold. The “Fort Wayne News”
reported, “Arnold’s ‘company’ consists of a movie film produced under his
personal direction and in which he in the flesh and blood makes himself a
portion of. The act isn’t one that will live a long time, but while it is new
the novelty is so marked that it makes a great hit” (Fort Wayne, Indiana, 29
Jan. 1915, page 4).
The September 1916 issue of “Variety” described another short
film by Gardner that I found pretty interesting:
“Jack E. Gardner. Songs
and Talk. 17 Min. One. Fifth Ave. Jack Gardner is at least to be congratulated
on his streak of progressiveness. He, unlike many other “single” men,
seems continually to strive for the original, and generally makes proper connections.
His present turn is a neatly constructed affair, consisting of an introductory
number, after which he runs through a routine of songs of different style, each
one prefaced with an explanation in rhyme, Gardner explaining he would never
think of imitating others, then proceeds with an illustration of what he means.
The finale is the comedy trump. A speech, in which he invites applicants to the
stage, introduces the well-known Benjamin Schaeffer, who
“masquerades” as an amateur and who craves the attention of the house
during a recital of “Gunga Din.” Gardner promises Ben protection, but
at the finale stages a comedy-choking scene, with Ben retreating to the
auditorium delivering a routine of satirical remarks. It’s a good finish and Benjamin
was surprisingly good. So was Gardner. With this act and his name Mr. Gardner
should do nicely, although some of the number could be cut down so that the act
would not exceed 12 or 14 minutes in running.”
By 1917, “Happy Jack Garner” and his company toured the
Orpheum Circuit in a comedy entitled “In the War Zone.” Advertised as performed
by the “Jack Gardner Trio” or “Happy Jack Gardner & Co.” the show was
advertised as “a riot of laughs” (The York Dispatch, York, Pennsylvania, 17 May
1917, page 10). The “Ithaca Journal” reported, “There is fun galore in Happy
Jack Garner’s act which contains several talented persons” (The Ithaca Journal,
9 March 1917, page 6). The “Fitchburg Sentinel,” reported “Mr. Gardner will be
remembered as a blackface artist who appeared as the Cummings a few seasons ago
and scored on of the biggest laughing hits ever secured at that theater. This
time he is the head of an organization of four people who present his latest
creation ‘The War Zone.’ Mr. Gardner is supported by C. Ward Brown as General
Bolters of the Belgium forces. Miss Edna Beard as Kitty Wilson, a Red Cross
nurse, James F. Gallagher, as Denny O’Brian of the British forces. Mr. Gardner
will be an American negro playing in the French band. It is laughable burlesque
of the best type and should be welcomed by local theatregoers”
This was likely that the Gardner performance that Moses saw
in 1917 was “In the War Zone.” It was
still touring in 1920 (The Tribune, Scranton, Pennsylvania, 13 Oct. 1920, page
13).
By 1917, Garner was performing with another film “The Range
Boss,” the second of his Essanay Western Productions, appearing as a dare-devil
cowboy. The film was based on a novel by Charles Alden Seltzer. Here is a link
to the book, if you feel like reading a western novel today: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/25754/25754-h/25754-h.htm
The film version was directed by W. S. Van Dyke, the silent film also starred
Ruth King and Carl Stockdale. Of Garner’s performance, the “Charlotte News”
reported, “His defeats of horsemanship in this picture demonstrate that it
isn’t altogether necessary to live in the west in order to learn to ride a
horse” (Charlotte, North Carolina, 26 August 1917, page 13). The Essanay Film
Manufacturing Co. was established in 1906. The firm offices in Chicago were
located at 1333 West Argyle Street.
Gardner passed away on April 16, 1929, in Muskegon, Michigan.
In 1918, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “As the ground hog saw his
shadow on the 2nd of February, we had fully six weeks more of
winter. The government compelled us to
stop work on five Mondays, which pleased us, as we were so short of work we
could well afford to close for the day.” U.S. Fuel Administration ordered a
general shutdown of industry and businesses in all states east of the
Mississippi River for a period of five days, and ten succeeding Mondays.
