Maquette and setting from the Scenery Collection, stored in the Arts Annex of the College of Visual and Performing Arts at Northern Illinois University.
The Scenic Collection includes elements from the settings of 90 operas, with approximately 900 backdrops and borders and more than 2200 framed scenic units. The stage settings illustrate an exceptional range of production styles between 1889 and 1932. In addition to the scenery there are 3 dimensional units including furniture and properties. Furthermore, the collection is supported by an extraordinary archive of production notebooks, property lists, inventories, expense records, performance time sheets, correspondence, original photographs of the sets, selected costumes, and opera stars of the period, ground plans and blueprints, painters elevations and renderings, original costume and set design drawings, and 120 exquisitely painted and detailed ¼” scale maquettes of the settings.
Unfortunately, some of the scenery has been damaged since initial documentation. The roof leaks and flooding is a problem due to non-working sump pumps.
Harry A. Vincent was a scenic artist who began working with Thomas G. Moses at Sosman and Landis in 1892. His association continued with the firm until 1896 when he moved east and secured work as a scenic artist in New York. In 1922, Moses remembered Vincent as one of the scenic artists who made a name for himself, writing, “Harry A Vincent applied to me for a position. I tried to convince him that he was foolish to break into a business that had a future only in hard work. He succeeded and has become one of the cleverest landscape painters in America. Many of his pictures are being reproduced and selling well. He is now in Italy on a sketching trip.”
Harry Aiken Vincent was born in Chicago in 1861. He was the youngest child of Aiken Vincent (1816-1881) and Sarah Ann Clark (1825-1918). His mother’s obituary was published on Dec. 17, 1918 and remembered, “Mrs. Vincent was the widow of Aiken Vincent, a paymaster at old Fort Dearborn. Mrs. Vincent frequently related to her children and grandchildren takes of Indian visits” (Chicago Tribune, page 19). Her obituary also noted that she moved to Chicago in 1842. On Dec. 14, 1842, she married her husband. The couple celebrated the birth of four children in the young and bustling western town. Harry’s much older siblings were Catherine M. (b. 1846), Sarah J. (b. 1848), Hamilton Edwin Vincent (b. 1950). Harry was born eleven years after his brother Hamilton, and remained at home well after his father’s passing in 1881.
In 1860, the year before Harry was born, the Vincent family was living at 8 N. Canal street. At the time, the Federal Census listed Aiken Vincent listed as a merchant, a career that he continued throughout his life, although the types of products he sold often changed.
In 1878, the Vincents were residing at 96 Artesian Ave. and Harry Vincent was listed as an artist in the Chicago Directory. He would continue to live at this same address until 1887. In 1884, however, he married to Catharine “Kittie” Frances Ryan (b. 1863). Kitty, or Katy as she was called at home, was the daughter of William and Catharine Ryan. She grew up in Chicago and had two sisters, Bridget and Ann. Kittie and Harry two were married on Feb. 7, 1884 in Chicago. They celebrated the birth of two daughters, Ruth E. (b. ca., 1891) and Catharine (b. 1896).
Harry was not listed in the Chicago City Directory for 1888, but by 1889 was working at 263 State St. and living at 125 Sibley. Merchants located at 263 State ranged from a photography studio to Martin Emerich Outfitting Co. In 1889. Vincent exhibited with the Chicago Society of Artists. On October 20, 1889, the “Chicago Tribune” published an article entitled “The Works of Young Artists” reporting, “Harry A. Vincent shows a marshy landscape in oils truthfully studied” (page 3). Frank C. Peyraud and Hardesty Maratta also exhibited their paintings at this time. The three would soon all work for Sosman & Landis, each hired by Thomas G. Moses.
In 1892, Vincent, Peyraud and Maratta were working for Moses as part of Sosman & Landis studio’s West Side Force. That year Moses wrote, “The Sosman and Landis Company had my new studio under way on the West Side. The old Waverly theatre, 93 x 210 feet and 40 feet high; four frames were going in and there was plenty of floor space for all kinds of work.” Moses also noted that his staff consisted of A . J. Rupert, Frank Peyraud and Harry Vincent, and a number of assistants and paint boys.”
In 1892, Moses, Vincent, Rupert and Peyraud painted scenery for William Haworth’s “A Flag of Truth.” Of the project, Moses wrote, “I did a stone quarry set – a very effective scene. Vincent did a big foliage act.” In 1892, Peyraud and Vincent were also part of the sixty-seventh annual exhibition of oil paintings at the National Academy of Design in New York. On April 24, 1892, the “Chicago Tribune” announced that H. A. Vincent’s “A Prairie Farm” and Frank C. Peyraud’s “When the Sun id Slowly Sinking” were part of the New York exhibit. (page 38).
Vincent continued to exhibit his easel art while working as a scenic artist. He was a members of the Art Institute of Chicago and the Cosmopolitan Art Club. By 1894, Vincent, Peyraud and Maratta were part of a group of artists who donated their paintings for a charity. On January 17, 1894, the “Chicago Tribune” advertised that a charity sale of watercolors and oil paintings would be held in the rooms of the Chicago Society of Artists, on the top floor of the Atheneum Building (page 8). It continued ten days and the proceeds were turned over to the Central Relief Association for the benefit of the needy. Vincent also donated paintings as part of a fundraiser for fellow Institute artist Walter M. Dewey. On Feb. 2, 1896, the “Chicago Tribune” reported that Dewey had been ill for several weeks and “His fellow artists, in their sympathy for Mr. Dewey and his family have arranged an exhibition and sale of paintings for his benefit” (page 20).
Vincent’s work as a Chicago scenic artist ended when he moved to New York in 1896. That year, Moses wrote, “In July Mr. Landis dropped in to see me about going back with them, as I was not doing too well. I agreed with the understanding that all my helpers would be taken care of, excepting Vincent, who went East where he made a hit. I hustled my unfinished contracts and joined the Sosman and Landis Studios again.”
By 1897, Vincent was listed as a New York scenic artist. On Nov. 5, 1897, “Star-Gazette” credited Vincent for the stage settings in “Iskander,” a show starring Mr. Warde at the Lyceum Theatre. The New York review reported, “For this great production the scenery is designed and painted by Harry A. Vincent” (Elmira, New York, page 7). Vincent was still listed as a scenic artist in New York City in 1899, living with his family at Park Place, near 8th Ave.
In 1900, the Vincent family moved to New Rochelle, New York. By this time, several of his old friends from Chicago has moved east and were also living nearby; this group included Moses. Moses fondly remembered his sketching trips with Vincent at this time, writing, “John Young and Harry Vincent joined me quite often, as we all lived near the spot. Occasionally I would go to Seton Falls, a very rugged place…Glen Island was another favorite place for us. On a hot day about four o’clock, would run down to 21st Street Dock and take the boat around the Battery to Glen Island where the family would join me for a fine shore dinner. It was a short car ride from here to Mt. Vernon, so it was very convenient for the family to come and return by the way of New Rochelle. Occasionally, we would take a ride to Yonkers, then up to Newburgh or West Point on the beautiful Hudson River.”
From 1901-1904, the Moses family lived in Mt. Vernon New York; Moses had partnered with Will Hamilton to establish Moses & Hamilton. By 1905 the Vincents were also living in Mt. Vernon. Prior to their move to Mt. Vernon, however, the Vincents briefly lived in Pelham New York. The 1910 Census listed the family in Mt. Vernon, with their daughters nearly grown. Then something happened; I have no idea what went down.
On October 3, 1916, Harry A. Vincent remarried a woman named Mildred Deitz in Bronx, New York. It is as if his first family simply disappeared, and I have yet to track down any further information about Kittie, Ruth or Catharine. No obituaries, wedding notices or court rulings.
In 1916, Vincent was still listed as a New York artist, living in Mt Vernon. By 1917, he has remarried and moved to New York City. Although he is still working as an artist, he was now living at 904 Ogden Ave. His obituary would note that the couple moved to Rockport, Massachusetts in 1916.
Mildred was a 47-yrs.-old woman from New York, and I cannot locate any additional information about her at all. The two remained married until Harry’s passing in 1931. Between 1916 and 1931, Harry continued to paint, the two traveled overseas and eventually moved to Rockport Massachusetts. For the remainder of their lives, they lived at 30 Atlantic Avenue; Mildred never moved and remained on Atlantic Ave. until her own passing in 1953. In regard to Harry…
On October 1, 1931, his obituary was published in the “Boston Globe” (page 21):
“Harry Aiken Vincent
Rockport, Sept. 30 – Funeral services for Harry Aiken Vincent, 66, one of the outstanding American landscape artists, who died Monday at his home, 30 Atlantic av, were conducted this afternoon from the Vincent residence. The ceremony was private. Rev George Mayo Gerrish, pastor of the Universalist Church, officiating. Cremation will follow.
Mr. Vincent, who has been a resident of the town for the past 15 years, was born in Chicago and achieved fame early in life. For the first 30 years of his professional life he made his home in New York, eventually making his permanent home here.
He held his membership in the National Academy, the New York Water Color Club, the Salmagundi Club, the Allied Artists of America, the Grand Central Galleries and the North Shore Artists’ Association.
In 1907 he won the Shaw Prize of the Salmagundi Club, the Isidor Prize given by that club in 1916, the Turnbull Prize in 1918, the Porter Prize in 1925, the William Church Osborne Prize and the Paul L. Hammond Prize, given by the New York Water Color Club for his painting, ‘Rockport Harbor.’
His wife, Mrs. Mildred (Deitz) Vincent, survives.”
No mention of his first wife or children- odd, unless they dies years ago or were estranged at the time of his death.
Vincent’s artwork lived on…
In 2015, twenty sketchbooks and a portfolio of loose drawings by Harry A. Vincent were sold at auction for $12,300; here is the link: https://www.skinnerinc.com/auctions/2818T/lots/1167 Several of the sketchbooks in the lots were inscribed “H.A. Vincent,” with two inscribed “P. Cornoyer.” Probably a good thing that this this wasn’t on my radar at the time.
A few of the sketch books in the auction lot from 2015.
The auction lot not only included pencil and charcoal sketches of various sizes, but also three books belonging to Vincent – The Whistler Book, Dante’s Inferno by Gustave Dore, and A History of Architecture. One of Vincent’s sketchbooks was an artistic record, thumbnail sketches of various works and notes regarding their sale at galleries. I have to wonder if there were any scene designs included in those sketchbooks. Regardless, I am grateful for the digital age and the many examples of his sketching techniques posted online. There are currently several pencil sketches attributed to Vincent for sale on ebay, and likely from this collection. If they were more intriguing sketches, I would have bought one by now.
Scenic art examples from the Scenery Collection, stored in the Arts Annex of the College of Visual and Performing Arts at Northern Illinois University.
