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Part 349: The Albert Pike Consistory in Little Rock, Arkansas – 1896  

Thomas G. Moses takes credit for the 1896, 1902 and 1923 scenery installations for Little Rock, Arkansas. We know this from a 1929 pamphlet advertising Moses’ alliance with Armstrong Studios; it was similar to a resumé, listing his past projects and customers. In it, the 1896 Little Rock scenery was listed as the first of fifty-five Scottish Rite installations supervised by Moses between 1896 and 1929. The 1896 Little Rock collection is not the first Scottish Rite scenery installation in the United States, nor in the first in the Southern Jurisdiction. It was the first Scottish Rite collection under Moses’ lead at Sosman & Landis.

In addition to the fifty-five Scottish Rite scenery installations, Moses also supervised the scenery production for seven Shrines, fourteen Commanderies, and nine M.O.V.P.E.R Grottos. This was solely a list of his Masonic theatre projects, and it didn’t account for any other fraternal or commercial projects. If you factor in Moses’ extensive painting for opera houses, social halls, dramatic stock companies, touring shows, amusement parks, world fair attractions, coliseum shows, charity balls, circus spectacles, theatrical stars and theatrical producers, the range of work completed throughout the course of his career is staggering.

If one also considers the significance of certain productions and installations produced by Moses from 1874 until 1934, his work takes on even greater importance. Many of his shows identify key moments in the development of American Theatre from the late-nineteenth century through early-twentieth century. When looking at the scope and quality of his work, Moses becomes an instrumental figure in the evolution of not only scenic art, but also stage design.

In terms of the Masonic scenery for Little Rock in 1896, Moses had worked on other Masonic projects at Sosman & Landis during the 1880s and 1890s. However, he wasn’t responsible for them, only working along side other artists. I believe that he trained under David Austin Strong, the one that Moses refers to as “the Daddy of Masonic Design.” Little Rock was Moses’ first solo flight as supervising the creation and a delivery of a Masonic collection. Interestingly, the 1896 scenery installation for Little Rock was not the only Scottish Rite scenery collection installed in a Southern Jurisdiction theater that year, another scenery collection was produced Oakland, California.

To provide some historical context for the Little Rock scenery, one must consider that the Scottish Rite in the Northern Jurisdiction had been staging degrees for a few decades. I traced the theatrical interpretation of degree work in the Northern and Southern Jurisdictions for my doctoral dissertation “Shifting Scenes on the Scottish Rite Stage: Designing for Masonic Theatre, 1859-1929” (University of Minnesota, 2009). Although I have uncovered many more examples of early Scottish Rite stages throughout the country, the first examples occurred in the Northern Jurisdiction. Why? In a nutshell, there were rival Supreme Councils, each competing for membership and theatrical performances of the degrees were extremely appealing to the membership. Furthermore, staged degree work was marketed to Blue Lodge Masons as a superior ritual experience, especially in Ohio and Indiana. They were full of visual spectacle and incorporated scenic elements that had a track record of popular appeal. Some of the earliest degree productions included moving panoramas; they depicted the backing for a sea voyage, passing picturesque islands and weathering stormy seas.

During the early experimental period with Scottish Rite scenery, a small stage was often added to an existing lodge room. These areas were not necessarily active performance spaces, but featured scenic illusion, or tableaux, to illustrate a particular event described in the degree. The stage was not always positioned in the East behind the Master’s Chair, as I previously thought. Some were placed in the symbolic West or North. One example was in Winona, Minnesota, during the 1880s, where the Masonic stage included four sets of scenery in the north. This particular location also speaks to another aspect – a lot of theatrical experimentation occurred along the geographical division between the Northern Jurisdiction and the Southern Jurisdiction.

One thing to also constantly keep in mind is that Albert Pike, Grand Commander of the Southern Jurisdiction from 1859-1891, did not approve of the degree work that was produced as melodramas. In other words, he supported historical reenactments for each degree to educate the membership, but not the staged dramatization. His writings suggest that he did not appreciate an elaborate stage show with theatre sets, costumes and lights; in other words, melodramatic interpretations of Masonic lore. Pike condemned the Northern Masonic Jurisdiction’s performance of staged degree productions during in 1882. In his Allocution, Pike stated, “The Rite in this Jurisdiction is a Rite of instruction, and not of scenic pomp and stage-show.” Pike’s condemnation of elaborate degree productions continued, “I can not conceive of a more useless occupation than the arranging and performing of degrees, neither the effect nor the purpose of which is to make men wiser or better, but which are acted as melodramas, to gratify an aesthetic taste and please the imagination, like the pageantry of cardinals and orioles.”

That statement makes it pretty clear that Pike did not envision an audience of Masons watching a Scottish Rite stage show in lieu of the actual degree work. It would be the same as having a Mason attain all of the Scottish Rite degrees on the same day; it was cheating. He specified a timeline for Masons to fully comprehend the teachings of the Scottish Rite. The degrees were to be savored and not rushed through like an assembly line. The theatrical interpretation of a degree was to support the ritual, not replace it. One day to Masonry may be the perfect antithesis of all of Pike’s teachings. I doubt that he intended for men to find a short cut. With a greater understanding that Pike despised the melodramatic staging of each degree, one might see the irony when the Albert Pike Cathedral with a theatre stage for degree work was built just five years after Pike’s death. It just goes to show how appealing degree productions were and how quickly an institutional memory can be erased.