WWI caused an energy crisis and there was a severe coal
shortage in the United States at the beginning of 1918. Keep in mind that coal
was a major fuel source that powered generators, furnaces, factories and more. “Heatless
Mondays” were aimed to relieve a serious coal shortage that threatened to delay
the shipment of war supplies to France. On February 2, 1918, the “Herald and
Review” reported, “heatless Mondays were decreed by the fuel administration
Jan. 17 as a measure to save coal and to relieve railroad transportation”
(Decatur, Illinois, page 1). There was vigorous opposition from commercial
interests, especially department stores. Theaters had their heatless day changed
to Tuesday.
On January 4, 1918, the “Ephraim Enterprise” reported, the
government began to tighten its control over industry and business for the
purpose of furthering war efforts and protecting the public” (Ephraim, Utah,
page 4).
In addition to closing businesses for five Mondays, schools
were closed and had abbreviated hours. Theatre matinees were cancelled, only
open for a few hours in the evening. Chicagoans wrote letters to the newspaper
pleading for fuel. Families with wood burning stoves sheltered their neighbors.
Railroad companies dipped into their supplies, ensuring the continuation of
city water in some areas. People froze to death during the bitter cold that hit
the Northeast and Midwest. Coal stoves were converted to use Kerosene.
On January 10, 1918, the “Chicago Tribune” reported, “More
industries may shut down unless relief comes. Many industries throughout the
Atlantic states closed their doors tonight under the paralyzing influence of
the growing coal famine. New York, New Jersey and Massachusetts, hardest hit of
the coalless districts, tomorrow will face the prospect of part time business
only for lack of heat and power. Fifty-one public schools in New York closed
their doors yesterday, and others will be compelled to follow their example
today because of empty coal bines. In Massachusetts business houses have been
called upon by Fuel Administrator J. J Storrow to limit their hours to 9
o’clock in the morning to 5 in the evening. Boston theaters have been ordered
to close at 10 o’clock, along with bowling alleys and all other places of
amusement. A similar order was sent to saloons” (page 3).
Additional articles from Washington D.C, noted, “The fuel
administration came in for sharp criticism in the house today. Representative
Madden of Illinois said the ‘coal operators are getting rich at the expense of
the overburdened taxpayers,’ and Representative Foster of the same state, who was
in charge of the bill, declared that if the government cannot control prices it
should take over the mines.”
On February 8, 1918, the Administration’s “Heatless Mondays”
was abandoned after five weeks.
In January of 1918, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “About the middle
of the month I had a frightful attack of lumbago which confined me to bed for
several days. As business was very bad,
I didn’t worry about having to remain at home so long.”
At the age of 62, Moses was suffering from extreme back pain. There was little that could be done at the time, other than trying some advertised remedy and wait it out. Lumbago can be caused from several factors, especially the overuse of the lower back and the sudden lifting of a heavy load. It can also be the result of excessive bending or other repetitive motions involving the lower back. Scenic artists were, and in many cases are, subject to constant harmful activities, needing to move heavy materials and completing repetitive movements.
There were many advertisements for Lumbago treatments in 1918, repeatedly published in Illinois newspapers. Testimonials were included, elaborating on the quick success of one topical ointment over another. One that really caught my attention was Turpo, a combination of turpentine, Menthol and camphor; a treatment suggested by painters.
We all look for a quick fix, something that gets us back on
our feet and back at work. Going back too
soon and not waiting for an injury to heal, however, will leave a mark. A hasty
return may take its toll down the road; it has with me.
1918 marks the beginning of continued
health problems for Moses. Later that fall, he wrote, “October 10th,
I was knocked down by a boy on a bicycle in Oak Park. It was dark and I did not see the wheel. It was thought by the doctor that I had
fractured my skull. It was a couple of
months before I recovered. Only a few
days after this I was forced to go to Cleveland to look after a big Masonic
order and I hope we will be able to get the contract.”
He did not have the opportunity
to properly heal.
There are those accidents later
in life that some never really recover from, life changing instances. Broken hips, sprained wrists, or fractured
skulls are just a few injuries that morph into later problems and daily aches. As one ages, it is harder to recover, it
takes longer to recover from simple injuries and routine procedures. What we
garner in experience we lose in other ways. It sucks, and I’m only 50 yrs. old.
