In 1922 Thomas G. Moses wrote, “Our work has been running fabrics, so much so that I have no notion to make on painting…We that paint, as well as design, frown upon the new fad for fabrics. We trust it will soon die out and we will all return to the old way of painting with up-to-date designs.”
Moses must have sensed that the situation would not change anytime soon, and he would be too old to profit from any future scenic art revival. In hindsight, he was at the wrong age, in the wrong profession, in the wrong location, and at the wrong time. In 1922, Moses was 66 years old. He passed away in1934. In that twelve-year period, his health continued to decline and the stock market crashed, forever putting the death nail in the coffin for many scenic artists at the time. Although Moses’ mind was still sharp, his body was deteriorating, and work was rapidly drying up.
Scenic art techniques continued to shift in the 1920s, as the demand for scenic illusion on stage plummeted, accommodating ever-shifting designs and products. Many scenic artists saw the writing on the wall, and rapidly tried to adapt to the changing times. Moses was not one of them.
In 1923, Moses continued to worry about the decline of painting projects. That year he wrote, “Very little painted scenery for the vaudeville acts is being done, mostly fabrics, and if the wage scale keeps on, I don’t see where the artists are going to find enough painting. They will have to become dressmakers and learn to sew on sateens and velours. A few of the old melodramas would be very welcome.”
In 1923, Sosman & Landis also closed their doors, liquidating all of their assets. Moses and Fred Megan purchased the Sosman & Landis name, but it was too little too late. The live entertainment industry was slowly shifting from painted draperies to ornate textiles. If a scenic artist had not side-stepped into a compatible industry, it was almost too late to make a successful change. Yes, there was still a demand for painted scenery in the motion picture industry, Masonic theaters and other performance venues, but not at the previous scale.
Although a few big painting projects continued to appear on the horizon in the Midwest, the constant stream of opportunities slowed to a trickle. By 1925, Moses and Megan were running the new iteration of Sosman & Landis, constantly searching for work. That year, Moses wrote, “Megan left for the south where we have several good prospects, but I presume they will be chiefly draperies.” John Hanny, a one-time Sosman & Landis scenic artist and founder of Chicago Service Studios, wrote “About this time it was becoming evident that scene-painting, as such, was on its way out. Almost every Artist automatically was becoming a freelancer, picking up odd jobs perhaps a day or two here and there – ‘touch ups’ and the like.” It was the wrong time to own a scenic studio, one specializing in painted illusion.
In an undated letter to Dr. John H. Rothgeb at the University of Texas (c. 1980), Hanny described the decline of painted scenery during the 1920s and 1930s. Hanny began work as a scenic artist at Sosman & Landis in 1906; Moses was the one to hire him that year. By 1920, Hanny and four others established Service Studios of Chicago, a competing firm to their previous employer. Service Studios did not last and quickly became ACME Studios.
Of scenic art after the market crash, Hanny wrote: “The depression of 1929 just about stopped the production of stage scenery – at least in Chicago. Road shows, musicals, etc., if any, were being produced in New York and Hollywood. At this point all the Studios disappeared, but the scene painters just couldn’t disappear and had to become free lancers. There was no such thing as a steady job and the boys were hard put to find a day’s pay. Most of the following 10 years were really tough and 1929 proved to be a big change in our business, in purpose, in design, paint and other materials. As the economy slowly improved – work was to be had on industrial exhibits, Home shows and Auto shows, etc. These were contracted for by such firms as Bromels Detroit, Dramaturgy Cleveland, Wildings Chicago and a few others. These were not Scenic Studios but rather combinations of carpenter and machine shops equipped to turn out booths, revolving turn-tables, electrical effects, and so on. The artwork was done in any available loft or vacant store space. The biggest change to us painters was our paints. Luminal Casene [sic. Luminall Casein] was pretty well established as a very practical and useful medium so, it, and show card color was the norm. So – no more ‘dry’ colors – no more soup bowls or hot size and of course no more paint frames. Drapes, if any were painted on the floor. The house painter’s sash brushes came into use and many of the former ‘tools’ such as snappers, and center-poles and others were no longer needed. The folding 2 ft. brass bound rule gave way to the yard stick.”
This is one of the 73 drops relocated from the Scottish Rite Theatre in Richmond, Virginia, to the Scottish Rite in Tucson, Arizona this month. The backdrop was painted by Toomey & Volland Scenic Studio for the Richmond Scottish Rite. When the Richmond Scottish Rite moved to a new building in 1968, one-third of the scenery collection was placed in storage. This backdrop was rolled and placed in storage, high above the properties room, stage-left.
It has been three decades since I first created an index for the 1931 typed memoirs and scrapbook of Thomas G. Moses. At the time, I promised myself I would track down every little bit of information recorded in its pages. Five years ago, I began to explore each entry, and track down every project, event and personality mentioned by Moses in his writing. I am now at the end of 1922. Moses passed away in 1934, so there are still eleven more years to go. These will be the most difficult period to write about, as Moses begins to lose hope that the world of scenic art will ever return to the old ways. At the end of 1922, Moses wrote a particularly eloquent passage, reflecting on his life and the times; one that provides a glimpse into his soul.