The Valley of Little Rock contracted M. C. Lilley & Co. to plan and construct a theater stage in 1895. M. C. Lilley subcontracts the painted scenery installation (and likely the rigging) to Sosman & Landis. Moses returned to the studio and supervised the painting of this “special work” in 1896. During the 1890s, membership surged throughout the Southern Jurisdiction and the country continued a westward expansion. Other Scottish Rite Valley’s throughout the western region would follow suit –Wichita, Guthrie, McAlester, Salina and others. There were a few keys players in the area that will be discussed tomorrow.

To be continued…

Part 348: Thomas G. Moses’ Return to Sosman & Landis in 1896

By 1896, Thomas G. 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 [Harry] Vincent, who went East where he made a hit. I hustled my unfinished contracts and joined the Sosman and Landis Studios again.” This speaks to Moses’ character as an individual and businessman; helping out those in his employ secure work as he closes the doors on his own business. I wonder how many business owners do that now; thinking about the many employees who show up to work only to see a note on the front door that the business has been closed.

This is the second time that Landis was able to bring Moses back to the studio after branching out on his own. Landis was the salesman after all, yet knew how to handle artists. But there was something more to it when Landis asked, although I am not quite sure of what it was. Maybe he was simply a good salesman, accentuating the future benefits that Moses would receive after joining the studio again. Maybe he acknowledged that there would be problems in any workplace. Regardless, Sosman & Landis offered Moses stability and the opportunity to advance. Whatever it was, Landis’ offer to return was accepted by Moses and he was actively working in the Sosman & Landis annex studio again by late summer of 1896.

Moses would not stay for long, but soon depart to embark on another business venture in New York– Moses & Hamilton. Like the others, it would not last. He returned for the third and final time to Sosman & Landis in 1904. That year, Sosman was the one to ask for Moses’ return; Landis’ failing health caused him to leave the company and Sosman was overwhelmed with administrative activities. I have always thought that Moses returned to help out the Landis family more than Sosman. He would remain quite close with Landis’ son throughout the remainder of his career.

In both 1896 and 1904, Sosman & Landis needed Moses’ help to run one of the two studios. Neither Sosman nor Landis was a young man, even in 1896, and I wonder if there wasn’t a promise made to Moses about his someday running the company. In the following decades, Moses would lament his leaving Moses & Hamilton, as well as New York in 1904. He regretted walking away from and tutelage of Roswell M. Shurtleff, sketching trips in the area, and the Salmagundi Club. Moses continued to miss his friends and the artistic community in New York.

Upon Moses’ return to Sosman & Landis in 1896, he was immediately swamped with work; they needed him desperately to run their annex studio – again. Moses wrote, “I had so much special work to do and it was hard to handle in the Studio. We rented the frames at the Alhambra Theatre and I worked there during the Fall and Winter.”

“Special work,” is repeatedly mentioned in Moses’ typed manuscript, but never defined. My research suggests that “special” work referred to Masonic projects. Moses painted the first scenery collection for Little Rock in 1896, a Sosman & Landis subcontracted project from M. C. Lilley & Co.

It was also the first of three scenery collections for the Albert Pike Consistory in Little Rock. Moses takes direct credit for the 1896, 1902, and 1923 installations. The 1896 Little Rock collection is not the first Scottish Rite scenery installation in the United States, nor in the Southern Jurisdiction. It was the first Scottish Rite collection that Moses took responsibility for at Sosman & Landis Studio. He also listed it as the first of fifty-five Scottish Rite installations that he supervised between 1896 and 1929 on his resumé.

To be continued…

 

Part 347: Thomas G. Moses during the First Half of 1896

Thomas G. Moses continued to financially struggle during the first half of 1896. Scenic art projects included a production of “Mountebank” for Frederick Warde; a production of “Sea King” for J.H. Shunk (Chicago, proprietor of the Calhoun Opera Company); a production of “Santa Maria” for Camille DeArville, “the Queen of comic opera”; a theatre installation in Anderson, Indiana; stock scenery for the Hopkins Theatre in St. Louis, Missouri; and a small project in Toledo.

By early May, Moses traveled to Boston where he painted a production of R. A. Barnet’s “The Merry-go-Round. ” It was a project for Harry Askins. Of the production Moses wrote, “I was fortunate enough to make a hit in Boston. The show was fairly good.” The Boston Post reported the show as “a brilliant burlesque of contemporary local interest by R. A. Barnet, which will be given a colossal spectacular production,” featuring 150 people with 500 costumes (17 May 1896, page 10). The production team for “The Merry-go-Round” included William A. Seymour (stage producer); Thomas G. Moses (scenic artist); Mme, Seidle (costume designer); W. E. McQuinn (Musical Director); Gustave Sohlke (Ballet Master); Joseph Halliday (mechanical effects); and J. G. Estee (Properties), and others.