Many artists are at the peak of
their career by 60, only to realize that their eyesight is failing, or
arthritis is affecting their hands and wrists.
This is no different from any other profession, and the statement “cruel
twist of fate” often comes to mind. For Moses, he had reached so many milestones
and was starting to fail. Keep in mind that the average life expectancy for men
at this time was 47 years old, so Moses, being 62 was remarkable, especially when
considering the “hard labor” aspect of his profession. I think of many scenic
artists who passed away at the end of the 19th century, well before they
reached their 35th birthday; the loss of talent in the theatre
industry is staggering. But as many at the time, he planned to work until the
day he died.
Sosman & Landis were still waiting for the final
payments related to government cantonment theater work in January 1918. In
1917, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “We closed a contract with H. Robert Law of New
York City for a lot of scenery for the Government Cantonment Theatres. First contract was $12,600.00, second
$3,600.00, and third $980.00 for installing one job. All to be completed November 7th –
some hustling. I went down to the studio
on five Sundays – something I haven’t done in fifteen years, and every night
until 8:30. Some of the boys slept in
the studio. Everyone hustled. We completed the work on the day set and
inside of a week it was all out of the studio.” This was a project to help the
war effort; a big one that brought in $17,180 in a short period of time. That
is the monetary equivalent of $364,438.00 today; no small project.
On January
3, Moses left Akron, Ohio, and headed to New York City, where he planned to “settle
up with the Government work with Law.”
Of the trip between Akron and New York, Moses wrote, “All day a cold
car. The first time I ever had to keep
my overcoat on in a sleeping car. Very
cold all night – no lights in the car, everything was frozen. Nine hours late. After leaving Philadelphia, we passed a bad
wreck. A passenger train had run into
another one standing on the side track.
The engine had plowed through the rear coach, which happened to be a
“dead head.” No one in it. The coach
settled down on the engine, covering it completely. Strange to say, no one was badly hurt. Transacted my business in one day.”
Unfortunately, the trip was not a success.
Sosman & Landis would have to send another representative to New
York later that year to collect the final payment. Of this second trip, Moses
wrote, “Lester Landis went to New York and finally got a settlement with Law
for our government work. It has cost us
a good bit to get it settled.”
This becomes a reoccurring theme in the final years of
Sosman & Landis, one that directly contributes to the eventual closure of
the firm.
At the end of 1917, Moses wrote,
“The greatest handicap to a profit sharing business is procrastination among
the managers. The eleventh hour idea of
getting scenery, we can either take it, or work night and day to get it out on
a close margin, or let it alone and allow someone else to creep in and steal
our business.” This represented one hardship the firm was repeatedly encountering.
Add on collecting funds on projects with a “close margin,” such as the Law
project. It took two trips to New York,
sending a Sosman & Landis representative to meet with Law in person to
collect the owed funds. Two trips, with train fare, lodging expense and meals,
plus the loss of time on other projects to collect money for completed work. I then look at the career of H. Robert Law,
who was in and out of courts for much of his career, also trying to collect
payment for his work (see past post #962). What a mess.
The theatre industry, like any
other business, is based on trust; the understanding that you will be paid for
your work as identified in contractual agreements. Unfortunately, that is not always the case.
Many of us have weighed the options when trying to collect money from clients for
completed work. For Sosman & Landis in 1918, additional project-related
expenses included two trips to New York and the loss of time. Much remains unknown about the work
contracted with H. Robert Law Studios in 1917.
It is possible that Sosman & Landis were simply subcontractors to
Law, and he was also waiting for payment from the US government.
The point of this tale in the big picture for the studio is money owed for completed work. The delayed payment in 1918 did not cause Sosman & Landis to crumble in the same way that might have been the case with a smaller firm. However, it did leave a mark, and those marks turned into a major scar. A series of projects with delays and non-payments eventually took a toll on the studio. Keep in mind that Sosman & Landis financed the stage portions of many Scottish Rite theater projects for almost two decades – 1/3 upon delivery, 1/3 a year later and the final 1/3 a year after that. That work made up approximately 25% of all projects for twenty years. I the end, Sosman & Landis had consistent difficulties in collecting the final payment from many Scottish Rite Valleys; this was well after the client had received the contracted goods in their entirety. The continued absence of money owed added up in the end. It became the perfect storm to cause a studio’s downfall. This occurred at the same time that demand for painted scenery began to diminish. And in the midst of these difficulties, studio founder Joseph S. Sosman passed away and a series of internal struggles began. Times were certainly changing for the major theatrical supplier.