It is long entry, but I am leaving it in its entirety:
“This year has not been a record breaker in any one particular. Nothing very startling. After leaving the west I seemed to let down and lose all ambition to do anything. I have not been able to paint any pictures. Now that I have rolled up another year’s record, I feel in a reminiscent mood, and as I have accomplished one of my desires, the writing of my life’s journey to date, which I sincerely hope will be interest to someone. I will dwell on the last interesting incidents and wonderful inventions of 1800 and the beginning of 1900.
While I have done nothing to assist in the making of history, even in a small way, I feel that I have been very fortunate to have lived in the two centuries, which have been a wonderful advancement in Art, Science, Music and Literature. It seems but a few years ago when we were making dipped candles, and now it is an easy matter to turn on a switch, as we have wonderful electric light. Darius Green jumped from the roof on his father’s barn with a common umbrella as a parachute, and now he could have a wonderful time in an air-ship, which did so much good in our late World’s War. From the clumsy high wheel velocipede to our highspeed motorcycle and the highpower automobile. From Jules Verne’s story of “The Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea” to the real submarine gunboat, that accomplished more than Jules Verne ever dreamt of. From the wood burning locomotives to the hundred-ton engine that will pull the heavy train of loaded freight cars up the steep mountain grades. The old wooden battleships of the rebellion days to the enormous dread-naughts.
From the three-story brick building of 1860 to the modern skyscrapers of twenty and forty-five stories buildings, constructed of steel and fireproof hollow tile, marble and glass. The improvements in the Merchant’s Marine service have been a great expense to the government during the late war, but it has shown the wonderful strides that has been made from the full rigged ships to the steamers of today. The inventors of the past sixty years have given the world more wonderful inventions than any other period. Those that stand out in the limelight are the electric lights, talking machines, telephones, the wireless radio, all descriptions of flying machines, submarines and thousand and one others too numerous to mention.
I am ashamed to say that I have not made any decided approach towards the “Hall of Fame” while I have worked hard all my life, and have accomplished a little, and have had a little glory and honor thrust upon me, but not enough to entitle me to a laurel wreath. I trust my diary will be of some interest to my relatives and brother scenic artists. I feel sure that my work will be of some interest inasmuch as I was compelled to travel over the United States a great deal from Maine to California, which gave me a great chance to meet big people of the dramatic world in the days of real actors and plays of real merit.
In a way, the art of scenic painting has progressed to a higher plane and has been taken up by a number of so-called designers or scenic decorators who have knowledge of the technical part of the art, but simply design and call the artist to carry the design for the completed product. We that paint, as well as design, frown upon the new fad for fabrics. We trust it will soon die out and we will all return to the old way of painting with up-to-date designs. In my youth, I planned and hoped to reach several goals on the road to Fame – they all seemed so far ahead after my years of hard work. I have passed them and in looking back, I realize they were not so hard and that I had picked out some easy ones. But now at sixty-six years of age, I find the big goal is still far ahead, it is the missing link between Mediocrity and Greatness. As I was not endowed with a wonderful amount of ability, it has been a struggle to secure a foothold in the art world. I derive a great deal of pleasure from the mere fact that I am able to draw at all and paint, and have given my impression of the woods, mountains and the restless sea. My art life is behind me, but the flickering light of hope is still in sight and I will strive to reach it while I breath, I hope. Many times, I have nearly given up when something worthwhile has presented itself, which gave me a new lease on life.
I have many artist friends who only need the missing link to reach the apex and place the magic letters “N.A.” to their signatures. They have nearly arrived; so close that it is really pathetic that the Great Honor does not reach them over night, to be followed by a life of success in the art world, which is truly an ideal existence.
I often think of Edward Bellany’s book called “Looking Backward,” as I do a lot of looking backward. There are so many incidents that occurred in the past that will spur me on to better ideas and correct future plans. Many of us are very much criticized when we get to reminiscing, and we are politely requested to come out of it and get our feet on the ground. I have met but very few men or women of sixty years of age or more who are strongly inclined to look backward and exclaim, “it might have been” and live it over again, as to many the past is a sweet story. “The good old days” you will hear them exclaim, as they were back in the “Old Home Town.” No matter how well they have prospered since leaving their old home, there is always that home love that is uppermost in their minds. To the men, the thoughts of the old swimming hole the orchards and vineyards, that all belonged to the small boy. A few have remained behind and continued a business that was started by their father and possibly by their grandfather. I am drifting back to the days when some of the present-day successful artists were working for me and Burridge and we were together and we had Jules Guering with us. He had climbed to the top, within a few years, he was well equipped with money to start and a lot of ability. He has made his home in New York for the past twenty years.
In 1893 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. He went to New York in 1898 and worked for Gates and Morange, then joined the Salmagundi Club. Captured several prizes which boosted him in the art world. Many of his pictures are being reproduced and selling well. He is now in Italy on a sketching trip.