During his absences from the studio, Moses left Ed Loitz in charge. Loitz was his long-time assistant and friend. In reality, he was Moses’ “right-hand man” for almost every project that he accepted. Whether working at Sosman & Landis or not, Loitz remained loyal to Moses and accompanied him on many adventures. He would still be working with him in 1923. However, in the scenic studio, Loitz was no Moses. When Moses was away, production slowed down. Furthermore, Moses’ stylistic flare was absent from the final product when he was on the road.

As with many studios, one name was on the work, but the painting was competed by many hands. That is one of the significant feature that made the Fort Scott Scottish Rite collection so unique; in 1924, it was solely painted by Moses on site – no big studio crew. In most cases, a Scottish Rite collection was composed of dozens of backdrops in a very limited timeframe, thus necessitating many people simultaneously working on the project. There are very few of these Scottish Rite collections that can solely be attributed to one scenic artist and a stage carpenter. They provide a unique glimpse into the past when individual artists were forced to complete a massive project by themselves. You can tell on certain drops when they were running out of steam.

Other 1896 shows that weren’t recorded in Moses’ typed manuscript included “The Bells.” The Times Herald reported, “Manager [Ira J.] LaMotte has given Mr. Clay Clement a superb scenic production of ‘The Bells,” painted by Thomas G. Moses with costumes by Schoultz & Co., so that a complete production in every detail can be expected” (7 Nov. 1896, page 7). Moses also painted the scenery for “The New Dominion” that toured with “The Bells.” The St. Louis Post – Dispatch commented that both plays were painted “from the brush of well-known scenic artist, Thomas G. Moses” (31 August 1896, page 2). The St. Joseph Herald reported “The company carries a car load of scenery from the brush of Thomas G. Moses of Chicago” (St. Joseph, Missouri, 29 August 1896, page 3)

Moses also painted another “Ben-Hur” set in 1896. A Tennessee newspaper article described how the Women’s Board of the Tennessee Centennial were preparing for the production of the grand spectacular at the Vendome (The Tennessean, Nashville, 10 May 1896, page 9). The article reported, “The scenery used is from the brush of the celebrated scenic artist, Thomas G. Moses, of the Schiller Theatre, Chicago, and the subject of the play itself offers spectacular effects the best opportunity of any amateur production ever had in Nashville.”

The description of this particular production is especially delightful, as it provided a sense of Moses’ designs:

“The play will begin in the lonely desert where the Magi meet, Joseph and Mary will appear at the Joppa Gate, and the Wise Men will arrive at the Damascus Gate in search of him who is born King of the Jews. The appearance of these men before Herod and all the Bible story will be vividly presented.

The scenes will again shift, and Ben Hur will be introduced in all the beauty and strength of his youth. The succeeding scenes will carry him through the thrilling experiences of the tale, from the home of happy companionship to the sad position of a galley slave.

The famous chariot race will be introduced, and this part is almost unexcelled in scenic pantomime. The reuniting of the separated families will be shown, ending with the dramatic farewell to Iras. The production will close with a beautiful transformation scene, Iras’ Dream of the Nile. In this closing view is represented $10,000 worth of scenery and costumes, and taken together with the many pretty faces of Nashville’s society girls, it will be the most gorgeous spectacle to gaze upon.”

Although the amount of scenery produced by Moses and his crew during the first half of 1896 seems somewhat staggering, it was simply not enough for him to survive on his own. Sosman & Landis had been keeping a watchful eye on their former employee and decided to approach him that July. They were still short one man and Moses was now desperate. It seemed to be a good time to bring him back on board for a reasonable price.

To be continued…

Part 346: Thomas G. Moses and Walter M. Dewey

The year 1895 closed without any fanfare or high profits for Thomas G. Moses. He wrote that 1896 “opened not any too good for me.” He had a difficult time keeping his studio warm enough to paint, commenting, “The studio space was just too large, so I leased a portion to a laundry company, which cut my rent I half – a great help.” It was a difficult time for Moses and he knew that he was failing; managing on his own might not be the answer.

Into the first half of 1896, Moses was still struggling with managing his studio, securing contracts and retaining a crew. It was too much work for one person, but he stayed connected and continued to support his colleagues. Regardless of his own troubles, Moses was always available to help a fellow artist and friend. He exhibited some artwork with other “leading artists of Chicago” in a charity event during February. The art exhibition of watercolors, pastels, and oils was held on the evenings of Feb. 3 and 4, at 8 o’clock, in the rooms of the Y.M.C.A, No. 542 West Monroe Street. It was a benefit was for Walter M. Dewey.

The outpouring of support was significant. The Chicago Tribune reported, “The friends of Walter M. Dewey, a clever young Chicago artist, have been grieved to learn recently he has been sick for several weeks and it has been necessary to remove him to a hospital out of the city” (2 February 1896, page 20). He had been seriously ill for six weeks, to be exact. The article continued, “His fellow artists, in their sympathy for Mr. Dewey and his family have arranged an exhibition and sale of paintings for his benefit.”