In 1918, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “The new St. Edmond’s Parochial School within two blocks of our home needed scenery, so I got a little line from one of the Parishioners. Met Father Code and he was willing to spend $600.00, but wanted a figure curtain. I had a fine wood cut of “The Landing of Columbus” which he selected, and we were very successful in getting a very good curtain. He was well pleased with it.” Moses was referring to Rev. Msgr. John J. Code of St. Edmund, the first Catholic Parish in Oak Park, Illinois. St. Edmund’s Catholic School opened in the fall of 1917 and operated until 2016.
Code was appointed by Archbishop
James Quigley to organize the Oak Park church, serving from June 1907 until
October 1956. Father Code made plans to construct a school on the corner of Oak
Park Avenue and Pleasant Street in Oak Park and selected architect Henry J.
Schlaks. Schlaks designed the new school after the Palace of Justice in Rouen,
France.
The cornerstone for St. Edmund’s
school was laid on May 20, 1917, with dedication ceremonies on October 14 of
that year. The original structure had five classrooms, one of which housed the
nuns; the Dominican Sisters from Adrian, Michigan were the instructors. A
convent was later purchased for the nuns on the southwest corner of Euclid and
Pleasant Street. Over time the school expanded to 17 classrooms. An annex to
the school was completed in 1948, with four new classrooms, a music hall and
library. In 1959 and a modern two-story addition was added on the south. Unfortunately
enrollment declined for a variety of reasons by the twenty-first century.
On Jan. 13, 2016, the “Chicago Tribune”
reported, “The Chicago Archdiocese has announced that one more school will
close at the end of the academic year, just one year short of celebrating its
centennial. St. Edmund Catholic School in west suburban Oak Park could not
overcome years of declining enrollment and financial difficulties, the
archdiocese said. There are three other Catholic schools in Oak Park:
Ascension, Sr. Giles and St. Catherine Siena-St. Lucy.”
In 1918, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “2nd of
January, I had to go to Akron to see about the Masonic work, where I spent one
day… Made more models for Akron. It
seems we make fifty percent more sketches and models than we did twenty years
ago.”
Moses was referring to the Akron
Masonic Temple that opened during the fall of 1918. Located at 103 S. High St.,
the new 66,000 sq. ft. building was designed by Harpster & Bliss; built at
a cost $500,000. The seven-story building had an exterior of sandstone and
terra cotta and a grand interior. There were double marble staircases leading
to a third-floor balcony, lodge rooms on the fourth floor, and an auditorium on
the sixth and seventh floors, and a grand ballroom. The building was reported
to be “one of the finest temples in the state” (News Journal, Mansfield, Ohio, 10
Sept. 1918, page 5). Initially, dedication ceremonies were scheduled for Nov.
16, with the Grand Lodge of Ohio Masons dedicating the Blue Lodge room under
the direction of Grand Master Henry M. Hagelbarger and the Grand Commandery of
Ohio dedicating the Asylum Theatre the direction of Grand Commander William B.
Baldwin. The “News Journal” reported, “The ceremonies will not be elaborate as
planned when the temple was started because of war conditions. The preparations
are along conservative lines” (Mansfield, Ohio, 10 Sept. 1918, page 5). The
ceremonies became a little more elaborate and were delayed.
The dedication of the new
Masonic Temple in Akron, Ohio, actually occurred on Nov. 21, 1918. It coincided
with the seventy-sixth annual state conclave for the Grand Commandery, Knights
Templar of Ohio (Akron Beacon Journal, 20 Nov. 1918, page 1). Hundred of Masons
from all over the state attended the ceremony. A parade headed by the new Akron
Masonic band preceded the dedication ceremonies, with the Mayor making the
opening address and tendering the keys of the city to the Grand Commandery. Then
Oliver D. Everhard made the address of welcome on behalf of the Akron Commandery,
No. 25, of the Knights Templars. The dedication of the Blue Lodge and Asylum Auditorium
continued as originally planned.