The Scenic Collection includes elements from the settings of 90 operas, with approximately 900 backdrops and borders and more than 2200 framed scenic units. The stage settings illustrate an exceptional range of production styles between 1889 and 1932. In addition to the scenery there are 3 dimensional units including furniture and properties. Furthermore, the collection is supported by an extraordinary archive of production notebooks, property lists, inventories, expense records, performance time sheets, correspondence, original photographs of the sets, selected costumes, and opera stars of the period, ground plans and blueprints, painters elevations and renderings, original costume and set design drawings, and 120 exquisitely painted and detailed ¼” scale maquettes of the settings.
Unfortunately, some of the scenery has been damaged since initial documentation. The roof leaks and flooding is a problem due to non-working sump pumps.
Edward A. Morange worked with Thomas G. Moses at Sosman and Landis in the early 1880s. He eventually made quite a name for himself in New York and gained a national reputation as a scenic artist, designer and art director. I am going to start with Morange’s personal life before presenting his artistic accomplishments, as it helps provide context for his achievements amidst struggle.
Edward A. Morange was born on March 20, 1865, in Cold Springs, New York. He was the son of Edward B. Morange (1838-1904) and Ellen F. Morange (1838-1888). His father was a machinist who moved west shortly after Edwards birth, relocating the family to Davenport, Iowa. Edward was the third of five children born to the couple. His siblings were William, Emma, Justina and Agnes. By 1880, the Morange family was living in Chicago. This placed Edward in the right place at the right time to begin a scenic art career. The earliest mention of Edward in the newspaper dates from June 26, 1880. That year, the “Chicago Tribune” reported that he received a Foster Medal for his scholarship at the Dore School, one of the largest public schools in Chicago at the time.
After graduation, he soon started a career in scenic art, starting as an apprenticeship at Sosman & Landis and studying at the Art Institute of Chicago. Morange also started painting scenery at the Grand Opera House and going on sketching trips with his colleagues. In 1882, Morange primarily sketched with Moses, Hardesty Maratta and John H. Young. Of these sketching trips, Moses wrote, ““we certainly had some good trips…We were all working in watercolor. Most of our trips were along the river where we found good material and a lot of adventures – too numerous to mention. One Sunday we were sketching a grain schooner that was ready to leave at the Rock Island Elevator. A tug arrived to tow it from the lake. We objected as we had some work to finish on the sketch. The tug Captain was good-natured and invited us aboard the tug. We finished the sketch and rode out in the lake beyond the water crib some three miles. The Captain brought us back to Washington Street. We were profuse in our thanks and we were also satisfied. It gave the crew something to talk about.”
In 1883, Moses, Young, Morange and Maratta headed west to Breckenridge to see the mountains and gather source material. Moses catalogued the trip and also recorded Morange and Maratta’s early departure, writing, “Morange and Maratta were getting tired of the hard bed and indifferent food, so after a week of it they packed up and started east. The same day, Young and I started for Dillon by rail.” It is ironic that Morange departed early, as the remainder of his career would be highlighted by sketching trips throughout the world
By the late 1880, Morange met the love of his life, Julia Sowersby. The two were first mentioned in an “Inter Ocean” article on January 13, 1888 (page 8). Each participating in a Grand March at De Berg’s Hall in Chicago, an early Leap Year celebration. In 1890, the two married and began their adventure. Julia was born on Feb. 12, 1867, in Chicago. The daughter of Francis R. Sowersby and Eliza Jeffs Sowersby, her ancestors emigrated from England in 1800, initially settling at St. Catherines, Ontario, Canada, before moving to the United States. I doubt that she had any idea what being married to a scenic artist would mean over the years.
In 1893, the couple celebrated the birth of their first son in Chicago shortly after the opening of the Columbian Exposition. Morange had been hired to design some of the exhibits that year, as his career was starting to take off. By 1895, the couple was living in Washington, D.C. and soon celebrated the birth of their second child. In Washington D.C., Morange studied at the Corcoran School of Arts and Design. On May 18, 1896, their second son, Leonard Sowersby Morange, was born while the Morange’s were living in Washington, D.C. It is purported that Kern wrote “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” in the Morange home and had hoped that Leonard would return home from the war and possibly join him in musical venues. There is some credence to this tale as on Sept. 21, 1920, the “Evening World” reported “As it Should Be.” Jerome Kern, composer, P. O. address Bronxville, has a big heart. One thing he hates to see is embarrassment on the part of a friend. The other evening, he had E. A. Morange, the scenery man, over for dinner. When the guest sat down at his table, he found eight spoons and forks at his place, all properly tagged. One bore a tag reading ‘Soup’, another ‘Coffee,’ a third ‘Ham,’ and so on. Guided by the tags Mr. Morange didn’t make a single faux pas” (New York, page 20). The two had remained especially close after the passing of Leonard two years earlier.
Leonard left his studies at Yale in 1917 to join the Canadian Flying Corps and was appointed as instructor in the Royal Flying Corps. After being sent to England, he died during a training incident when two student planes collided near Shotwick on 11 August 1918. After his passing, the Bronxville American Legion Post named after him. On March 3, 1928, the “Bronxville Review” remembered the history of Leonard S, Morange and the American Legions Lodge, stating, “It is a proud honor that this post has the heritage of the name of so gallant an officer who not only gave his all for a cause but for an Ally in order to gain that service earlier when it was so seriously needed before his own country had flyers on the front.”
His older brother Irving also served as a First Lieutenant the American Airforce on the western front. At the time of Leonard’s passing, Irving was already credited with shooting down three German airplanes. Sadly, Irving passed away from pneumonia in 1926. At the time he was working in Memphis.
By 1900, the Morange family moved to New York. On October 7, 1903, their younger sister Leila was born and baptized that fall. The family continued to thrive as Edward’s career appeared to be unstoppable, at least until the beginning of WWI. In regard to Leila, she eventually married Leland Hanson and celebrated the birth of two children, Joan (b. 1930) and Leland Jr. (b. 1931).
The births of the three Morange children in Chicago, Washington, D.C. and New York mark the family’s transition from the Midwest to the East Coast. Initially, Morange’s stage work in Chicago led him to work on outside projects with many other Sosman & Landis artist including, David A Strong and Ernest Albert. By 1889, Morange and Strong were working together. On March 8, 1889, the “Chicago Tribune” reported, “A bill for a partnership accounting was filed by Edward A. Morange and David A. Strong against James G. Jansen of Jansen, Morange & Co., dealers in materials for making blackboards” (page 10).
It was in Chicago during 1894 that Edward A. Morange would meet his eventual business partner, Francis “Frank” Edgar Gates. During the day, the two studied fine art and in the evenings, they painted scenery. Later, Frank’s brother, Richard Henry Gates, joined the team. Frank and Richard Gates received their academic training at the School of Fine Arts, Washington University, St. Louis. An article in “The Scenic Artist,” noted “they were practically brought up on theatre from almost infancy, being in a family of theatrical managers, musicians and actors, it was natural that the stage should appeal to them” (Vol. 1, No. 8, December 1927, page 8). The Gates were a family of theatrical managers, musicians, and actors. Frank and Richard eventually partnered with E. A. Morange to form the studio Gates & Morange by 1897 (see past posts from Tales of a Scenic Artist and Scholar, parts 149, 171, and 189-91).
Although Gates and Morange had worked on many projects together, their first Broadway credits date from 1897 – “Straight from the Heart” by Sutton Vane and Arthur Shirley. The scenic studio of Gates & Morange was to become one of the premiere scenic studios during the early twentieth century. Although starting in Chicago, they soon moved their company to New York to produce settings for dozens of Broadway shows. Their first Broadway credits date from 1897 – “Straight from the Heart” by Sutton Vane and Arthur Shirley. Artists that worked for their firm over the years included Thomas Benrimo, William E. Castle, Charles Graham, Alexander Grainger, Arne Lundberg, and Orestes Raineiri. The New York Public Library also holds the Gates & Morange Design Collection (1894-1953), containing original set designs, curtain designs, olio designs, trade show designs, and several exhibitions.
By 1907, their incorporated their partnership. On Feb. 7, 1907, the “New York Time” announced the incorporation of “Gates & Morange, Inc., North Pelham (stage settings) capital $100,000, Directors – F. E. Gates, Tucakahie; E. A. Morange, Mount Vernon; R. N. Gates, Bronxville.” (page 13). Morange was also integral in establishing the eastern affiliate of Sosman & Landis, New York Studios shortly after incorporating Gates and Morange. In 1910, David H. Hunt, Secretary and treasurer of Sosman & Landis, established New York Studios. He was one of the initial stockholders; at the beginning the firm’s stockholders included David H. Hunt, Adelaide Hunt, Edward Morange, Henry L. Rupert, and W. E. Castle. New York Studios listed Adelaide A. Hunt as the President, Edward A. Morange as the vice president, and David H. Hunt, as the Treasurer. The company’s starting capital was $40,000, and listed the following directors: Edward A. Morange, Adelaide A. and David H. Hunt, with offices located at 325 W 29th Street, New York. Business listings noted that theatrical equipment was the primary product produced by the company.
It was during this time that Morange was gaining a national reputation, helping secure Gates and Morange an incredible amount of work. Throughout the duration of Gates & Morange; Morange was the primary visionary and traveler, gathering source material for their designs. Gates managed the studio and the contracts.
Edward A. Morange’s passport picture.
In 1908, the U. S., Government sent Morange to the Northwestern Territory to make sketches preparatory to painting a mammoth panorama for the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific exposition in Seattle, Washington. Morange also painted scenes for the government of Yosemite, Yellowstone National Park, Glacier National Park, the Grand Canyon, and many other areas. Morange constantly took advantage of painting from nature, keeping research files from trips throughout the World. However, his grandest adventures were with George C. Tyler, the head of Leibler & Co., and English Director Frederick Stanhope.
Their international adventures began in 1911, necessitating Morange applying for a passport on March 20, 1911. He was preparing to visit England and Havre, but ended up touring England, France, Germany, Algeria and Tunis for two months. His physical description at the time was listed as 5’-5”, high forehead, broad mouth, square chin, dark brown hair (with grey and parted in the middle), blue grey eyes, ruddy complexion and smooth shaven. In 1991, he was 46 yrs. old and living with his family in Mt Venon, New York. Richard H. Gates certified the information on Morange’s application was correct. The purpose for Morange’s trip was to gather information for the upcoming production, “The Garden of Allah.” Years later, a story from the trip was included in his obituary:
“Mr. Morange spent the summer of 1911 in Africa gathering material. While on this trip an attempt was made to affect the first crossing o the Sahara desert by automobile, and effort that failed eleven miles from the starting point when Mr. Morange’s car was buried in a sandstorm.” His experience was first shared in “Staging a Sandstorm” by Wendell Phillips Dodge in 1912 (The Theatre, Volume 15, 1912. Here is the article, as it is just wonderful:
“The busiest actor on the stage of the Century Theatre, where Robert Hichens’ drama, ”The Garden of Allah,” is still attracting large crowds, is the sand man. Though he occupies the centre of the stage only about one-fifth of the time that it takes Lewis Waller to give Boris Androvsky’s long soliloquy, he nevertheless grips the audience more than any other incident in the play.