Participating artists and their works included John H. Vanderpoel, head, in oil; F. C. Peyraud, “Autumn,” oil; Fred B. McGreer, landscape, water color; Charles Edward Boutwood [Boulwood], head, watercolor; Charles A. Corwin, landscape, pastel; Pauline A. Dohn, head, oil; T. O. Fraenkel, “Mackinac,” water color; William Schmedtgen [Schmeddtgen], “A Blind,” water color; Svend Svendson, “Autumn,” water color; William Clusman, sketch, water color; George E. Colby, “Moonrise,” water color; Albert Olson [Olsen], “Crystal Lake, Autumn,” water color; E. A. Burbank, “Charcoal Darky,” watercolor; Thomas G. Moses, “Interior Wood,” water color; Harry Vincent, sketch water color; William Horton, sketch, water color; and J. E. Colburn. In addition there were to be twenty canvases by Walter M. Dewey. Vanderpoel and Wiliam W. Vernon were in charge of the sale.

Dewey was a student at the Art Institute in Chicago and a member of the Chicago Society of Artists, who exhibited a few years earlier with fellow artists that included Walter Burridge, Hardesty Maratta, Ernest Albert, Oliver D. Grover, and others.

Dewey’s cause was not the first to be supported by his fellow artists. On January 17, 1894, the Chicago Tribune advertised that a “Charity Sale” of pictures had begun (page 8). A ‘charity sale’ of water colors and oil paintings held in the rooms of the Chicago Society of Artists, on the top floor of the Anthenæum Building. It continued ten days and the proceeds were turned over to the Central Relief Association for the benefit of the needy. Many of those who supported Dewey in 1895, had previously exhibited in the “Charity Sale,” including Burridge, Marratta, Vincent, Peyraud, Clusman, Schmedtgen, Corwin, Svendsen, Vanderpoel, and many others. Dewey had also exhibited with the group. It was natural that during his time of need, he was also supported.

I can’t help but thing back to the Scene Painter’s Show of 1885. It signaled the beginning of an era; a period that one could consider a golden age of scenic artists in Chicago that meshed perfectly with their fine art activities. Both theatre and fine art were extensions of these remarkable men who thought beyond their own individual artwork. They were part of a community that not only supported each other, but also supported a variety of causes for the common good of mankind. They were contributing toward a beautiful future and experiencing the world of art together. But there was an exciting undercurrent that was spreading throughout exhibition halls and entertainment venues. The theatrical world was starting to change at a rapid-fire pace. Those who could blend what was already popular with a new technology would soar ahead of the competition.

To be continued…

Part 345: Albert B. Mason, Scenic Artist

The death of Forest Seabury made me search for other scenic artists that passed way in 1895. Their departure signaled the beginning of a transitional period, as younger artists rose to prominence across the country. By now, Thomas G. Moses represented the old guard, even though he was just beginning to enter his middle aged years. We were beginning a key period in the history of American scenic art and stage design. Between 1885 and 1905, the entertainment industry would split and evolve in many different directions. Those in charge guided the future division of theatrical trades as the roles of theatre technicians became more defined.

In 1895, one of the top scenic artists at Sosman & Landis was murdered. This event was not only tragic, but also accentuated the absence of Thomas G. Moses from the studio. On February 14, the Chicago Tribune reported, “Albert B. Mason, scenic artist lies dead at his home, No. 130 West Van Buren street, the result of wounds received Saturday night in a fight with two thugs who assaulted and tried to rob him. He went to the drug store at 9 o’clock for some medicine. On the way home when crossing the alley between Jefferson and Desplaines streets he was jumped on by the thieves and knocked down.” The article commented that although Mason was a “big strong man” and “made a brave fight,” his assailants got the better of him. He pulled out his gun to scare them off, but they wrestled the weapon away; one held his arms and the other pounded him over the head with it until he fell unconscious to the ground. Later while stunned and bleeding, Mason still made it home to his wife. Two days later he expired at 11 o’clock in the morning. The post-mortem examination revealed that a large artery in the head had been severed and the skull fractured.

The last line of the article connected Mason to the Sosman & Landis studio: “Albert B. Mason had been painting theatrical scenery for the firm Sosman & Landis, No. 236 South Clinton street, seven or eight years and was one of their best artists. He leaves a widow and son.” This was one more name to add to the group of artists who worked for Sosman & Landis during their early years. Although, Moses was not working for Sosman & Landis at the time, he would have certainly known Mason, as their work for the studio would have crossed over.

The tragic tale of Mason continued, but Mason’s assailants were eventually apprehended after an eyewitness account and positive identification of the two. The policemen caught the thieves named Cornelius O’Brien and Harry “Butch” Lyons, noted as “two of the toughest of many tough footpads that infest South Clinton, Desplaines, and Halsted street districts.” O’ Brien received a twenty-year sentence and O’Brien was sentenced to death by hanging.

What this also provides is a little insight into the type of neighborhood where Sosman & Landis had their studio on Clinton Street. Noted as 236 South Clinton Street, the address was actually 236-238 S. Clinton Street. When many of the Chicago Streets were renumbered, the final Sosman & Landis Studio address would become 417-419 S. Clinton Street.