Frank Peyraud, now celebrated as a landscape painter, was with me in 1893. Victor Higgins, now in Taos, New Mexico, another of our boys. Edgar Payne, now in France, was with us only a few years ago. John H. Young was another assistant that made good in scenic painting, but never stuck to the picture end of it as he started to make money in New York and that settled his picture ambitions (if he ever had them very strong). As I look backward over the names of the successful ones, I wonder what I would have done had I been gifted with the same amount of talent.
So it goes on, year after year, and you keep just a little bit ahead of the game, just enough to convince your friends that you are really a good fellow and that you haven’t abused their confidence.
But you are bound to look backwards and wish for the “Land of Beginning Again”: I wish that there were some wonderful place,Called the “Land of Beginning Again”Where all our mistakes and our heartachesAnd all of our poor, selfish grief,Could be dropped like a shabby old coat at the doorAnd never put on again. To be continued…
“The Land of Beginning Again” was also turned into a song, sung by Bing Crosby in “The Bells of St. Mary’s” (1945) – one of my favorites – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99I0yVxVukQ
This is one of the 73 drops relocated from the Scottish Rite Theatre in Richmond, Virginia, to the Scottish Rite in Tucson, Arizona this month. The backdrop was painted by Toomey & Volland Scenic Studio for the Richmond Scottish Rite. From 1968 to 2021 it was rolled and stored above the ceiling in a stage-left properties room.
In 1922 Thomas G. Moses wrote, “Did two pictures for Jim Slipper at Los Angeles to be used in his projecting room; both are transparent.” In 1922, Slipper was running a motion picture supply company. The “1922-1923 Film Book” listed J. Slipper & Co. as a California supply dealer, located at 728 Olive St. Los Angeles.
Moses had known Slipper for quite some time, as Slipper also started out as a scenic artist in Chicago, another Sosman & Landis employee. James “Jim” Slipper was born in 1864, the eldest of four children to John (b. 1830) and Louisa Slipper (b. 1845). Both John and Louisa were born in England and emigrated to the United States in 1832 and 1845, respectively. They married, moved north, and began raising a family in Canada, with John working as shoemaker. The Slippers celebrated the birth of four children: Levi “Guy” (b. 1872), Isadore (b. 1867) and Ida (b. 1868) and James (b. 1864). The Slipper family briefly moved to the United States and were included in the 1870 US Federal Census. That year they were living in Corry, Pennsylvania. It remains unclear when the family returned to Canada, or where Jim Slipper began his career as a scenic artist. His younger brother Guy emigrated from Canada to the United States in between 1889 and 1891; conflicting census reports. However, by 1889 Jim Slipper was living in Chicago, publicly listed as a subscriber to the Chicago World’s Fair (Inter Ocean, 28 Dec. 1889, page 9). By 1900, all of the Slippers were living in Chicago. The 1900 Census listed John and Louisa Slipper living at 178 N. Clark St. with their son Guy, daughter-in-law Minnie, grandson Fred, and daughter Ida. Although Guy initially found employment as a barber and carpenter, he would eventually enter the film industry in California by 1913, working as motion picture operator, salesman, and assistant manager before taking the reins J. Slipper & Co.
In regard to Jim Slipper’s personal life, he married to Nellie M. Curren (b. 1876) in Chicago on Oct. 26, 1898. Unfortunately, their marriage did not last, with the couple divorcing in 1913.Jim’s younger brother Guy was also married to a woman named “Nellie” – Nellie Tuohy Their marriage announcement was listed in the Chicago Chronicle, on Jul. 14, 1896, (page 10). Guy would eventually work with his brother in the motion picture industry, so here is a little context for Jim’s younger brother. Guy’s first marriage did not last long. It was tumultuous start, with the couple appearing in court twice within the first six weeks of their marriage. The first time Mrs. Nellie Slipper charged her husband with assault and battery. Two weeks later, and Mr. Slipper charged his wife with making threats and smashing wedding presents during a honeymoon quarrel (Chicago Chronicle, 2 Sept. 1896, page 9). The marriage soon ended in divorce. By 1899, Guy married his second wife, Minnie. By 1900, Guy, Minnie, and Minnie’s 14-yrs. old son were living with John and Louisa Slipper in a very full house. That marriage was also not destined to last. Buy married for a third time, wedding Florence C. Brown in 1909. The two celebrated the birth of one son, Glenn, and moved to California where Guy began working in the motion picture industry.
Back to Guy’s older brother Jim. In the late 1890s Jim Slipper was working as a scenic artist, likely at Sosman & Landis. It was his move to Detroit and continued work as a scenic artist there that signals a connection to the prominent Chicago scenic studio. In Detroit, Michigan, Slipper became the scenic artist for the Pike Theatre Co. The Pike Theatre Co. was managed by one-time Sosman & Landis secretary and treasurer David H. Hunt. Sosman & Landis initially invested both capital and labor in the endeavor, establishing the theatrical management firm of Sosman, Landis & Hunt. The business endeavor did not last, and eventually Hunt solely managed the Pike Theatre Co.In 1901 the Pike Theatre Co. toured the country under the management of Hunt, including stops in St. Paul, Minneapolis, Washington, Baltimore, and New York. On July 1, 1901, the Minneapolis “Star Tribune” reported that the company traveled with “three carloads of scenery, specially designed and gotten up for the plays to be presented during the summer season in Minneapolis and St. Paul.”