While the sand man does not appear in the cast, still he is very much in evidence behind the scenes. For his one big scene he requires the entire stage from the foots to the backdrop, from wings to wings and from the boards to the flies; and for his quick-change dressing-room he must have the great thirty-foot deep pit, the breadth and depth of the stage itself, which extends under the stage. For his “make-up” he requires almost a ton of dry colors for the ground alone, and no less than three hundred pounds of powder for the high lights. In making up he has to use eight tables and is assisted by thirty dressers in putting on his costume. His “make-up” is put on with the aid of a dozen powerful electrical blowers, in order to give the right blend, and his costume is made to fly before the breeze by an electrically-driven stage gale that would make the winds of Chicago’s lake front seem like a gentle summer’s night air ripple. He makes his entrance at top speed and keeps on moving in a whirling-dervish sort of a way throughout the scene, occupying the centre and every other part of the stage at once and all the time until the close of his speech, which is the most heart-body and-soul-rending in the whole play, filling the minds and hearts of the audience with all the emotions that exist between earth and sky.
In order to stage the sandstorm in “The Garden of Allah.” in spirit and in truth, George C. Tyler, of the firm of Liebler and Company, went into the heart of the great Sahara Desert, accompanied by Hugh Ford, general stage director, and Edward A. Morange, of the firm of Gates and Morange, scenic artists, and laid siege to an actual and ferocious sandstorm which they captured and have transported in all its fiery temper to the Century Theatre, New York.
Mr. Tyler sent his automobile to Cherbourg, and from there the motor trip into the desert began. At Marseilles, they embarked on the Ville d Oran, a small boat, to the African coast. After a rough passage the party reached Philippeville, from which point they put out for the Sahara. On the road between El-Arrouch and Le Hamma the sight of the “devil wagon” spread consternation, once entirely demoralizing a caravan, causing a stampede of camels. After some hours of speeding over the sands of time, the party passed El Kantara. Another hour and they arrived at an oasis in the centre of which lies the city of Biskra. Here they met Mr. Hichens, and after a reading of the dramatization of his novel amid the true atmosphere suggested in the book, they started out to reach the heart of the desert. Theirs’ was the first automobile that had ever penetrated the sands of the Sahara, and this it did to such an extent that on one occasion it sank so deep it took six donkeys and a camel to pull it out of the hole it dug as it plowed through the sand, embedding itself deeper and deeper with each drive. They were no sooner out of this difficulty than they ran into a real sandstorm.
“We had been gone from Biskra a short three hours,” said Mr. Morange, “when we began to find it necessary to put on our goggles and raincoats to protect our bodies from the sand, lifted and swirled around by intermittent, playful gusts of wind. Looking at” a herd of camels, probably an eighth of a mile away, we noticed that different groups of them would suddenly be veiled to our view while others to both sides would be perfectly visible. Turning to look at the low hills that stand out dark against the sands in front of them and darker still against the sky beyond, we saw faintly what appeared to be steam, along the surface in various shapes, rising from the sands as they approached the dark hills, and veiling them until they, the sky above and the sands in front melted into one even tone of light, misty, yellowish gray. Around the veiled mass the sun was shining. A feeling of discomfort, not unmixed with anxiety, possessed our party as the bright sun, with which we started out, disappeared. To move our jaws but slightly found us grinding sand with our teeth, and we instinctively tied our handkerchiefs around our heads, covering our nostrils and securing some protection for the mouth. We could no longer pick out the road that but a few moments before was well defined by the ruts made by the mail diligence that regularly struggles between Biskra and Touggourt. The shifting sand had been blown over the road as snow might obscure a highway. We had gone to the desert for ‘atmosphere’ and we were getting it with a vengeance.
We stopped the car, as we all agreed that it would be dangerous to proceed. From the direction from which we had noticed many little whirling steam-like gusts appear, we were now startled by the appearance of a huge irregular cloud, probably a hundred feet in width, moving rapidly toward us. A curious feature of it was that the bottom of it seemed to clear the ground, often rising and sinking alternatively. The color of the cloud was much darker than that of the sands around it. It was of a rather dirty yellowish red, but very luminous in quality. A half dozen camels that we could dimly distinguish, crouched or knelt, huddled together, stretching their necks close to the ground, their heads turned toward the approaching cloud. “The edge of this cloud, nearest to us, seemed entirely independent of the surrounding atmosphere, but as we were directly in its path, we instinctively closed our eyes, crouched in the automobile and turned our backs on it, as one would a blinding onslaught of snow and sleet. We were conscious of a hot, stinging sensation in the parts of our flesh exposed and a peculiar whistling, swirling rush of something passing over us for a few seconds. When I partially opened my eyes. I realized that it was almost as dark as night. When it grew lighter, we found ourselves in a yellowish, smoky fog of fine sand. We had to wait for probably fifteen minutes before the air cleared sufficiently for us to distinguish objects fifty feet away. Protected in the car as well as we were, we were still half-choked with sand. Little piles of sand were heaped up in front of the wheels and in all places that would allow them to form, as drifts of snow might pile. At this moment, we fully realized the oppressiveness of this dreary waste, this awful ocean of seemingly boundless sand.”
The question now was how to transfer the real, living sandstorm to the stage of the Century Theatre. Stage sandstorms date back more than twenty years, when one was introduced in Fanny Davenport’s production of “Gismonda.” This sandstorm, naturally, was very crude, since in those days there was no such thing as light effects nor stage mechanism. The players themselves created the sandstorm by tossing handfuls of Fuller’s earth over their heads to the accompaniment of the rubbing of sandpaper in the wings to give the suggestion of wind blowing. Belasco put over the first realistic sandstorm in “Under Two Flags,” causing Fuller’s earth to be blown through funnel-like machines from the wings, while at the same time stereopticon cloud storm effects were played on gauze drops. Mr. Belasco also introduced the now famous bending palm to stage sandstorms, to convey the idea of motion. Once when “Under Two Flags” was produced in San Francisco the local stage manager told the property man to get something that could be blown across the stage, to be used in the sandstorm scene. There was not time for a scene rehearsal, but the property man connected a “blower” made out of a soap box with the ventilating system, and as the cue was given, tossed heaps of flour into the box to be blown over the stage. The play ended right there, with scenery and everything covered as if a blizzard had struck the place! It required weeks to get the flour off of the scenery, to which it stuck and hardened. Last year Frederic Thompson introduced a sandstorm in a scene showing the Western Bad Lands, sawdust being blown from the wings. But the sawdust scattered everywhere, even into the orchestra.
Messrs. Tyler and Ford found no bending palms in the storm they witnessed and encountered on the Sahara, so no bending palms appear in “The Garden of Allah” sandstorm. Yet motion is suggested by other means—the robes of an Arab going across the stage waving, the sides of the Arab tent flapping in the wind, the garment of Batouch, Domini’s servant, fluttering when he emerges from the tent to tighten the anchorage rope to the windward. Besides these things, there is the whirling swirling sand forming real sandspouts, such as have never before found their way on the stage.
To create the actual whirlwind that blows the sand at the Century Mr. Ford installed under the stage a series of powerful electric blowers, and connected these with pipes leading up through the stage flooring at carefully planned points of vantage. One set of pipes is located by the left-stage tormentor near the front of the tent, and another on the other side of the proscenium by the right-stage tormentor. There is another set of these pipes hidden behind the tent towards the centre of the stage, and still another set backstage. The pipe sets consist of four pipes such as are used for drain-pipes on houses, of different heights and with the openings placed at slightly different angles. Under the stage alongside of the electric blowers are two rows of troughs, one on either side of the stage, into which a dozen men feed the “sand,” which is forced up the pipes and blown at a rate far exceeding that of any windstorm ever experienced on land or sea! In all there are twenty blowers, arranged in four series of five each. Another single blower is placed in the left-stage tormentor and blows only air, to dispel the continuous streams of sand blown through the pipes by the other blowers. The pipes are so placed and arranged on the stage as to provide a continuous whirling swirl of sand, never ending, never-ceasing, ever increasing in its fiery fury, until the storm quiets down and the light of day brightens the scene.
Mr. Ford placed the pipes at different angles so that each one would send a stream of sand that would cut and dispel the stream from another pipe, thus obtaining a continuous spiral sandspout instead of a streak of sand like the tail of a comet from each pipe. Also, the three sets of pipes used for creating the sandstorm are started and worked alternately, beginning with the set in front of the tent, then the set at the right side of the proscenium, and finally the set beside the tent, towards the centre of the stage. This alternate movement gives the swirling effect that makes the storm real. The one set of pipes placed back stage behind the tent, however, shoots straight across the stage in order to give a cloud of mystery and add density to the scene.
About three hundred pounds of sand is blown through the four sets of pipes at each performance. This is kept from blowing into the auditorium by means of an “air curtain” at the foot lights and at the first entrances, enough pressure of compressed air to keep the “sand” back. The sand used is nothing more nor less than good old cornmeal! Three hundred pounds is wasted at each performance—enough to feed a whole ranch!
Cornmeal was resorted to after everything else, including sand itself, had failed to blow and act like sand on the stage. Real sand from Fire Island beach was first tried, but besides being too heavy to be kept swirling in the air, it did not look like sand when the lights were thrown on it. Real sand on the stage when the lights were thrown on it as it was blown across the stage looked like so much soft coal soot.
The heaps of sand on the stage, forming the minor sand dunes, and also the ground of the desert, are composed of ground cork, painted an orange yellow. Cork is used because it is clean and dustless and easily handled.
To light the sandstorm, Mr. Ford uses only the footlights, the central portion being a deep orange with a deep blue on either side. This keeps the heart of the storm, so to speak, in the light, and the edges are blended away into the darkness at the sides of the stage, providing not only absolute realism, but shadings that suggest the most delicate of pastels. The wonderful lighting of this scene shows the varying color emotions of the desert, with its sand dunes of the palest primrose, and the purple fury of the desert storm.
Stereopticon storm cloud effects are thrown on the sand curtain formed by the cornmeal slung across the back of the stage by the pipes put there for that purpose, and on a gauze curtain just behind, from arc-lights placed on two lighting tops built on either side of the proscenium.