In 1896, Moses returned to work for Sosman & Landis again. They would open another annex studio – also located in a rough neighborhood. Moses recorded that the new annex studio was located in the Alhambra Theatre. The Alhambra Theatre was located on State Street and Archer Avenue. It was dedicated on September I, 1890. H. R. Jacobs was the manager and retained management until April, 1897.

Of this studio and its less-than-ideal location, Moses wrote, “It was a long ride to Oak Park and I disliked the theatre. It was a very rough neighborhood – a hangout for all the big crooks.” His words take on a new meaning when considering the fate of Albert B. Mason near the main studio on Clinton Street.

I thought back to my own late nights when I left a theatre after painting all day. I was always alone, walking to my car with my senses on “high alert” for any potential danger. For many, it is the simple “knowing that there may be danger ahead” that is dreaded at the end to every day. It is the hoping that you will not meet anyone, and the knowing that if you do to not to make eye contact. It is the understanding that you may not make it home alive if you chance upon the wrong stranger. Moses was fortunate to always make it home. Mason was not. His carrying a weapon for self-defense hadn’t really made a difference in the end.

To be continued…

 Part 344: Forest Seabury, Scenic Artist

There were a few newspaper articles from 1895 that caught my attention, as they concerned scenic artists. The scenic artist S. Forest Seabury (Sr.) died at the Grand Opera House on July 17, 1895, in Oakland, California. Newspapers reported that the celebrated artist fell dead after expressing to the stage manager, “You drop is finished, and it’s a wonder” (The San Francisco Call, 18 July, 1895, page 4). Seabury had just placed his brush in a pot of water before he uttered his final words, having just completed the drop curtain for Morosco’s Opera house. He then turned to speak to the manager, Tom Andrews. It was 4:35 PM when Seabury took a few steps toward the washstand, staggered and fell, before taking his last breath. Only a few minutes earlier, Seabury’s son had shouted up from the stage floor, inquiring about his father’s health. After hearing a positive response from the flies, his son left.

Seabury was a busy man and had completed another drop curtain for the Grand Opera House the previous week. For the opera, his 38’-0” x 40’-0” painting depicted a colossal American flag against a cloudy sky; it was received with applause (San Francisco Call, 5 July 1895, page 7). Dr. Barrett conducted an autopsy on the body and determined that the cause of death was heart disease. Seabury was only forty-four years old. His young age reminded of another scenic artist from Chicago – Lou Malmsha. Malmsha has passed away at the age of 35. A talented scenic artist, he was at the top of his career when he suffered a similar fate after work.

Seabury’s obituary reported that his funeral was attended by many members from both the Actor’s Association of America and the Theatrical Mechanic’s Association of Oakland. Like many other scenic artists, Seabury was also a stage mechanic, having the ability to engineer and create all of the scenic effects for a production. At Seabury’s funeral, floral arrangements sent from his fellow artists included banners stating, “The Drop is Done,” “The Gates Ajar,” and “The Last Scene of All.”

Seabury was a Pacific Coast artist and decorator whose work was known throughout the region. He had painted drop curtains and decorated prosceniums in all of the principal playhouses in California, Oregon, Washington and Nevada. However he primarily worked in the Oakland area. In 1892 he created a drop curtain, “The Dawn of Spring” for Stockwell’s Theatre in Oakland that the newspaper reported was “a beautiful work of art” (Oakland Tribune 2 July 1892, page 7). During the 1880s, he had been the scenic artist for the Baldwin Theatre in San Francisco. However, he also painted scenery for other venues, such as the Pasadena Opera House (Los Angeles Herald, 28, Oct, 1887, page 12). His obituary commented that one of his best works was a scene of the Golden Gate on a drop curtain in the opera-house in Sonora, Tuolumne country.

Seabury was also a member of the Republican Alliance and presented a decorative banner (12×12) of Harrison and Morton and an artisan at work. “Around the boarder are pictures of flags and other ornamentations. A shield bears the name of the club” (Oakland Tribune, 2 Oct 1888, page 1).

One of Seabury’s major accomplishments was his work for the Kiralfy Bros. He was listed as one of the scenic artists for the 1887 production of “The Black Crook” (Chicago Tribune, 13 March 1887, page 6). The others were Harley Merry, Geo. Bell, Porter Robecchi of Paris, and Magnani. This interesting group of artists was credited with creating “all new scenery” for a production that was “exactly as reproduced in January at Niblo’s Garden.” The show opened at McVicker’s Theatre in Chicago. The scenery for the production was estimated at $15,000. (The Times, Philadelphia, 19 Nov 1887, page 3). Advertisements reported that there were two entire carloads of scenery for the production “with all its glittering grandeur” (The Ottawa Journal, 21 May 1887, page 1).