At the time, the company’s scenic artist was Jim Slipper. Slipper was interviewed on July 14, 1901 by the Minneapolis “Star Tribune” (page 4). In his interview Slipper explained the importance of painted scenery. He stated, “People are just commencing to realize that good plays are frequently as dependent upon good scenery as good actors, and it is certainly true that a play without the advantage of scenery would be a burlesque upon the modern methods of management. We are told that Shakespeare’s plays were first produced without scenery, but we are not informed they were great success except as lectures or monologues of rare literary merit. The success of the drama depends upon the illusion it creates; acting is an illusion – that, is, it excites the auditor to tears over a situation which does not exist, or moves to mirth with an incident that is purely imaginary. So, too, is scenery an illusion. We show you a landscape in a production at the Metropolitan which seems to the spectator in front to stretch away for miles, whereas it is but a few rods distance from the eye, and, perhaps, no more than three feet away from the house, or the shrubbery, or the forest which seems so near you. Thus, if the actor deceives your ear with a cry which seems to have it in tones all the attributes of heart-felt sorrow and tragedy, the artist deceives the eye by producing an impression simply by a few touches of the brush and the proper combination of colors something akin to that produced by the omnipotent hand of nature herself as revealed in the far stretching landscape, or as is shown in the more artificial work of the man as applied to the architecture and the furnishing of apartments.” It is no surprise that he would be drawn to the motion picture industry a decade later.
In 1901, Nellie Slipper was also mentioned in the Minneapolis news. The “Star Tribune” reported, “Mrs. James Slipper, who has been visiting her sister, Mrs. O. C. Wood, left for Chicago yesterday en route to Detroit, where she will join her husband, who is with the Pike Theatre company there” (31 August 1901, page 4). The Slipper’s remained in Detroit until at least 1908, with Slipper continuing to work as a scenic artist. The 1908 Detroit Directory listed Slipper as a Detroit artist living at 168 Columbia East. Sometime between 1909 and 1910, the Slippers moved to California. In 1910, Slipper was the owner and manager of San Bernardino’s Temple Theatre, located at 618-620 3rd Ave. The 1910 US Federal Census also listed Slipper as a Theatre owner, living with his wife and a young boarder, a 30-yrs. old theatre musician named Frank Durlise. All three were living at 619 Rex Alley. The Slipper’s marriage lasted only three years after that. Keep in mind that there was a twelve-year age difference between Jim and Nellie. There was only a three-year age difference between Nellie and their musical boarder. I have to wonder if the young musician had anything to do with the Slipper’s divorce. Although I have yet to locate any other information about Nellie after 1913. In 1913, the “San Bernardino News” reported on divorce proceedings between James and Nellie (20 Oct. 1913, page 6).
Regardless, the period between 1910 to 1913 was tumultuous for the couple as Slipper rapidly changed professions. By 1913, his younger brother Guy was also living in San Bernardino, working as a motion picture operator. Jim Slipper was mentioned in the “San Bernardino News” in 1914:“James A. Slipper to Aid Class Play of School. Through the kindness of James Slipper, formerly manager of the Temple Theatre, the high school will have a specially painted set of scenery donated by Mr. Slipper for the class play which will be given next week. Mr. Slipper will paint the scenery to be used in the play and will donate it to the school. For years Mr. Slipper was one of the lading scenic painters of the country and has painted special scenery for all of Chicago’s big theaters. The high school students are delighted at the generosity of Mr. Slipper and also to have scenery in keeping with the play” (30 April 1914, page 5). That year Slipper was also on the committee for the 5th annual orange show in San Bernardino (San Bernardino, 16 July 1914, page 10).
Between 1914 and 1916, Slipper entered the motion picture industry. In 1916, the “San Bernardino News” reported, “James Slipper former owner of the Temple Theatre, was in the city yesterday and today visiting the orange show, Slipper is now secretary and treasurer of an establishment in Los Angeles which deals in picture machines and films” (23 Feb 1916, page 2). He soon established J. Slipper & Co, the Slipper Moving Picture Supply House.
In 1917, “The Moving Picture World,” reported, “James C. Slipper, the head of J. Slipper & Company, motion picture supplies, reports business booming all along the line. Mr. Slipper has recently sold Douglas Jarmuth, manager of the Colonial Theater, 54th and Vermont, two Simplex machines, one G. E. generator, and a Minusa screen; also a Baird machine to J. O. Grant, manager and owner of the Beaumont theater, California. The local Orpheum theater has enrolled itself as a customer of Mr. Slipper with the purchase of a new Powers machine” (The Moving Picture World, Feb. 10, 1917, page 856).