To obtain the delicate pastel light effects of the sandstorm and of the other desert scenes in “The Garden of Allah,” Mr. Ford first painted the scenes with stage lights using the remarkable switchboard of the former New Theatre for his palette, and the clouds of cornmeal as his canvas. In that way, having the true picture of the sandstorm, which he had himself seen in the Sahara in his mind, he achieved what no one else ever has done before—he has, “in spirit and in truth,” transported the sandstorm of the desert, with all its multitudinous shades and shadows, feelings and emotions, to the stage.
On Jan. 6, 1913, the “St. Louis Star and Times” published an article written by Morange, entitled “A Visit to the Wonderful Home of Wonderful Loti.” After designing and painting scenery for “The Garden of the Gods,” Morange was involved with “The Daughter of Heaven,” a play of Chinese life by Pierre Loti and Judith Gautler, produced by Liebler & Co.
Morange received a noted form G. C. Tyler of the Leibler Co. on Jan. 2, 1912, that stated, “Tomorrow, at 11, if convenient, we’ll take up the matter of a successor to ‘The Garden of Allah’ at the Century. Prepare to put your summer at my disposal.” The summer before, Tyler, Hugh Ford, the stage director and Morang traveled to “the heart of the desert of Sahara, one of the most interesting trips ever taken, in order that we might absorb Algerian atmosphere preparatory to staging Hichens play.” Morange explained that he reported promptly at 11. “Well,” said I, ‘where do we go this summer? To India?” “No,.” said Tyler, “next year’s spectacle at the Century will be a drama of modern China.” “Then we go to China,” I suggested. “Better than that,” said Tyler, “I am going to take you to the wonderspot of the world. We go to Rochefort.” I need no further. Explanation. Since my early youth I had been an enthusiast over modern French literature. And of its motley crew of masters, one figure stood forth in highlight. “We go to see Pierre Loti?” I gasped. “Right,” replied Tyler. “Loti has written for us a Chinese play entitled ‘The Daughter of Heaven”…”No Americans have ever visited Loti at his home before.” Tyler went on. “We sail early in March. My automobile will meet us at Cherbourg and after a few days in Paris, we proceed directly to Loti’s home.” The program was carried out to the letter.” There is much more to the article, but I am stopping here.1912 was also the year that the Morange Family moved to Bronxville, New York. Edward and Julia would remain in Bronxville for the remainder of their lives.
In 1914 Morange was listed as the art director for a silent movie, “The Great Diamond Robbery.” This six-reel film was assembled by the Playgoer’s Film Company of New York City, shown in five acts, 6 parts, 250 scenes. Listings advertised, “It is indeed a masterpiece of photoplay productions” (“Altoona Tribune,” 8 May 1914, page 3). The film was based on the play by Edward M. Alfriend and A. C. Wheeler. On March 20, 1914, the New York Tribune published, “At last a theatrical manager has put on a legitimate drama, with a cast composed entirely of screen novices, but stage veterans. The resulting motion picture more than justifies the effort…‘The Great Diamond Robbery’ is a melodrama which was produced in New York about twenty years ago, when it ran for about a year in the American Theatre. It is adorned with regular melodrama features, such as a beautiful villainess, a working girl heroine and gallant detective, who foils assorted criminals and marries the working girl. But the story is nevertheless one that holds attention.” Wallace Eddinger starred as detective Dick Brummage in a case involving a Brazilian adventurous (Gail Kane) and the theft of the fabulous Romanoff diamonds. When Detective Brummage proved Kane’s guilt, she took poison.
It is right around this time that life began to change for the Morange. The war began, his sons enlisted to serve, and Leonard perished. He continued to succeed in business, but some of the spark left him. On May 8, 1920, he applied for a passport to visit Leonard’s grave in England. In regard to his reason for travel on his passport application, he initially wrote, “To visit my son’s grave,” but then crossed it out and wrote, “to tour and visit friends.” Morange’s application at the time listed that he lived outside of the United States for the following periods:
England/France/Germany/Algeria/Tunis April 1911-June 1911
England/France May 1912-June 1912
England/France March 1914-June 1914.
Further information on his application noted that That he was currently living in Bronxville, NY and worked as a scenic artist. His last passport was from March 1911. He was planning travel to England and Havre and initially wrote (visiting my son’s grave, then crossed that out and wrote touring and visiting friends.
Throughout the 1920s, the reputation of Gates & Morange continued to grow. In 1927. The “Scenic Artist” featured an article about the firm, concluding, “It is refreshing to know that here is one studio housing a large staff of academically trained artists that has kept pace with the insurgent movement with its radical and liberal tendencies, which has been at work in recent years in the theatres of Europe and America. That Gates & Morange have accepted what is sane and beneficial of this movement is readily seen by the numerous beautiful compositions covering the walls of their design rooms and bulging out their portfolios. Through them all is seen the sureness and artistic simplicity that only an artist of thorough and correct draughtsmanship, with a fine decorative feeling, a profound knowledge and delicate sense of color and imagination could create. The present possibilities of producing pleasing or bizarre effects with the highly perfected and easily operated electric equipment of the modern stage, has opened the theatre to the many experiments and faddist illusions that none but an experienced scenic artist could endow with poetical beauty and mystery they exhibit. With all these the stage has not lost its glamour for these artists as the many new ideas and effects around which authors and composers may write plays or revues, upon the initiative of these creators of things novel and beautifully interesting.”
Gates & Morange Design Library. Undated clipping in the scrapbook of Thomas G. Moses (1856-1934).1903-1904 advertisement for Gates & Morange.
Although Morange continued to design and paint, he became involved with Gates on other business endeavors, such as real estate development. On June 30, 1938, the “Bronxville Review” announced, “Edward A. Morange of Sagamore Rd, is a member of the six-man fact finding committee headed by the village trustee Joseph T. Creamer, of Tuckahoe, appointed by Mayor Walter D. Crouch of that village on Tuesday as the initial step by officials to establish a housing authority to eliminate slums” Gates and Morange were heavily invested in the development of Sagamore; they bought multiple lots and developed them, each working with their own architect.
Morange’s roots remained tied to Bronxville, and a lovely obituary was published upon his passing on May 26, 1955. Here is a portion of it, as it sums up a lovely and ambitious life:
“Both a scenic artist and stage set designer, Mr. Morange was a member of Gates & Morange in New York and was active until the start of his illness in 1951. When he joined Frank and Richard Gates, the first firm assignment was painting a curtain for Springfield, Mass., the theaters which helped establish the reputation of the concern. The work was soon in demand and among the scenery Mr. Morange and the firm designed were sets for Florenz Ziegfeld, George C. Tyler, Harrison Grey Fiske, and Leibler & Co. Some of the firm’s settings for Charles Couglan’s ‘Citizen Pierre,’ [or the operetta ‘Off the Earth’] and for ‘The Garden of Allah’ which was not done until Mr. Morange spent the summer of 1911 in Africa gathering material. While on this trip an attempt was made to effect the first crossing o the Sahara desert by automobile, and effort that failed eleven miles from the starting point when Mr. Morange’s car was buried in a sandstorm. He also went to Alaska to prepare a panorama of the region for the U. S. Government. On this trip he developed the idea for the famous totem pole dance which was later incorporated into the musical ‘Rose Marie.” Most of the hits of the day bore the setting credit to Gates and Morange, and included ‘Daughter of Heaven,” and ‘Joseph and his Brethren.’ The Brander Matthews Museum at Columbia University uses some of the company’s models, and in 1949 Mr. Morange’s work was featured in the exhibit “Behind American Footlights” at the Metropolitan Museum. Settings for ‘Promander Walk’ are said to have inspired architectural projects in the Eat, and the apple orchard scene in ‘Leah Kleschna’ and the London Bridge scene in ‘Oliver Twist’ brought special praise form the critics.” His illness started with “a cerebral hemorrhage in a New York motion picture theater. He was brought to Lawrence Hospital by ambulance and later was taken to Connecticut.”
There is so much more that could be written about Morange in terms of his scenic contributions, but that would be a book in itself.
Scenic art examples from the Scenery Collection, stored in the Arts Annex of the College of Visual and Performing Arts at Northern Illinois University.
The Scenic Collection includes elements from the settings of 90 operas, with approximately 900 backdrops and borders and more than 2200 framed scenic units. The stage settings illustrate an exceptional range of production styles between 1889 and 1932. In addition to the scenery there are 3 dimensional units including furniture and properties. Furthermore, the collection is supported by an extraordinary archive of production notebooks, property lists, inventories, expense records, performance time sheets, correspondence, original photographs of the sets, selected costumes, and opera stars of the period, ground plans and blueprints, painters elevations and renderings, original costume and set design drawings, and 120 exquisitely painted and detailed ¼” scale maquettes of the settings.
Unfortunately, some of the scenery has been damaged since initial documentation. The roof leaks and flooding is a problem due to non-working sump pumps.
Jess D. Bonner (1879-1914) worked as a scenic artist for Sosman & Landis, c. 1902-1906. I initially stumbled across his name when looking for information about scenic artist Howard Tuttle. In 1907, Bonner was assisted by Howard’s son, with Maurice Tuttle.
Maurice Tuttle in 1907Jess D. Bonner in 1907
On December 8, 1907, the “Los Angeles Herald” published an article entitled, “Jess D. Bonner and His Work.” After describing Bonner’s scenic contributions for the production of “Cleopatra” and “Sign of the Cross,” the article mentioned his early training in Indianapolis and work for Sosman & Landis. At the time, Bonner was 28 yrs. old.
Here is the article in its entirety, as it provides a wonderful glimpse into backstage life and Bonner and his directing a storm scene for ‘Cleopatra.”
“Did you ever witness a storm in the tropics – a storm that carries before it, punctuating its approach with vivid flashes of lightning through inky blackness and foretelling destruction by an incessant cannonading in the overcast heavens? If you have you will. Appreciate the difficulties of reproducing such a phenomena upon the stage and yet, if you saw the Ferris production of ‘Cleopatra’ at the Auditorium a few weeks ago, you will realize that the task had been accomplished.
“There was a storm, the most realistic and terrible of its kind ever placed upon a Los Angeles stage. From in front of the curtain the effect was tremendous. The storm king, majestic in his wrath, arose at command of the Egyptian queen to destroy the Roman fleet. Darkness fell. A tempest arose. Lightning flashed athwart the horizon, and the crash of thunder was deafening. Great palms swayed to and fro and fell crashing to the stage before the fury of the onslaught. Storm clouds raced madly across the sky. It was nature in hostile mood, a wonderful picture of terribly destructive and unleashed power.
King of the Storm.
“Back of the scenes a young man, short and heavily set, stood calmly regarding his work. This was his storm. He had made it, and his hand was on the lever of its control. He seemed unconcerned in the midst of the tumult. He didn’t even laugh, and certainly the scene was ridiculous enough to compel laughter from the ordinary observer.