Not everything was perfect in Seabury’s world. Two months before his death, Seabury’s second wife committed suicide by taking carbolic acid. The San Francisco Chronicle reported, “She was found dead in her room by her husband. A photograph of him was clasped to her breast” (18 July 1895, page 8). There had been trouble in the Seabury family and for some time the wife and husband had been separated. Mrs. Mary Jane Seabury of Massachusetts (second wife) was found dead in her bed at 917 Larkin Street. The autopsy by Dr. J. S. Barrett showed that her death resulted from carbolic-acid poisoning. The article noted that a dose of carbolic acid causes great pain and those who swallow it involuntarily will groan in their agony or scream, but no sound was heard from her room; her husband did not occupy the same apartment, yet he was the one first one on the scene.

When discovered, she was clutching a photograph of her husband, a letter written to him from another woman (from 1891) and a suicide note. Her written request stated, “Make sure that I am dead before burying me, as I do not want to be buried alive.” She was 24 years old and had only been married to Seabury for three years.

Seabury had two sons, Arthur and Forest Jr., from his first marriage. Both sons also worked at Morosco’s Grand Opera House as scenic artists and actors at the time of his death. There is more to the Seabury story as newspapers covered the continued troubles of the Seabury family. His second son Arthur was found in a mentally unhealthy state and returned to his mother in 1907. His mother’s concern increased as she observed Arthur did not sleep well. Then he started to explain that he had visited hell, frequently accosting people and stating, “How do you do. I’ve seen you in hell.” His mother eventually bought her son brought before Judge Hall to determine his sanity. The physicians decided he was on the verge of insanity and he was sent to the Stockton.

Of Arthur the paper reported ,“Young Seabury was with his father most of the time and was considerable as an artist himself. He worked on the paint-frames and filled in many a fine piece of artistic work from his father’s brush” (Oakland Tribune 19 April 1897, page 2). But the story is a little more complicated as some articles suggested that Seabury never remarried and only had one wife.

Throughout all, his second son and namesake, Forest Jr., continued to paint and act, doing fairly well in the theatre profession.

To be continued…

 Part 343: “The Artist in the Flies,” Second Half

This is the second part of an article, “Artist in the Flies,” started yesterday from the New York Tribune (4 Aug 1895, page 14).

“[The scenic artist] is often interrupted in his work, when rehearsals are going on, for while the frame is being lowered it makes a horrible noise, which naturally interferes with the work of the actors.

“Oh, say, up there, won’t you give us a chance to hear ourselves think?” or “Say, just wait a few minutes until se get through the scene and then you can make all the noise you want,” are common cries. Sometimes the assistant, whose work is to run the windlass, pays no attention to the calls from below, and goes right ahead, making all the noise possible, until the stage manager in despair mounts the paint bridge and in a forcible language commands the young man to desist; this he does after growling and grumbling about the delay.

After the scenery has been painted it goes back into the hands of the stage carpenter and his men. In a wood scene or a rural scene there is a great deal of cutting to be done. The leaves and branches are cut away from the canvas which has not been painted.

After the properties have been made – they are usually of papier-mâché – they are sent up to the paint bridge to be touched up with a coat of paint. The stage cloths or carpets are also painted by the artist. The getting up of the scenery is the most expensive part of a production. It is no wonder that a manager is leery of putting on a new piece. The great cost incurred before the curtain goes up makes him hesitate about engaging in a venture which the audience may find dull.

The most expensive scene drop is one which requires a number of faces painted on it, to represent an audience, for instance. Here the services of a portrait painter are generally called in, and each face is actually a likeness. Of course the faces in the background are not as perfect as the front ones. After one season of wear and tear in traveling, the scenery is not a thing of beauty. It is hardly worth storage room. When a piece is to be played a second season, the scenery goes back into the hands of the scenic artist and stage carpenter to be patched up and retouched. A great deal of this old scenery is bought by small out-of-town managers, to whom scenery is only a second consideration. In one-night towns it is often a puzzle to find out “where the actors are at.” The backdrop represents a French chateau and the house in the foreground is an English Inn. The properties used “have nothing to do with the case,” but they help to fill the stage.

It is a small wonder that scenery is in such a tattered condition when it returns after the season is over. The carting of scenery is an important to the stage carpenter, who travels with the company, as the box office receipts are to the treasurer.

In New-York may be found wagons especially built for the transportation of scenery, but few other cities have these wagons.

When “Rob Roy” was on its travels last spring, the scenery was being carried from the theatre to the railroad station. The wagons were not long enough to carry scenery properly, and the tower of Sterling Castle hung way out of the back of the wagon and touched the ground. This almost drove the stage carpenter to despair, until a happy idea struck him. He borrowed a wheelbarrow, and then hired a sturdy boy to follow the wagon, with the top of the tower resting in the barrow. This scheme worked beautifully for a few blocks, until the boy got tired. He demanded his pay, and said the work was too hard. He could not be induced to resume his journey. Again the stage carpenter put on his thinking cap. “Come, boys, let’s have a drink,” he said to his employees. All retired to the nearest barroom, and when they returned each and every many was perfectly willing to carry the tower on his shoulders down to the train.

All of the big railroads have cars especially adapted for the transportation of scenery. Francis Wilson rents a whole house for the storage of his scenery. He has complete sets with properties, costumes, etc., of all his operas from “The Oolah,” his first production, to the “Devils’ Deputy.” In case of accident by fire or railroad disaster, he will not be obliged to close his season, but can resume it after a few weeks of rehearsals, of one of his former operas. The final resting-place of all the beautiful grottos, ballrooms, etc., is the furnace in the boiler-room down in the cellar of the theatre.”