In 1918, the “San Bernardino Country Sun” reported “James Slipper of Los Angeles, formerly manager of the Temple theater and hail-fellow-well-met along the amusement rialto, was in town yesterday. He is now dealing in accessories for moving picture theaters and looks prosperous as always” (28 July 1918, page 2). Slipper spent Thanksgiving that year at the Jewish Orphan Home. “The Los Angeles Times” reported, “James Slipper of the Slipper Moving Picture Supply House, showed in the dining room the fascinating film picture for children, ‘Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp’” (30 Nov. 1918, page 18).
By 1919 J. Slipper & Co. was listed as a Simplex Distributor in “Motion Picture News,” with selling agents in Southern California and Arizona (Motion Picture News, 1919, page 3646). Over the next few years, the location of his studio shifted from 728 S. Olive St. to 838 S. Olive St. and finally 922 S. Olive St. In 1921, Slipper was listed as a “jobber” in an advertisement for Lang-made Rewinders and Reels alongside New York’s United Projector and Film Co. (“Transactions of the Society of Motion Picture Engineers,” 1921).
Slipper was listed in very few US Federal Census reports, and the last census report that provided any information was in 1920. The census that year listed James Slipper as a 56-yers.-old merchant in the Theatre Equipment industry. At the time, he was one of many lodgers living at 655 South Flower Street in Los Angeles. By the time Moses worked for Slipper in 1922, Slipper was residing at 5333 Santa Monica Blvd.From 1924-1928, J. Slipper & Co. continued to operate at S. Olive St., with the address shifting from 838 to 922. I am unsure whether this signified an expansion of operations or not. By 1930, the name changed to J & Co. Slipper Motion Picture Studio and Theatre Supplies. Although still listed at 922 S. Olive, the firm was now managed by Guy Slipper.
I have yet to locate any information about Slipper after the 1920s, so his story ends here.
You have to give Slipper credit with his insight and timing, shifting from a scenic artist to theatre owner and then motion picture supplier. There are those that eagerly embrace new technology and trends, ever adapting their skills to current trends. Then there are others who stubbornly cling to the familiar, wherever they have invested the majority of their energy. 1914 to 1924 was a turning point for many scenic artists. It must have been very difficult at this time for anyone to contemplate a side-step in the entertainment industry, especially for those who had already spent decades perfecting their skills in one particular trade. Slipper, unlike Moses, jumped into the growing film industry, and seemed to never looked back. At this same time, Moses was hoping for a revival of painted illusion; a return of the scenic art that he worked so hard to perfect his entire life. In the twilight of his years, he should have been sitting at the top of the scenic art industry. However, he was still trudging along in the Midwest; his heart was firmly situated in the past. Although Sosman & Landis was still landing contracts in 1922, the majority of the business was theatrical draperies; a topic that I will address tomorrow.
This is one of the 73 drops relocated from the Scottish Rite Theatre in Richmond, Virginia, to the Scottish Rite in Tucson, Arizona this month. The backdrop was painted by Toomey & Volland Scenic Studio for the Richmond Scottish Rite (17’h x 25’w) in 1920. A profile piece was painted to accompany the scene.
In 1922 Thomas G. Moses wrote, “The best contract we had this year outside of Masonic work, was the South Bend Orpheum Theatre for about $8,400.00.” This was certainly a sizable contract, today’s equivalent of $130,237.00. Moses was referring to the Orpheum Circuit’s new Palace Theatre in South Bend, Indiana. Located at 201 North Michigan Street, it is now known as the Morris Civic Auditorium.
This was the second Orpheum Theatre in South Bend, Indiana. South Bend’s first Orpheum Theatre opened in 1910; a vaudeville house with a seating capacity of 1,045. By 1921 plans were in place for a much larger venue, twice the size of the first Orpheum. That year businessmen from Chicago and Indianapolis established the Palace Theatre Corporation to develop the Palace Theatre in South Bend. The Palace Theatre and the adjacent Palais Royale were designed by Chicago architect, J. S. Aroner.
Announcements leading up to the opening referred to the Palace Theatre as “The Future home of Orpheum Theater Vaudeville, unrivaled in its ultra elegance, comfort and convenience.”” (South Bend Tribune 29 Oct. 1922, page 27).
On Nov. 2, 1922, South Bend’s Palace Theatre opened its doors at 7:00 pm on. Announcements described the Palace Theatre as “a colossal playhouse deluxe, dedicated to the patrons of wholesome and diversified amusement” (The South Bend Tribune, 29 Oct 1922, page 27). The Palace Theatre was a combination house, featuring not only live performances, but also photoplays. Photoplays were shown at 1:15, 3:45, 5:00, 7:45 and 10:15, with vaudeville acts at 2:30, 6:45 and 9:00 pm.
In 1928, the Palace Theatre in South Bend and other Orpheum Theaters across the country were included in a souvenir program published by the Keith-Albee-Orpheum Circuit for their newest theater in Memphis, Tennessee (Nov. 19, 1928). Of South Bend’s Palace Theatre, the program noted. “The Palace is the newest and most modern of the three theatres in South Bend operated by the Keith-Albee-Orpheum Circuit. This theatre, which is known as “The Pride of South Bend,” is a large, elaborate and singularly distinctive playhouse seating more than 2,600, with all the latest equipment, including a cooling plant, a playroom for children and many other innovations. It was opened November 2, 1922, supplanting the Orpheum Theatre, where vaudeville had been presented since 1910. Both Vaudeville and feature photoplays are offered on the Palace program. There are matinee and evening performances Monday to Friday, inclusive, and on Saturday and Sunday the performances are contiguous. South Bend is a thriving industrial center and the Palace is one of the most popular theaters on the Keith-Albee-Orpheum Circuit.”