“Over to the left of the stage was a wagon piled high with boulders. Its wheels were elliptical, and when conveyance was dragged across the floor a heavy rumble of thunder resulted. High up in the wings was the thunder boy with still more boulders, which, on signal, he dumped into an irregular wooden chute with many turnings. These rocks hurtling stageward in their narrow confines thundered realistically until they struck. At the bottom, a heavy metal sheet put there for that purpose. This was the crash that seemed so fearsome from the auditorium.
“So much thunder. Back of the horizon line stood a stagehand. Jovelike in his control of the clouds. He revolved a painted glass disk at the end of a tin cylinder, back of which was a strong light. The scene, a transparency, caught up the clouds, which then scudded across the sky as though driven by a mighty wind.
How Lightning is Made.
“Still another mechanic controlled the lightning, produced by a similar contrivance, the glass being smoked and black, and irregular lines scratched across its surface by a pin point. This provided the flash outlined against the heavens, while the glare came from two carbons, manipulated by hand and which lighted up the entire stage when brought into contact.
The storm rose to a sublime height of fury, then the curtain fell and the audience broke into enthusiastic applause. Once, twice, three times, the great velvet was raised and lowered. The lights sprang up and in an instant the storm disappeared, the scene was struck and a new one erected in its place.
“Great, Jess, great!” called Dick Ferris approvingly, and Jess D. Bonner smiled and went about his further business. It had been merely an incident in his week’s work.
“Bonner is a young man. He looks scarcely more than a boy and readily confesses that his youthful appearance in the past has militated against his profitable employment, managers being afraid to trust so young a man with the important duties which fall to an artist in his position.
A Master Scene Painter.
“Jess Bonner is a master scene painter. He has painted and designed scenes used in Ferris productions. Every newspaper in town has commented upon the beauty of the work. Every patron of the playhouse has marveled at the lavishness of the productions. Yet few of them ever have heard of Bonner, and probably not one in ten thousand would recognize him on the street. He is the busiest man around the Auditorium. Sedley Brown, stage director, has his troubles and is fairly busy himself, but Bonner, when he is engaged upon a big production, does most of his sleeping paint brush in hand. Last week he built, “Sign of the Cross,” which will be the biggest thing yet placed on the Auditorium stage. There are fourteen scenes in this four-act play, and Mr. Bonner was called upon to turn them out in eleven days’ time. He has one assistant regularly employed – Maurice Tuttle – and a paint boy to help him.
30,000 Square Feet of Canvas.
“For ‘The Sign of the Cross’ production there was a total of 30,000 square feet of canvas to be covered and the task was too great. Consequently, Arthur Hurtt was called upon to assist and Mr. Hurtt painted four drops, which will be shown for the first time tomorrow night. These drops contain about 1500 square feet of canvas each, leaving some 24,000 feet to be painted by Mr. Bonner and his assistant. This includes still other drops, two interiors, one of them a prison scene and the other an apartment in Nero’s palace; a forest scene, wings, borders and so forth. Bonner completed the work late last night. Then he went home with the avowed intention of sleeping through the ensuing twenty-four hours without interruption.
“Jess Bonner began his work as a scene painter at Indianapolis under the direction of Walter Clark Bellows at the Grand Opera House. That was eight years ago. Since then he has been employed in numerous studios and by several different stock organizations. He painted all the scenery for Dick Ferris’ production of ‘The Sleepy King,’ an ill-starred musical affair which Mr. Ferris put out several seasons ago and which proved a failure, though it was produced on a lavish scale and was presented by an all-star cast of musical comedians, headed by Walter Jones.
Was in San Francisco.
“For a year and a half Mr. Bonner was with the Grand and Tivoli opera houses in San Francisco, his employment there being terminated by the great fire. In Chicago he was with the Bush Temple stock Company. In Chicago also he was employed during several summers at the Sosman & Landis scenic studios, the largest in America, and the other night happening to drop in at the Mason Opera house, he saw a scene which he had painted in that employ, not knowing where it was to go or what use was to be made of it.
Mr. Bonner’s work, however, is far beyond that of a mere scene painter. He makes all his own designs. Thus, he must ‘be up’ in all styles of architecture, in all periods of ornamentation; and he must guard constantly against the instruction of the incongruous and the anachronistic. This has made him a student and he is today one of the best-informed men on a wide range of subjects in his profession.
For “The Great Ruby” he painted a scene in the clouds, nothing of earth being visible. For ‘Under the Sea’ he painted a submarine scene. So, as he himself says, his studies are not confined to earth alone, but to the heavens and the waters as well. His is a comprehensive art and he is master in its execution, as well as a master in lighting effects and in all the details of stage mechanics.”
Seven years later, Bonner passed away in Minneapolis, Minnesota. At the time of his passing, Bonner was working as a scenic artist for the Twin City Scenic Co. His obituary was published in the “Indianapolis Star” on November 12, 1914 and the notice stated, “The body of Jesse D. Bonner, formerly of Indianapolis, who died Nov. 7 at Minneapolis, has been brought here for burial. He was born in Indianapolis thirty-five years ago. He was a scenic artist and had been identified with studios in San Francisco, Los Angeles and Minneapolis. He is survived by a widow, a sister, Mrs. Jesse B. Johnston of San Francisco, and a brother Robert O. Bonner of Indianapolis. The funeral will be held tomorrow afternoon at the home of Mr. Bonner’s brother, 201 North Nee Jersey street. Burial will be in Crown Hill Cemetery” (page 14).
Jesse D. Bonner. From his 1914 obituary listing.
Jesse Dun Bonner was born in Evansville, Indiana, in 1879. He was the son of James B. Bonner (1835-1893) and Deborah Anna Houghland Bonner (1842-1912). His parents were married in Warrick County in 1870, celebrating the birth of four children: Estella, Ida, Robert, and Jesse. When their father passed away in 1893, the “Booneville Enquirer” reported that Mr. Bonner was born in Booneville, Indiana, July 2, 1835 and married Miss Deborah Houghland on Jan. 9, 1868. The Bonners moved to Evansville in 1880, where they continued to reside. The article described that Mr. Bonner “was taken from his work by cancer which formed in his side, which first made an appearance last May. In spite of the best medical attention, it would not yield to treatment, and caused his death. Four children are left with his wife to mourn his loss – Mrs. Owen Lloyd of Indianapolis, Robert, Ida and Jesse at home (4 May 1893, page 4). At the time of his father’s death, Jesse was thirteen years old.
His mother’s obituary in 1912 added a little more information about the Bonner’s early life in Evansville and Indianapolis. On August 20, 1912, the “Indianapolis News” reported, “Mrs. Bonner had never fully recovered from an operation she underwent a year and a half ago. She was born in Boonville, Indiana, in 1842, and lived in Evansville for some time before she came to this city in 1898. After coming to Indianapolis, she lived at the home of her son Robert O. Bonner, in the Clarina apartments. She is survived by two sons, Robert O. Bonner of this city and Jess D. Bonner of Minneapolis, Minn., a daughter, Mrs. Estelle B. Johnston of Los Angeles, Cali., and a brother Oscar B. Houghland, of Evansville. Mrs. Bonner was a lifelong member of the Presbyterian church and was actively associated with the church work” (page 4).
Indiana directories provided a trail of breadcrumbs for Jesse’s early work as an ornamental painter and scenic artist. In 1897, he was listed as a decorator in 1897, living with his mother, brother and sister in Evansville. In 1898, he and his sister Ida moved to Indianapolis where they lived together at 1207 N. Illinois. Ida was listed as a music teacher and Jesse as an artist. By 1899, Jesse was living by himself and listed as a fresco artist, boarding at 915. N. Illinois. It must have been around this time that Bonner assisted Walter Clark Bellows at the Grand Opera House. Bonner was listed in the Indianapolis Directory until the 1901, finally boarding at No. 9 in accommodations known as “the Ballard.” By 1902, Bonner had moved to Chicago, Illinois. This is likely when Bonner first worked for Sosman & Landis.
A 1909 article about Bonner and his scenic art mentioned that he worked on the original productions of “The Wizard of Oz and “Arizona.” (Indianapolis News, 24 Nov. 1909, page 5). I have written about these productions in in past posts, as Walter W. Burridge designed the scenery and painted some of the setting for the premiere at the Chicago Opera House. Other scenic artists who worked in the production included Fred Gibson, Herbert Martin and artists from the Daniels Scenic Co. This means that Bonner was one of the assistants in Chicago in 1902. This same year, Jesse D. Bonner was listed under “Marriage Licenses” in the Chicago Tribune.” August 28, 1902, the “Chicago Tribune” listed a marriage license was granted to Jess D. Bonner and Ruby H. Dean, ages 22 and 20. Ruby Hunt Dean was also living in Indianapolis with her mother in 1900, likely when she first met Jesse. The marriage did not last, however, and on July 30, 1909 she married her second husband, Walter K. Lincoln (1876-1930). Lincoln was a lawyer, and they remain together until his passing in 1930. Ruby never remarried lived until 1973. She is buried in Tucson, Arizona.
By 1904, Bonner was living in Minneapolis and listed as a stagehand at the Lyceum Theatre in the City Directory, He was rooming at 1502 Nicollet Ave. By 1906, Bonner was a scenic artist at the Tivoli Theatre in San Francisco. After the earthquake and fire, his relatives searched for him in the newspapers. On May 1, 1906, the “San Francisco Call” published a notice for Bonner: “ANYONE knowing whereabouts of Jesse D. Bonner, scenic artist, late of Tivoli, send word to Governor’s office, Sacramento” (page 6).
By 1909, Bonner was again working as a scenic artist in Minneapolis but completed a project in Indianapolis. On Nov. 24, 1909, the “Indianapolis News” reported, “The palace and garden drop curtains of the new Colonial Theatre were painted by Jess D. Bonner, of Minneapolis, who began his work in connection with the old Grand stock company, of this city. After leaving here he studied in the scenic studio of Sosman & Landis, Chicago. He painted scenery for theaters in Chicago, Minneapolis, Los Angeles, San Francisco and other places, and worked on the original production of ‘The Wizard of Oz,” and ‘Arizona.’ The central idea for the garden drop curtain of the Colonial theater was taken from the drawing for a program cover made by Mr. Williams, cartoonist of the Indianapolis News. Mr. Bonner is yet under thirty years of age” (page 5).
In 1909, Jesse D. Bonner was listed as an artist in the Minneapolis Directory, working for the Twin City Scenic Co. and living in flat 1, 60 N. 12th St. In 1910, Jesse D. Bonner was listed as a scenic artist in the Minneapolis City Directory, living at flat 1, 68 N. 12th. In 1911, he was again listed in the directory, now living at flat 5, 1695 Hennepin Ave. In 1913, he was working for the Twin City Scenic Co. and rooming at 2819 Nicollet Ave.