The Asylum Theater, located on
the sixth and seventh floors, had a seating capacity of 450. I have yet to
uncover any information about the stage house or original scenery delivered by
Sosman & Landis in 1918.
The building went up for sale in 1999, with a price tag of
1.3 million. “The Akron Beacon Journal”
reported “The Akron Masonic Temple is used by five different lodges, and their
membership, about 2,500 at last count – is a post-World War II low…Once flush
with members and money, these groups built magnificent halls that in recent
years have become too costly to maintain. Some of these buildings get torn
down; others are saved” (1 July 1999, page 37).
The Akron Masons sold their building for less than asking
price to developer Jeffrey O’Neil. O’Neil was from California and the son of
former General Tire chairman Jerry O’Neil. He planned to use it as a special
event/entertainment center and office building. The Masons were to still occupy
the fourth floors, with the rest of the building being used for social and
artistic events. This seems to be the key in purchasing a Masonic Temple; you
can pay less than the asking price, if you continue to rent a portion of the
building to the organization; a win-win for the buyer. O’Neil’s involvement
with the endeavor did not last long. After starting an extensive restoration of
the building, he ran into unanticipated expenses and had a cash flow problem.
Fortunately for O’Neil, the city bailed him out less than two years after his
purchase in 2001 (Akron Beacon Journal. 8 Feb., 2001, page 40). In the end, the
city paid 2.6 million dollars to buy the building from O’Neil and leased it
back to him for 15 years, after which time the property was to revert to
O’Neil. The city’s purchase of the Masonic Temple amounted to a 30-year loan at
the federal discount rate – then at 5 percent – with a balloon payment after 15
years; that’s when the building would revert back to O’Neil. The city’s
ownership was intended to be temporary, with O’Neil leasing the building back
with the intent to buy it. However, by 2009, O’Neil severed his ties to the
property, citing the weak economy. There is much more to the story, but it echoes
strains of what has happened all over the country as the Fraternity slowly
collapses.
At the close of 1917, Thomas G.
Moses wrote, “We have had a good year as far as quantity is concerned, but I
hope we have made some money. The
payroll has kept up on account of the night work. The greatest handicap to a profit sharing
business is procrastination among the managers.
The eleventh hour idea of getting scenery, we can either take it, or
work night and day to get it out on a close margin, or let it alone and allow
someone else to creep in and steal our business. No vacation this year and very
little picture painting. Quit the camp
very early.” In 1918, Moses wrote, “Our business is not good – far from
it. Raw material has advanced so rapidly
that we are unable to keep up with it, and I am very much worried about the
outcome.” By summer Moses wrote, “I have not been out to Fox Lake this year,
the first I have missed in twelve years.
The business is in such an upset condition that I felt I should stick to
it.” But Moses couldn’t weather this
particular storm, and by the end of summer in 1918 wrote, “September 1st,
I resigned as President of the Sosman and Landis Company which severs my
connection with the firm after thirty-eight years of service. I joined the New York Studios and expect to
get a studio and an office to do business…The Sosman and Landis Company have
only done $85,000.00 worth of work for the past year. We should have done about $116,000.00 worth
to make money.” It was not until 1923 that Moses and Fred R. Megan would
purchase “the name and good will of Sosman and Landis Company.”
Like many American studios,
Sosman & Landis weathered many economic downturns since their establishment
in 1877. Although WWI provided a brief period of economic growth, an economic
recession continued after WWI. As military veterans returned to civilian life,
there was a surge in the labor pool and problems ensued as veterans were
absorbed back into peace-time production. This also affected the theatre
industry. During the war years, there was a certain percentage of work directly
related to wartime propaganda and patriotic-themes shows. However, between January
1920 and July 1921, America dipped into a depression. Ironically, this is the
same time that Prohibition began. There are a few economic factors to consider
as I examine the life and times of Moses before his purchase of the Sosman
& Landis name in 1923. I believe that Moses’ 1918 departure signals the end
of the firm. With both founders gone. Moses was the institutional memory and
intimately connected with most of the projects since 1880.