This is one of the 73 drops relocated from the Scottish Rite Theatre in Richmond, Virginia, to the Scottish Rite in Tucson, Arizona this month. The front curtain was painted by Toomey & Volland Scenic Studio for the Richmond Scottish Rite (21’h x 26’w) in 1920.
I return to the life and times of Thomas G. Moses after a four-week break.
In 1922 Thomas G. Moses wrote, “… got a train for Davenport, Iowa. Some fine daylight ride. Met Lester Landis and we set our model up for the Scottish Rite Bodies. No chance to close for some time.” Work had started on the building during the spring of 1921 and was completed in the fall of 1923. The old Masonic temple that housed the Davenport Scottish Rite was located on the corner of Third and Main Streets, built in 1886.
Moses was representing Sosman & Landis Studio, whereas Toomey & Volland delivered the first Scottish Rite scenery to Davenport. In fact, a Toomey & Volland advertisement in “New Age Magazine,” listed the Davenport as one of sixteen Scottish Rites theaters using Toomey & Volland scenery by 1912.
By the spring of 1922, the foundation for the new Masonic Temple was completed, just in time for the Scottish Rite Reunion. There were nearly one-hundred candidates in the Cornerstone-Stone Class, named in recognition of the progress on the new temple. Six months later, the four-day fall reunion with the Zerubbabel Class was also very large. On Jan. 1, 1923, the membership strength of Zarephath consistory was 2,383. The building was dedicated during the fall reunion of 1923.
Moses wrote, “Made several trips to Davenport in hopes of getting the big contract of about $16,000.00, but we were too high.” It was a massive endeavor with scenery for two stages.
The main auditorium was located on the second floor. With a seating capacity of 2,700, it featured a pipe organ and motion picture booth. The main theater was not only intended for public entertainment but also Masonic ceremonial for the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite, Ancient Arabic Order of the Nobles of the Mystic Shrine and the Mystic Order of the Veiled Prophets of the Enchanted Realm (Grotto). There was also a smaller theater on the main floor, known as the Gothic Room. This secondary stage hosted ceremonials for the York Rite and Order of the Eastern Star.
The new Masonic Temple was completed by the fall of 1923. When the building opened, the “Daily Times” announced, “Davenport’s new million-dollar Masonic temple is a monument to the faith and perseverance of a group of Davenport Masons who long ago conceived the idea of sheltering all of the local Masonic lodges and clubs in one large building. It has always been the hope of Davenport Masons that this city should eventually have one of the most beautiful temples in the state, representative of the prominent position occupied by Davenport in Iowa Masonry. More than 10 years ago progressive members of the various lodges began to study out plans whereby their ideal might be worked out, and October 1913, the first committees are said to have been named to consider the project and to report upon its possibilities. Strange enough, the earliest committees on the new temple project agreed upon the site at Seventh and Brady streets as one of the most ideal locations in the city for the new temple. Today the Masons are dedicating their new temple…The temple together with its site cost approximately $1,040,000 and this amount has been raised through subscription by the members of all the Masonic bodies of Davenport, in the form of stock in the New Masonic Temple association” (Nov. 19, 1923, page 9).
On Nov. 19, 1923, “The Daily Times” included a series of articles about the new building. Of the theater, the newspaper reported, “The new Masonic temple has the finest auditorium in the tri-cities and offers exceptional facilities for public concert work and other forms of entertainment. The auditorium is built in the amphitheater style and is illuminated by the largest indirect lighting fixture in the United States……As an auditorium devoted to music and the art of dancing, the Masonic temple will in a large measure take the place of Davenport’s lost ‘legitimate’ theater.”
William J. Klinck was manager for the main auditorium. Of the new theater, Klinck reported, “We have gone to a great deal of additional expense to equip the stage for practical show purposes. Of course, there are over a hundred sets of stuff for the Masonic work alone, but aside from this, we will be able to accommodate any stage attraction, no matter how large. We are not planning any theatrical attractions this season, but for next year I am trying to line up Al Jolson, the Passing Show, the Greenwich Village Follies, the Barrymores and many other high-class attractions. We will have nothing whatever to do with mediocre shows and will not even listen to any proposition that does not include the binging here of performers regarded as real stars.”
Relocating any historic scenery collection from one state to another is always a challenge. Regardless of any information gathered during a preliminary site visit, there are always a few surprises.
The Richmond Scottish Rite scenery collection is composed of 73 drops, dating from 1902 to 1920. Much of the collection was produced by Toomey & Volland Scenic Studio of St. Louis, Missouri, during the first decade of the twentieth century. The original pieces measured approximately 20’h x 34’w. In the 1920s additional scenes were purchased from Toomey & Volland when a new stage was constructed. Interestingly, the size of the original scenery was reduced to 18’h x 26’w; all of the scenery was cut down on the top and at the sides at this time.