Jess Bonner’s gravestone at Crown Hill Cemetery, Indianapolis, Indiana.
When Bonner died in 1914, his obituary noted a widow, but did not list a name. At the time of his passing, Jesses was married to Frances. The 1915 Minneapolis city directory listed Frances E. as the widow of Jesse D. Bonner, boarding as 900 22nd Ave NE. This is the same location listed for Jesse D. Bonner in 1914. Interestingly, their last home together was only four blocks away from where my husband and I purchased our first home and lived from 1995 to 2003.
Scenic art examples from the Scenery Collection, stored in the Arts Annex of the College of Visual and Performing Arts at Northern Illinois University.
The Scenic Collection includes elements from the settings of 90 operas, with approximately 900 backdrops and borders and more than 2200 framed scenic units. The stage settings illustrate an exceptional range of production styles between 1889 and 1932. In addition to the scenery there are 3 dimensional units including furniture and properties. Furthermore, the collection is supported by an extraordinary archive of production notebooks, property lists, inventories, expense records, performance time sheets, correspondence, original photographs of the sets, selected costumes, and opera stars of the period, ground plans and blueprints, painters elevations and renderings, original costume and set design drawings, and 120 exquisitely painted and detailed ¼” scale maquettes of the settings.
Unfortunately, some of the scenery has been damaged since initial documentation. The roof leaks and flooding is a problem due to non-working sump pumps.
Howard Tuttle worked for Thomas G. Moses and the Sosman & Landis studio, c. 1887-1890.
Tuttle was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in 1859. Very little is known of Tuttle’s training or early childhood. However, his artistic endeavors on the streets of Philadelphia included sidewalk drawing, a pastime that connected Tuttle to Henry and James William Carling in an article published by the “Times Dispatch” on May 2, 1937 (Richmond, Virginia, page 63). The article reported, “James landed in Philadelphia, and the two brothers continued their sidewalk drawing with a boy named Howard Tuttle, the famous manhood scenic artist.” For historical context, Carling supported himself as a sidewalk artist and Vaudeville caricaturist for a while in America.
In regard to Tuttle, in 1877 he married Sarah Gohl (1860-1921) and the two celebrated the birth of three children. The eldest, Percy Tuttle, was born in Chicago in 1878 and became an actor. He was the first to pass away in 1908 from a tumor that caused paralysis of both upper and lower extremities. Hazel was born in Michigan in 1886 and Maurice was born in Chicago in 1889. Both followed in their father’s footsteps as scenic artists.
The first listing that I have located for Tuttle as a scenic artist is in 1885. He was working as a scenic artist at Hooley’s Theatre, while living at 359 Hurlbut Ave.
Two years later, he was working for Thomas G. Moses and then Sosman & Landis. In 1887, Moses established Burridge, Moses & Louderback, a scenic studio at with Walter W. Burridge and J. D. Louderback at the Columbia Theatre. pulled out of the firm by that fall, with Moses & Louderback continuing for a short period after that. When Burridge left, Moses hired Howard Tuttle, writing, “Burridge and Louderback couldn’t agree, so Burridge pulled out on November 20. Howard Tuttle joined us at our loft we rented on Lake Street.” From 1889 to 1890, Moses & Louderback placed a card in J. R. Clancy’s stage hardware catalogue, advertising “Contractors for all stage appliances. Estimate furnished to all parts of the world,” with their offices at offices at 22 Chamber of Commerce. They also worked as subcontractors for Sosman & Landis at this time too, as work poured in from all over the country.
In 1887 when Tuttle was brought on board, Moses recorded that “Tuttle did most of the big melodrama of ‘Tank Drama.’ Lights and shadows.” Tank shows were productions that used actual water on stage. On Dec. 25, 1887, “The Chicago Tribune” reported, “The tank drama marks the entrance of the plumber into literature and for the time being has eclipsed the carpenter in the public estimation. To see the stage turned into a big tub of water, across which boats are rowed, is enough to awaken the enthusiasm of the gallery gods who, perhaps never before in their lives showed a preference for the element in question” (page 19).
Moses’ next mention of Tuttle in his memoirs was from 1889. The two worked out west from the fall of 1889 until the spring of 1890, painting scenery in California, Oregon and Washington. Their first project was in Riverside, California. Moses wrote, “Found Howard Tuttle in Riverside. He had come on to help me as I had too much to do. We worked night and day, and every evening a number of ladies would drop in from the hotel to watch us. They were very interesting – very refined – mostly from the Eastern cities. It was a pleasure to meet them…We had many experiences in and around Riverside, too numerous to mention in detail. We completed the work December 30th.”
The two then headed up the coast to Tacoma, Washington, stopping by San Francisco for several days and then Portland. Of their stay in San Francisco, Moses wrote, “Tuttle liked the city. Had a pleasant visit with Bill Porter, artist of Tivoli Theatre. We then went to Tacoma for several days. Got some extra work to do, after I had Portland underway.”
By Feb. 8, 1890, Moses and Tuttle completed the scenery for the Tacoma Theatre, as well as a small project for the Arion Hall in Portland, Oregon. Heading south to Corvallis, Oregon, they painted scenery for a small hall. Of their hotel in Corvallis, Moses wrote, “One day Tuttle and I took all the candy at the table (as no one ever ate it) and gave it to the children on the street. We found the dishes filled up again at night.” After finishing their work in Tacoma, they headed east to Spokane, Washington.
Moses, Tuttle and Loitz were credited with the scenery for the Grand Opera House in Spokane. On April 19, 1890, the “Spokane Daily Chronicle” reported, “The drop curtain and scenery for the new Spokane Grand Opera House have been completed by artists Thomas G. Moses and Howard Tuttle have returned to Chicago. Stage carpenter Joseph Wikoff and Edward Loitz, the representative of the scene painting firm Sosman & Landis of Chicago are now in charge of the stage and scenery” (page 5). On Sept. 16, 1890, the “Spokane Falls Review” reported, The entire work on stage has been executed by Messrs. Sosman & Landis of Chicago, under the supervision of Thomas G. Moses, assisted by Howard Tuttle and Edward Loitz. The work throughout has been artistically designed and admirably drawn. The coloring, shading and tints are clearly and strongly brought out and will give a realistic effect when placed in position” (page 7).
Moses and Tuttle returned to Chicago for a short respite before heading out on the road again. In June 1890 Moses joined Tuttle in Evansville, Indiana, for another project at the Grand Opera House. This may have been one of their last projects together, as by 1891, Tuttle moved to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where he established his own studio.
On Jan. 13, 1892, Tuttle was among the scenic artists present at the organization of the American Society of Scene Painters. Keep in mind that the executive staff was Richard Marston, president; Henry E. Hoyt, Harley Merry and Ernest Albert, vice-presidents; Homer F. Emens, treasurer; and Sydney Chidley, secretary. On June 26, 1892, the “Pittsburgh Press” reported, “the objects of the society are to promote the artistic and practical efficiency of the profession and consolidate as a whole to the dignity of the profession hitherto maintained by the individual artist. Practical reforms in the conduct of professional business are anticipated” (page 7). Other members of the organization included George Becker, Moses Bloom, Harry Byrnes, Sydney Chidley, James Fox, W. Crosbie Gill, Frank King, Richard Marston, Harley Merry, John A. Merry, Thomas G. Moses, Arthur Palmer, Seymour D. Parker, Frank Platzer, W. T. Porter, Adolf T. Reinhold, John Rettig, John W. Rough, Horace N. Smith, Orville L. Story, A. G. Volz, Harry Weed, David W. Weil.
In Milwaukee, Tuttle became associated with the Davidson Opera House. He quickly gained a reputation as Tuttle worked his way across the country. In 1893, he painted scenery for Dolan’s Opera House in Logansport, Indiana. On July 25, 1893, the “Logansport Reporter” published, “Mr. Tuttle is a scenic artist of prominence, who has done work in many of the leading houses of the country and who formerly had a studio of his own in Chicago. His headquarters at present are in Milwaukee. His work here will consist in twelve sets and a drop curtain. He is assisted by Walter Edwards.”
Over the years, Tuttle was credited with painting scenery for a variety of performance venues, including: the La Crosse Theatre (La Crosse, Wisconsin), Grand Opera House (Oshkosh, WI), Normal School (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Opera House (Sheboygan, Wisconsin), Opera House (Portage, Wisconsin), Davidson Theatre (Milwaukee, Wisconsin), the Illinois Theatre (Rock Island, IL), Calumet Theatre (Calumet, MI), Stone’s Theatre (Flint, MI), Turner Opera House (Green Bay, Wisconsin), Odeon Theatre (Marshalltown, Iowa), Opera House (Muscatine, Iowa), Greene’s Opera House (Cedar Rapids, Iowa), Music Hall (Kansas City, Missouri), Opera House (Winona, Minnesota), and the Moline Theatre (Moline, Illinois).
On July 27, 1897, the “Northwestern” newspaper in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, reported, “Howard Tuttle of Davidson Theatre, Milwaukee, working at Oshkosh. The new scene is from the brush of Howard Tuttle, scenic artist, Davidson Theatre, Milwaukee, and will be a masterpiece when completed. Mr. Tuttle is the artist who painted the new scenery for the Normal school and the opera house curtain will be somewhat similar to the one at Normal, only on a larger scale” (page 2). By October 3, 1905, the “Rock Island Argus Report” noted that Tuttle was a scenic artist for the Chamberlain-Kindt circuit.” His reputation continued to increase throughout the country. On July 17, 1909, the “Burlington Hawk-Eye” published a lengthy article about Tuttle entitled “Artist Works Aloft” (page 7). Keep in mind that it was quite a compliment when a newspaper fully described the studio and process of one particular artist. I am including this particular article in its entirety, as it presents a wonderful snapshot of Tuttle at work in 1909.
The article reported, “High up in the air, fifty feet above the stage of the Grand Opera House, is working quietly every day one of the most famous scenic artists in the country – Howard Tuttle, who has probably a wider acquaintance among stage folk than any other man in the profession.
It would baffle the man who is unfamiliar with the strange surroundings back of the big proscenium arch to find his way up on the long, narrow paint bridge where the artist works alone, far from every sound, and just under the roof of the stage. Through the labyrinth of scenery stacked on the floor the explorer wends a tortuous course. Tacks are frequent to avoid butting into the sharp corners of the big sets, and the stranger in a strange land keeps his eyes open, scanning the floor in the semi-darkness to save himself falling into one of the mysterious traps that are part of the stage equipment. Taking a course north, by northwest, the newspaper man is guided by Fred Croft, the property man of the theater, to the flight of winding stairs that lead aloft. There are as many crooks and turns in the stairs as there are in a Boston street. After plunging and groping for what seems an interminable distance the first board landing is reached that parallels a row of dressing rooms. Up again goes the route, with more twists and turns, and the second landing is reached. It is lighter here and but a few steps away is the paint bridge, extending across the rear of the stage and built close to the back wall.