 

To be continued…

 

Part 342: “The Artist in the Flies,” First Half

Throughout my research, I have encountered a series of delightful articles. They were not only enlightening, but also changed my understanding of theatre history and the late-nineteenth-century scenic art. In many cases, I transcribed these unknown bits of writing and posted them online. I believe that might have worth to other theatre historians and practitioners.

I discovered “The Artist in the Flies” after reading “Stage English” (installment #310) and tucked it away for the time that I would cover the year of 1895 (4 Aug 1895, page 14). The article really resonated with me and reminded me of Thomas G. Moses. This story is a slightly different presentation from the somber depiction of the artistic process described in yesterday’s post. This will be posted in two sections due to the length. This is a wonderful article to read before continuing with the activities of Thomas G. Moses in 1894-1895. Enjoy!

“No Summer Vacation for Him. He is turning out castles, forests, and interiors by the hundred yards in these warm days.”

“The busiest men connected with the theatrical business at present are the scenic artists and their assistants. Before the artist begins his work, the frames have passed through many hands. To begin with, a number of sewing women are engaged to sew the canvas together, for which they receive a certain amount for each yard. After the canvas has been sewed together, it passes into the hands of the stage carpenter, who has put the frames together. The canvas is stretched taut over the frames, and glued and nailed to the wood. This is a trade itself. When the frames are ready they are put upon an immense frame, which is behind the paint bridge, usually at a great height from the stage, up in the flies, where the different drops may be raised or lowered as needed. The paint bridge stretches across the stage from fly loft to fly loft on either side. Here the artist is away from the madding crowd. The scenery receives a preliminary coat of paint, and when dry is ready for the different colors needed in the scenes.

As a general rule, the artist outlines the different scenes and puts in the most difficult and delicate touches, and then allows his assistants to fill in the rest. He is guided by his model, which is set in a complete stage by itself. One artist in an uptown theatre has a small room in the flies where he builds his models on a small scale, and has a complete electric light apparatus, by which he can judge the effect of the different lights on his models. This is a great help to him in his work. The paint bridge is usually crowded with pots of paints, and the uninitiated would wonder how the artist could move around without sending a few of them on to the stage below.

An amusing accident of this kind happened at the old Standard Theatre before it was burned down. The dressing-rooms of the chorus were on a level with the fly loft, and occasionally the bridge was used by the chorus of people who had to make an entrance on the opposite side of the stage. Instead of going into the cellar under the stage, they took this crossing.

One night one of the girls did not heed the flight of time until she was recalled to her senses by the sound of music, which was her cue to go on stage. She rushed through the fly loft and over the paint bridge, not heeding the paint pots with which it was covered. Away went the young woman in a heap on the floor of the bridge, luckily escaping the fate of two pots of paint, which fell to the stage below, completely deluging a “super” who was awaiting his cue to go on the stage. The accident was seen be some of the gallery urchins, who set up a shout of delight. After the accident the paint bridge was the sacred property of the scenic artist.

To be continued…

Here are some images from a Sosman & Landis collection created in 1898.  It was for the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry stage in Yankton, South Dakota.  The was a “used” scenery collection, originally created in 1898.

For large picture files, join FB Group Dry Pigment.

Part 341: Green Room Gossip From 1895, the Scenic Artist

Thomas G. Moses worked as the scenic artist at Chicago’s Schiller Theatre during 1895. He painted the settings for all of the productions on their paint frames. He also rented the old Waverly Theatre space as he had more work than could be completed at the Schiller.

I understand that it is hard to appreciate the complexity and demands of the painting process at the time that Moses was working, especially as I discuss the many projects that Moses’ was simultaneously completely during the late-nineteenth century.

Below is an informative article about the artistic process and the role of the scenic artist, published in the Times-Picayune (New Orleans, Louisiana) on February 10, 1895 (page 22). Here is a portion of the article from the “Green Room Gossip” section of the Times-Picayune. It provides additional context for Moses’ story as we move forward:

“When a manager has finally decided to produce a new play, his troubles have just begun. One of the first things to demand is the proper pictorial equipment. Just as the editors of illustrated periodicals of to-day send their accepted articles to the artist for illustration, so the theatrical manager puts his play in the hands of the scenic artist. Sometimes periodical illustrations cause the reader to wonder whether the illustrator read the story before he made the drawing or whether the cuts got mixed in the composing-room. The play illustrator is too important a factor in the box-office success to admit of similar mistakes.

[The manager] sometimes employs a scenic artist by contract, but usually the necessary assistant rents the space he needs in the theatre and charges the manager for work done for him, just as he charges outside managers for work done for them. The scenic artist, then, receives the manuscript from the manager, reads it carefully, notes from the authors description of scenes whether the locality is special or general, and where the scenery must be “practical” – with real doors to open, trees which may be climbed, fences that may be jumped- and where it is possible to make it purely representative.