In the 1960s, the Richmond Scottish Rite built a new building and stage, but only hung 2/3 of their scenery collection. This meant that 1/3 of the collection went into storage, out of sight, out of mind.
The current stage was much wider than the old one, and I believe that the original intent was to purchase new scenery for the 1968 stage. In the end, the additional stage space on either side of each drop was greatly appreciated during removal and temporary storage prior to shipping!
Many original sandwich battens were replaced with jute webbing and tie line or pipe pockets about twenty-five years ago. Some repair work was done to various scenes too, including the replacement of 1” cotton netting with a ½” plastic version. Sadly, an abundance of hot melt glue was used to attach the plastic netting, irreparably damaging some areas of the painted scenes.
In other cases, spray adhesive was used for attaching fabric patches, white foam, bobbinet and plastic netting. This was a singularly horrible idea, as the spray adhesive partially melted the white foam.
All of these “add-ons” had to be carefully removed before rolling, encapsulating and shipping. Leaving on the foam, plastic netting, or anything else would damage the painted surface. This job was much more than lowering drops from lines, rolling, encapsulating, packing and shipping. However, preserving these beautiful examples of scenic art will be well worth it.
After careful documentation of each drop, the rigging system and stage area, a plan was put in place for the relocation of the Richmond Scottish Rite scenery collection to Tucson, Arizona. It is a 2,228-mile drive from Richmond to Tucson – four days of driving. The major obstacles for this project were both holiday timing and a nationwide health crisis.
For context, the Richmond Scottish Rite was being sold and all of the drops needed to be removed from the building by the evening of Jan. 14, 2021. All other artifacts in the building were being removed mid-December in preparation for the sale. There was not enough time to complete the project before the holidays, so we were left with starting immediately after the New Year. This meant that I would have less than two weeks to complete the project. Due to the holidays, our departure from Minneapolis, Minnesota, was scheduled for Jan. 3, with work commencing on Jan. 5. My crew would consist of two riggers and two scenery handlers. There would be a fifth individual on call for the final loading of the truck. All locals.
As I watched the COVID-19 infection rate spiral out of control across the United States in December, my plans changed. If the building did not have a definitive sale date, I would have postponed the project until late spring or early summer. With the building changing hands Jan. 15, however, I saw no other option to save the scenery and decided to complete the job with only two other people. We would be our own self-contained quarantine bubble. Continued delays in nationwide shipping services and a supply shortage supported this decision. In the end, I would bring all supplies and food with me to make sure everything arrived on site and on time. By the way, the building is still for sale. You cannot imagine my reaction when I noticed the lack of a “sold” sign on the “For Sale” sign upon arrival.
So here is how I approached this particular project.
The two other people that I brought on site were my husband (Andrew Barrett) and Michael Powers. Between the three of us we have 180 years of life experience, as well as a healthy respect for safety protocols. Michael would handle the lines from the fly rail, with Andrew and I handling all of the scenery below.
All of our tools, supplies and food were transported from Minneapolis, Minnesota, to Richmond, Virginia, in a 15’ U-Haul truck. Food and supplies were packed after renting our first U-Haul on Jan. 2, 2021.
Andrew drove the truck and I drove my car. Michael bounced between the two vehicles for company. The intent was to leave the 15’ truck in Richmond, while having my car for transport to and from work. We would then rent a 26’ truck to transport the drops from Richmond to Tucson. The rolled drops measured 20’ long and the top battens measured 25’-5” long. Andrew would then drive the 26’ truck while Michael and I headed home to Minneapolis with half of my tools and some of the food. In Tucson, Andrew could drop off the shipment, return the 26’ rental truck and rent an SUV to transport himself and the other half of my tools home. Everything worked like clockwork in the end. In many ways, one of the most difficult tasks was planning meals to last for all of us from Jan. 3-20, so we did not visit restaurants or shop at grocery stores in another region.
The three of us left early in the morning on Jan 3, spending our first night in Indianapolis, Indiana. Due to weather conditions and other mishaps, our first 9 ½-hrs. driving day became an 11-hour day. Our only stops were gas stations and rest areas. By the evening of Jan. 4, we were unloading in Richmond, after another long day of driving. As planned, we started work on the morning of January 5. We worked five days in a row, took one day off, and worked four more days. We all departed Richmond on the morning of January 15. Our workdays ranged from 9 to 10 ½ hours, with our “day off” being reserved as a possible workday. Thank goodness we did not need to use it. We did not take breaks, and only stopped for a 30-minute lunch. We all felt the pressure form the compressed timeline, and I can’t sit still in general.
The first day went fairly slow, as we unloaded, prepped the space, and assembled the PVC pipes. We were only able to roll three drops that day, but established an efficient system.
One-third of the scenes had never been hung at the current theater, placed into storage in 1968 when the Scottish Rite Masons built their new home and stage. Until our October visit, these scenes were simply tucked away under piles of dust above a properties room, stage left. During my October visit, we lowered and documented these drops. Each rolled drop had both top and bottom battens. Only the original front curtain for the previous stage was missing a top batten.