Far down is dimly seen the floor of the stage through a maze of drops and ropes. The bridge is narrow, but it is protected by a railing, and the place is unlikely any other spot that can be thought of.
Out in the center of the bridge the scenic artist is working. The big paint frames, holding the stretches of canvas, are operated by ropes and pulleys, allowing the artist to move the scene up or down at his will. A score of pans, containing colors of vivid hues, stretch along a shelf at the back of the painter. The scenic artist is working on a landscape, whose garishness bears little resemblance to the scene as it will appear when exposed to the view of an audience seated sixty feet away. Everything is laid on a broad manner. Great splotches of color are smeared onto the canvas to be spread with wide sweeping movements of the brush. The effect at close range is crude, but the artist is taking into account the fact that the scenery is viewed at long range by the audience, and the effect is then entirely different. Every proportion is right, and the whole beauty of the scene is unfolded in the same manner as is the smaller picture hanging on the wall of a gallery.
Mr. Tuttle has been in the business for almost fifty years, but he has retained the enthusiasm of youth and his smile and greeting are just a cheery as those of a boy. He has a son who is following in the steps of the father, and the artist laughed as he told of a letter received the other day from his boy, who is working at one of the large theaters of Chicago. It was brief. and after telling of his progress the lad wound up with these words: “I am succeeding famously and, father, some day you will be working for me.”
The artist paused between his stretches of painting to clean his brushes and talked of interesting incidents of stageland and the players connected with the mysterious region behind the footlights. He has met and known intimately all of the stars of the past and present, and through this acquaintance has amassed a fund of stories.
Mr. Tuttle’s story of the discomfiture of a noted dramatic critic is worth the telling. It happened years ago with Sarah Bernhardt, the great French actress, who was to open in one of the larger cities of the country in La Tosca. Mr. Tuttle was engaged at the time in painting in this same theatre, attended the opening night and by chance was shown to a seat next to the critic – the dean of his profession at that period. The scenic artist and the writer were intimate friends and as the curtain rose on the prologue, both awaited eagerly the advent of the famous player. Other dramatic writers were grouped down front and the theatre was packed to the very doors with fashionable assemblage. Something seemed to be lacking, however, in the performance and it was noticeable at the start that the audience was cold and indifferent. Even the entrance of the French woman, who was perhaps without peer at that time, failed to arouse the expected enthusiasm. The applause was lacking. Not a hand was given, and the curtain dropped at the end of the prologue on a silent house.
The same thing was repeated at the end of the first act, and again at the conclusion of the second and third acts.
The dramatic writer before the opening of the play had entered a discussion with his friend, the scenic artist, as to how the audience would receive the French players, holding that the lack of understanding of the foreign language on the part of the listeners would not be a bar to the appreciation of the wonderful acting of Madam Bernhardt and her support. “They will understand the art, the great intelligence of the players and will, therefore, quickly absorb the meaning of the story,” insisted the writer.
“Wait and we shall see, “returned the painter.
As the play dragged its weary length with no response from the audience the dramatic critic grew restive, and it was then that Mr. Tuttle sprang his great coup that started the man of the press.
“If this is really Bernhardt, the actress is worth $5,000 a week,” Tuttle whispered to his friend, “but if it is an understudy, she is worth but $100 a week.”
The writer looked in amazement at Tuttle and then a great light shown in his eyes. He leaned forward trembling, and said breathlessly: “Tell me what you know, for Heaven’s sake, man, do you mean that it isn’t?”
Tuttle smiled and the writer gripped his hand. “If I knew, this would be the greatest scoop of the day; you must know I will never betray you.” Just then the actress was in the midst of the greatest scene of the play. At the conclusion of her lines a pause followed with the stillness of death. Then a roar of applause burst forth that spread from row to row, the shouts of excited Frenchmen being heard above the tumult. The curtain descended and the painter started for the door, followed by the writer who hung to his coat. “Tell me what you know; I must have the truth,” implored the writer. “Don’t you see what it means?”
Tuttle turned a smiling face toward his friend and said”: “You will have to guess,” and disappeared in the crowd. The writer’s paper contained but a short review of the play that next morning, and those who saw it read, but could not understand.”
When Moses hired Tuttle in 1887, he was an ambitious young artist. At the time, Tuttle was twenty-eight years old, living in Chicago. He was married with two small children and a third on the way. Within five years, Tuttle moved to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, established a scenic studio, became a Socialist and entered Wisconsin politics. Tuttle was not just a Socialist, but a Socialist candidate in mayoral and gubernatorial elections. Tuttle’s passions were painting and politics. By 1910, he was even a featured speaker at the Labor Meeting in Waterloo, Iowa. On January 26, 1910, “The Courier” of Waterloo, Iowa, identified Tuttle as one of two speakers at the Labor Meeting held in Carpenter’s Hall, reporting, “Mr. Tuttle has some previous acquaintance with Waterloo people. He is an experienced scenic artist and did the inside work on the Waterloo Theatre. He has gained some political notoriety, having been a candidate for governor of Wisconsin three times on the Socialist ticket, without success, His address last night dealt with the boycott on corporations in general…he advised the working men to be on guard and prepare for a national election, when some progress might be made by the laboring classes toward gaining control of monopolies, which he declared were responsible for the present high prices of everything”.
On April 21, 1910, Tuttle was interviewed in an article in the “Oshkosh Northwestern,” entitled, “Socialism is Coming.” It is unusual to locate the political ideologies of scenic artists beyond a simple entry in voter registration lists. The “Oshkosh Northwestern” article paints a detailed picture of Tuttle’s political views. Here is the article in its entirety:
“Howard Tuttle, the famous scenic artist and expert authority on the matter of interior theatre arrangement and design, was interviewed today by a Northwestern’ reported and he talked on the subjects of Milwaukee’s new administration; Social Democracy in general; running for office; “Appeal to Reason;” theatre decoration and various other topics. To those who enjoy Mr. Tuttle’s friendship, whatever he says is of interest. He is a man of great sincerity. His present business in Oshkosh is to go over preliminary plans with Manager J. E. Williams of the Grand Opera House for the extensive remodeling of the interior of that playhouse. Mr. Tuttle’s home and studio are at Milwaukee, but he is engaged in many of the leading cities of the country. “Milwaukee is going to get along all right,”: Mr. Tuttle said as he laughed in response to the query. “Don’t worry about that. Everything will be done for the best of this city. No, I didn’t see the headlines in Chicago papers yesterday, but I am not surprised that Chicago is interested. They will all take notice of Milwaukee. SOCIALISM TO SPREAD“ Was I surprised at the election results? Why no. I knew that socialism was to win. And its victories are not to be confined. We’re going to spread out and gain a voice in the administration of the great American cities. We’re growing stronger here in the Fox River valley, and the time is not far off when socialism will be a direct power in Oshkosh and neighboring cities. There’s nothing to fear. Milwaukee will prove that that. “And in Chicago, in that great American city we are pushing upward, and we will soon take hold of affairs there, and God, how Chicago needs it!” continued the pioneer artist, feelingly. Twelve years ago, Mr. Tuttle became a believer in the doctrines of so-called socialism. As he has confided to his friends, his business suffered for his faith. In his own words: “When it was known that I had become a socialist, business was withheld from me. I was punished by the interests in many ways. I had to fight to live, where once I had given so much. But it is always the way. When man takes up a principal against which so many are prejudiced, he must be prepared to sacrifice much. During several of the earlier campaigns of socialism, Mr. Tuttle was put up as the candidate for mayor of Milwaukee and for governor of the states. “We were beaten at first,” he says, “but socialism was bound to win, as it has so splendidly done in Milwaukee.” WORKER’S GET NOTHING The Appeal to Reason was lauded by Mr. Tuttle. “That,” he said is the biggest little paper in America. It cost the paper $20,000 to defend itself against rascally brought to oppose it. Let me tell you, Fred Warren, the editor, was sentenced to jail for six months on a lot of trumped-up charges, and the high officials have tried hard to keep the paper out of the mails. But they could not do this. “The paper charged Theodore Roosevelt with taking part in the ‘Alton steal,’ along with Harriman, and it drove Roosevelt out of the country. It went after the supreme court, and it drove Judge Grosscup out of the country – to Africa also. Judge Grosscup – he is the man who set aside that $29,000 fine on Standard Oil company. The Socialist paper charged that Grosscup was a rascal, and he could not face the charges. Socialism is not afraid to tell the truth. When they begin to try and down the Socialist paper it had less than 300,000 circulation, and now has over 400,000. The paper is printed at Girard, Kan. It has made a first-class post office of a country in a post office there. “And the Girard postmaster, who is a figurehead, so to speak, draws a salary to which he is entitled. The real workers get nothing for building up Girard. But, do you know, it’s always that way, and we can’t avoid it. Figureheads get everything, but the actual workers get little or nothing. NO FEAR OF LAWS “Trusts don’t give a damn for laws. If they need a law, they make it. Some of the judges don’t have the slightest show if they don’t do what is wanted by those who put them where they are. Sometimes I have heard it said, ‘It’s a wonder some of our big looters and grafters haven’t stolen the White house.’ “What made the Socialists succeed in Milwaukee? The hard work of a half dozen men. A half dozen or so started the party there twelve years ago, and they shape its destinies. The Socialists are ruled by a central committee, which meets regularly. When an alderman is elected by the Socialists, he does not become independent immediately after election like a Republican or Democratic alderman. On the other hand, he is directed by the central committee to do thus or thus for public good. Refusing, he is read out by the party. That fate fell to Mayor Born of Sheboygan, who tried to play politics with Republicans and Democrats. the Socialists dropped him. “ the Milwaukeean said. “The spread of Socialism has started the corporations to consider the commission form of government. They offer that to placate the Socialists. And Mr. Tuttle went on to tell in what manner commission government is opposed to the ideals of democracy which were put into effect when the colonists in 1776 threw off the government’s kings and commissioners. Commission government would make it impossible for a young party, like the Socialists, to do anything, he said. It makes for one big political despot, he asserted. “And back of a big political power,” he said,” you will always find an industrial despot.”
Until his passing in 1925, Tuttle continued to work as a scenic artist, but his work received far less coverage. One of his last projects described in any detail was for the Wisconsin Products Exposition in 1923. He painted a panorama to encircle the main arena and exhibit space, measuring 25-feet high by 300-feet long.