In April 1917, Congress declared war on German. By October
1917 Congress passed the War Revenue Act. This bill lowered the number of tax exemptions
while increasing tax rates. For example, an individual with a $40,000 annual
income was subject to a 16 percent tax rate, while an individual with an income
of $1.5 million was subject to a 67 percent. Tax revenue increased from $809
million in 1917 to a whopping $3.6 billion in 1918, a much-needed increase for adapt
for war-related expenses.
Keep in mind that between 1916 and 1918 the U. S. expenses
for troop training, weapons and munitions increased fifteen fold. This means that by the time World War I ended,
income tax generated from the War Revenue Act had paid for only one-third of all
war expenses. Spending outpaced funding for the war, and the government
implemented the sale of war bonds to help cover the gap. By the spring of 1918
the federal government had sold approximately 10 billion dollars worth of war
bonds and treasury certificates. There is a fascinating article about the
Federal Reserve’s role in WWI too: https://www.federalreservehistory.org/essays/feds_role_during_wwi
As American went to war, there are a few factors to consider
about its citizens. In 2017, “The Saturday Evening Post” published an article
on “The Average American Today and on the Eve of World War I,” noting, “What it
means to be an ‘Average American’ today is in many ways so different from what
it meant a century ago, when the United States entered World War I.” Here are a
few numbers provided in the article:
In 1917, there were 103 million Americans.
In 1917, 86% of the American population was Caucasian.
In 1917, American women couldn’t vote, couldn’t obtain birth
control, and had a life expectancy on 49 years. The life expectancy of American
men was 47 years.
In 1917, 14% of American homes had bathtubs with running
water.
In 1917, 18% of American households had one live-in servant.
In 1917, only 10% of American men graduated from high school.
On May 11, 1917, “The Washington Standard” reported.
“Olympia theater is now provided with two drop curtains, one painted by Sosman
& Landis, Chicago, entitled “The Water Place,” and the historic painting of
Olympia by Mr. Lange, which was used at the Spokane Fair during the canvass for
state capital” (Olympia, Washington,
page 7). This is another one of the many jobs by Sosman & Landis not mentioned
in Thomas G. Moses’ memoirs. This is a single article with no follow-up
information, so I am left with very little to go on.
The article notes that a painting
created for a country fair was repurposed for a theatre, used as a drop
curtain. This is not unusual. In 1893, a 20×30 mural for the California
building at the world fair was repurposed as a drop curtain for the Native Sons
of the Golden West Hal in San Francisco.
I explored this subject a few years back (see post #294). The Reed &
Gross Panorama Company created large scale paintings for the California State
Building with compositions that included: the harbor of San Francisco and the
city, as viewed from Goat Island; Christmas in Pasadena; the Stanford Ranch in
northern California; Leland Stanford’s Vineyard; Leland Stanford Jr. University
in Palo Alto; New Years at Hotel del Monte in Monterey, Santa Barbara, and
Fresno.James D. Phelan, one of the of
the World’s Fair Commissioners in 1893 purchased the 20’ x 30’ painting from
the California State Building after the fair, intending to use it as the new
drop curtain at the Native Sons of the Golden West’s Hall. At the time, the organization was
constructing a new building in San Francisco. Phelan was the association’s
president and purchased one of the paintings. Unfortunately the painting was irreparably
damaged in transit.
On January 10,
1896, “The San Francisco Call” reported, “A Fine Painting Spoiled” (page 8).
The original painting by Thaddeus Welch depicting “Golden Gate as Viewed from
Goat Island” was sold for $3,000. The article noted, “On Tuesday it was found
that the painting had been ruined by the careless persons who packed and
shipped it two years ago. Instead of winding the canvas around a roller these
bunglers wrapped it around a 4 by 4 inch scantling and every four inches the canvas
is cracked so that it is doubtful if it can be used.”
There are a few factors to consider:
The first is that the 1893 world fair painting was likely an
oil painting, as it cracked. Even if it had arrived safely, it may have looked
horrible under stage lights due to the sheen, characteristic of oil paintings. Those
unfamiliar with scenic illusion, for example Phelan, may not have realized
this, or that the oil painting would propose a fire threat once on stage.
However, I am intrigued with the basic idea that any large painting could be
transformed into a drop curtain for the stage.