The locality is the first point, naturally. Even if none be mentioned, in these days of photography, it is far more satisfactory to find a real locality which would fit the play, and which would, therefore, be more likely to differ from a thousand and one other scenes which have already been used as backgrounds for other general plays. From photographs or sketches of real bits of scenery, the artist most often draws his ground plans for what he considers a good stage picture suited to the action of the play.

These models are then placed convenient to the eye and hand in his studio, the main feature of which is really the back wall of the theatre, with a great paint bridge running about 25 feet above the stage floor. There is a space about a foot wide between the bridge and the wall, and in the space hangs the paint frame. When the stage carpenter has built the scenes according to the artist’s model, the paint frame is lowered to the stage floor, a piece of scenery is attached to it by means of a narrow ledge at the bottom, drops are tacked on and set pieces fastened at convenient points, then the frame is raised until it is where the artist wants it as he stands upon the bridge. The frame can, or course, be moved up and down, at the painter’s need.

The prime coating of the canvas is made of a mixture composed of whiting, glue and water. The artist has several assistants, many of whom are virtually learning the trade, but in exterior scenes the scenic artist himself usually does all of the painting; in the interiors he makes the finishing touches. Of course the work is done by daylight, and it takes a very skillful worker in colors to know just what the effects the various kinds and degrees of artificial light will have upon the painted scenery.

And yet the scenic artist is not too highly valued from a financial point of view. It takes, usually, six or eight years to attain the necessary skill and an average income of $80 a week is considered very good. From the manager’s point of view there is a difference. The necessary scenery for a play will frequently cost $1500 for the carpenter work and twenty-five hundred dollars for the coloring, without taking into account the sums paid for costumes, properties and the innumerable other accessories to proper play-producing.

Until applause greets him on the momentous “first night” and large audiences greet him for many nights thereafter, the manager, be ever hardened, endures endless anxiety from the minute the new play is chosen. If one proves a failure, he will be out a considerable sum at the best, for critics will know if he attempts to use the same costumes and special properties later on, or if he saves the scenery until it can be worked in other plays, a piece at a time; and critics seldom keep anything to themselves. He may have a new scene painted on the back of the old and save a part of the carpenter’s bill, but this is frequently the best that can be done. With all his risks and frequent failures, the theatrical manager is usually the last one to complain. When a play does not go, he simply pays the piper and tries again.”

To be continued…

 

Part 340: Captive on the Carousel of Time

At the end of 1895, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “I made a total of $46,000.00 for the year. My expenses were very heavy and I had about $3,500.00 for my salary – pretty bad – I needed a good business partner, for I had much to look after.”

Moses knew that he needed someone else to help shoulder the burden of running a studio. That was one of the reasons why Sosman & Landis had done so well for almost two decades. Sosman was in the studio, or painting on location, while Landis focused on sales and negotiating new contracts. Landis marketed a product that Sosman and his crew produced. Moses was trying to do everything by himself. To succeed in the studio business, someone had to solely focus on increasing clientele and securing the jobs. No matter how talented you were, you needed a fantastic sales department and someone to negotiate the final contracts. Moses could not do all of the production and administrative duties by himself. He had tried and failed – twice.

Of 1895, Moses commented “Too much of my time was consumed in making models, and too much of the artists’ time was taken up with preliminaries before a production was actually under way.” He reflected that he funded a lot work completed by carpenters and helpers “always done to start the show on its way, and for which I never received a dollar in return.” He wrote that regardless of the loss, he had continued to make a name for himself. All he needed to do was manage another year, and hopefully he would be back on his feet again.

Moses was financially worse off than two years earlier when he wrote, “My expenses were very heavy this year, and I should have made a big profit, but the best I could do was $6,850.00.” He complained many times that he was not making enough money for the hours that he spent in the studio. Moses realized that there was no incentive for the profits to “trickle down” to any employee, no matter how valuable if he returned to Sosman & Landis too. The scenic artist was at the studio owner’s mercy; when times were plentiful, there was work and when times were slow, salaries were immediately slashed in half. Remember the scenic artists salaries plummeted at the close of the 1893 World Fair as studio owners redirected their massive profits toward other business ventures, or lined their own pockets and journeyed abroad.

I can only imagine Moses’ internal struggle during 1895 as he produced an astounding amount of work – much more than during the world fair – yet received a salary that was significantly smaller. By the beginning of 1896, Moses knew something had to change; he might have to return to Sosman & Landis, in order to keep his head above water. Throughout 1895, Moses continued to lose financial ground and had suffered an unbelievable series of set backs from 1894 throughout 1895. From the paint bridge collapse in Memphis, that injured seven of his crew, to the unpaid duties attached to each production. he was always losing ground

Moses was still  traveling and apart from Ella and the kids. No matter how hard he worked, or how many connections he made, there was never any assurance of a secure future. He made a national name for himself, immediately gained the respect of theatre owners and touring stars, but continued in a downward spiral. At the age of forty, he was growing older and the work wasn’t going to get any easier. He could only look back and envision what should have happened.

“And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return, we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game.”       (The Circle Game, Joni Mitchell)

To be continued…