Tuttle was found dead by a gunshot to the head, and his death was determined as suicide. Obituary notices were brief, with newspapers suggesting either prolonged illness or insomnia as the cause. Six months before his passing, Tuttle and his daughter had also survived a horrific car crash.
His brief obituary appeared in papers across the country on October 5, 1925. “The Sheboygan Press” reported “Scenic Artist of Repute Ends His Life Today. Milwaukee.- Howard Tuttle, 62, prominently known throughout the United States shot and killed himself in his apartment here today. According to the Coroner Tuttle had been ill for some time. He is survived by a son, Morris and daughter, Hazel, and both are scenic artists.”
Will H. Clifton worked at Sosman & Landis from approximately 1889 until 1905. He is not to be confused with other William Clifton’s who worked as actors and producers during this same time. Clifton was a stage carpenter and stage machinist. His projects for Sosman & Landis included: the Wallace Opera House in Sterling, Illinois (1889), the Washington Opera House in Maysville, Kentucky (1899), the Gennett Theatre in Richmond, Indiana (1899), and the Elks Opera House in Prescott, Arizona (1905).
The earliest mention of Clifton working for Sosman & Landis was in 1889. That year the “Sterling Gazette” reported, “Mr. W. H. Clifton of Sosman & Landis, stage furnishers and scenic artists of Chicago, returned to Chicago this morning after completing his work in the Wallace Opera House. He has been engaged for the past two weeks in fitting up an entirely new outfit of scenes and stage appliances and has done his work well. The Opera House now has, for its size, one of the best furnished stages in the state outside Chicago” (19 April 1889, page 3). On April 3, 1899, “The Sterling Gazette” reported, “The opening of the Wallace Opera House, tomorrow, promises to be one of the great theatrical events in the history of Sterling. The house has been thoroughly renovated and equipped with new and costly scenery, painted by Sosman & Landis, of Chicago, which is being put into place today, under the personal supervision of this celebrated firm of scenic artists.”(page 2). Keep in mind that Sterling was the hometown of Thomas G. Moses, likely the scenic artist who painted the Wallace Opera House scenery.
After completing his work in Sterling, Clifton headed east to Michigan. On May 10, 1889. The “News-Palladium” in Benton Harbor, Michigan, reported, “The scenery for the new opera house arrived from Chicago by boat this morning, and Mr. W. H. Clifton, an expert stage machinist of that city, is here to superintend putting it in position”(page 1).
News-Palladium, 10 May 1889, page 1.
By June 14, 1889, the “News-Palladium” announced the completion of Yore’s Opera House, reporting, “Messrs. Sosman & Landis of Chicago, furnished the scenery and stage fixtures – Will H. Clifton, stage machinist, having been sent here by the firm to superintend the work some four weeks ago. He has just finished up this task of fitting the stage carpets – one green and the other red. The stage is admirably appointed. There are seven compete sets of scenery, namely, Parlor, Kitchen, Open Wood, Garden, Prison, Water View and Street, and all accompanying wings, borders, box scenes, etc., necessary to a first-class theatre. All the doors and windows in scenery are ‘practicable’ instead of being blind, as is usual in small theatres. There are also a number of ‘set’ pieces – set rocks, set water, balustrades, a set house, a pair of garden vases, etc. The drop curtain is a handsome work of art and is unsurpassed in Michigan outside of Detroit and Grand Rapids, the scene being ‘The Hudson River from West Point.’ Size of curtain 42×30 feet. Three traps, stage braces, stage screws and other stage paraphernalia complete Sosman & Landis’ branch of the work, which has been done in first-class shape. The proscenium opening is 36x24feet; depth of stage, 30 feet; 75 feet wide and 33 feet in length, with full set of grooves; flats 18×26; depth beneath stage, a little over 7 feet; sets of grooves, four; two roomy fly galleries. There is a special scenery entrance in the rear and also a private stage entrance. The stage will be brilliantly lighted by two rows of border lights, the footlights and numerous other side lights – electric” (page 3).
There is a gap from 1889 until 1899, when Clifton’s name does not appear in newspapers, yet later sources confirm that he was working for Sosman & Landis at this time. It is possible that all of his work was completed in the main studio and not on the road, however, his name was not included in the Chicago Directory. This is perplexing.
A decade later, Clifton represented the firm at the Washington Opera House in Maysville, Kentucky. After fire destroyed the original opera house in January 1898, plans were implemented for its immediate replacement. The second Washington Opera House opened on February 9, 1899. The Sosman & Landis scenery arrived only a few days before the official opening, causing public concern. On Feb. 6, 1899, the “Public Ledger” reported, “The scenery for the Opera-house arrived Saturday and was immediately started for its proper place on stage. This statement is made so that any misgivings as to the opening Thursday night may be dispelled” (6 Feb. 1899, page 4). On Sunday, February 13, “The Evening Bulletin” reported “Mr. W. H. Clifton, the stage carpenter who put up the scenery at the opera house, left for home in Chicago Sunday” (Maysville, Kentucky, 13 Feb 1899, page 4). Clifton remained in town for all of the opening activities and made sure that everything worked properly, then returned home. Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide for the 1900-1901 season noted that the height of the scenery was 18 feet, with the height to the rigging loft as 66 feet. There were no grooves, suggesting primarily flown scenery.
The same year that Clifton installed the Washington Opera House scenery, he also installed scenery at the Gennett Theatre in Richmond, Indiana. On Dec. 29, 1899 the “Richmond Item” reported, “Last night the Gennett scenery was shown for the first time, under the direction of Mr. Clifton of the Sosman & Landis Co., who has been here putting it up” (Richmond, Indiana, page 4). The Gennett Theatre was built in 1899 at N. 8th Street and N. A Street on the site of the Bradley Theatre which had burned down in 1898.
The last article that I have located connecting Clifton with Sosman & Landis is from 1905. That year Clifton installed scenery in the Elks Theatre in Prescott, Arizona, at 117 East Gurley Street. On January 25, 1905, the “Weekly Journal-Miner” reported, “W. H. Clifton, stage carpenter with Sosman & Landis, of Chicago, yesterday completed the work of putting up the curtain and scenery for the Elks’ Theatre. Mr. Clifton is an experienced workman in this line having been with the above firm nineteen years. He has just four days getting the Elk’s job finished. In conversation with ta Journal Miner representative yesterday he stated that he had never been sent out to do work for the firm in any place where he had enjoyed it so much as this. He thinks Prescott has an ideal climate and he said if he had a job here that would pay him a salary equal to that which he is receiving he would like nothing better than to remain here. In addition to being an expert in the work of putting up stage scenery and curtains Mr. Clifton is a genial and pleasant gentleman whom it is a pleasure to meet” (page 7). On February 1, 1905, the “Weekly Journal-Miner” reported, “W. H. Clifton, stage carpenter for Sosman & Landis of Chicago gave a private matinee yesterday afternoon for the Elks’ theatre which was attended by about forty or fifty people. The entertainment consisted of an exhibition of all the curtains and scenery of the opera house and was given for the purpose of giving the building committee an opportunity to see what they have purchased and to check it up on the list in order to demonstrate that they have received all that they have paid for. The curtains, scenery and all the stage appointments are certainly up to date and quite handsome. Mr. Clifton is an expert also in the manipulating of them. The Elk’s seem to be well pleased with their purchase. The opera house, when completed, will without doubt be one of the finest in this territory, and a few, if any in the southwest will surpass it. There may be larger buildings of the kind but none more complete in its furnishings and all of its appointments.”
I have uncovered very little about Clifton’s personal life, either before or after his association with Sosman & Landis. The earliest listing for Clifton that I have located is in the 1885 Chicago directory; William H. Clifton was listed as a carpenter, likely the same Clifton. That year, he was living with Hal D. (Harry) Clifton at 358 Loomis. The two would continue living together in Chicago until 1888, their home located at 98 Gilpin. Although there were a few gap years, by 1890, the two were still living together, now at 5713 LaSalle. William was again listed as a carpenter, with Harry as a bookkeeper. Harry D. Clifton worked his way up from a clerk to the president at the Union Wallpaper Co. in Chicago, and then switched careers, becoming an appraiser. In the gap year that William Clinton did not live with Harry in 1889, he was listed as a painter in the Chicago Directory, boarding at 44 Centre. Interestingly, this was the same year that he began working at Sosman & Landis.
Unfortunately, I have yet to locate any birth, death, or marriage records. He also is absent from census records, even after trying to locate him through Harry D. Clifton’s records. I am not suggesting that there weren’t census records listing men named William Clifton, just not the correct Clifton who worked as a carpenter and lived in Chicago from 1889-1905. Much of the problem seems to be that unless Clifton were married, or listed a permanent home, he likely found lodging in whatever town he was working in. Furthermore, if a father, brother, or distant relative were living in Chicago, there may have been no need to rent his own home between 1891-1905, especially if he were working for Sosman & Landis as an installer. All this being said, he may have intentionally remained in the shadows. Then, as now, some people don’t want to be found, whether their reason is marital or legal concerns.
I have located one possible record that suggests Clifton left Sosman & Landis after completing the Elks Theatre in Arizona. In “Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide” for the 1906-1907 and 1907-1908 seasons, W. H. Clifton is listed as the stage carpenter for the Lewis Opera House in Canton, Pennsylvania. It had just reopened after being closed for a season. On May 9, 1905, the “Canton Independent” announced, “Mrs. E. M. Lewis, owner of the Lewis Opera House, will not take out a theater license this year, and the opera house will be closed. The reason for this is the fact that theatrical performances do not draw sufficient crowds to pay the expense, let alone a profit. Mrs. Lewis did a very handsome thing for the town in erecting such an elegant opera house, which in every[articular is superior to those usually found in the larger cities and the fact that it is to be closed will cause great regret” (page 12). Sosman & Landis were already connected with the town, having delivered the scenery for the Rink in 1885 (Canton Independent-Sentinel 3 July 1885, page 1).
Artifacts from the Scenery Collection stored in the Arts Annex of the College of Visual and Performing Arts at Northern Illinois University.
The Scenic Collection includes elements from the settings of 90 operas, with approximately 900 backdrops and borders and more than 2200 framed scenic units. The stage settings illustrate an exceptional range of production styles between 1889 and 1932. In addition to the scenery there are 3 dimensional units including furniture and properties. Furthermore, the collection is supported by an extraordinary archive of production notebooks, property lists, inventories, expense records, performance time sheets, correspondence, original photographs of the sets, selected costumes, and opera stars of the period, ground plans and blueprints, painters elevations and renderings, original costume and set design drawings, and 120 exquisitely painted and detailed ¼” scale maquettes of the settings.
Unfortunately, some of the scenery has been damaged since initial documentation. The roof leaks and flooding is a problem due to non-working sump pumps.