The scenery that hung above the stage was an entirely different story. Fifteen drops still had their original top battens directly tied into the operating lines. Some of these drops still retained their bottom battens, but the majority had newer pipe pockets sewn onto the fragile fabric. Some drops had a combination of jute webbing and bottom battens. Other drops had both jute webbing and pipe pockets, replacing the original wood battens. As I suspected upon preliminary inspection, all of the seams were failing so the jute and pipe pockets had to be removed prior to transport. I didn’t want to chance their being reused. Due to time constraints, the drops with battens were cut off and the 26’-0” long battens shipped intact. By the way, this is also how the 1902 Little Rock, Arkansas, scenery was also shipped to Pasadena, California, in the 1920s. The original drop fabric was never removed from between the battens.
Historic fabric takes on a unique shape when hanging for decades, unlike rolled drops; it is quirky. Over time, the center and sides of a drop stretch, sometimes to an irreparable point. This means that you can’t line a tube up to the edges of the fabric and start rolling; you have to locate a central seam, position the tube and roll backwards to the edge, then secure the fabric to the tube. This is one of those odd projects where too many hands actually make more work. You want fewer points of contact when rolling. Rolling an historic drop is often time-consuming process, often consisting of rolling, re-rolling, re-positioning and re-rolling. This is often my least favorite part of the process.
I tried a new technique for rolling the drops this time out of sheer necessity; necessity being the mother of invention. Much of it had to do with the tube. Instead of a 20’ long tube, I pieced together two 3” x 10’ PVC pipes with a coupler. The ends also had temporary couplers to help elevate each side from drooping and maintain consistency while rolling. And there was just one person rolling – me.
I crawled along the center, slowly rolling with an open palm, using the coupler as my guide. The three couplers raised the tube ¼” off the ground, allowing the fabric to adjust during rolling. Andrew occasionally lifted the end of a tube, or shifted it, to adjust tension and overall direction. Unlike a solid 20’ tube that keeps constant pressure on the fabric, there is space for the fabric to adjust itself while rolling with the couplers. Overall, this was the easiest and best rolling job that I have ever completed in the minimal amount of time. Absolutely no creases or wrinkles.
The issue with rolling historic drops is that they are not flat pieces of fabric. Furthermore, the drops are no longer square; both tops and bottoms flare out. Although the task may seem simple, it is not. Drops do not roll up like large pieces of linoleum, easily feeding onto a tube at the same rate. You must always remember that there is more fabric in the center. The central fabric was stretched after billowing in the air for years; think of a parachute. This excess fabric and odd shape mean that the drop will not easily roll and have a tendency to “walk” in one direction or another. The tube needs to be at least a foot longer on each end of the fabric for walking. Once the fabric starts to “walk,” however, it can easily go off one side or the other. You need to prevent fabric from walking as much as possible. However, you can’t force the fabric onto the tube and make it roll on straight, as there will be areas with excessive material. Even employing constant tension during the rolling will cause wrinkles to form, as excess fabric gathers around the roll. Creases cause the paint to crack and flake during transit, so they need to be avoided.
Back to my timeline. The drops rolled on the floor were completed by the end of the third day, and we began lowering drops on the fourth day. Tyvek suits, respirators and hard hats were a necessity as the dust continued to filter down from the lines. We minimized the spread of contaminants in both the space and on ourselves. Unfortunately, I donated the majority of my N95 masks supply to medical workers last spring, and depleted my final supply of masks on site at the Tabor Opera House in September. I returned to standard respirators with N95 cartridges. People who complain about fabric masks have obviously never worn a respirator for an entire work day while doing manual labor.
We did get to rest on the sixth day, and drove to Virginia Beach to watch the waves. Seeing the ocean, and having a picnic lunch in our car on a col day did a world of good for our tired bodies and minds.
We were able to finish rolling all drops by Tuesday, Jan. 12. Wednesday was spent picking up the 26’ truck and building the shipping frame for the drops and battens. While Michael and Andrew prepared the truck, I completed the labeling system for the drops.
The end of each roll contained two labels. The first (white) label included a number and description, as well as indicating whether it was the top or bottom of the vertically rolled scene. The number on the first label correlated to a detailed packing list. The second (color) labels listed the scenic piece, included an image pictures of the piece, and noted all of the Masonic degrees the setting could accompany. The color coding distinguished between exterior and palatial scenes, in addition to those reserved for specific empty lines at the Tucson Scottish Rite.
Laughter sustained all of us for the majority of the project and we worked extremely well as a team. Michael and I returned to Minneapolis on Saturday, with him driving home Sunday morning (Jan. 17). Andrew dropped off the shipment yesterday (Jan. 18) in Tucson and starts for home today.
Tomorrow (Jan. 20) I return to all of the projects that I put on hold, especially the Tabor Opera House (Leadville, Colorado) scenery evaluation. I will continue to post painted details from both Richmond and Leadville in the upcoming weeks.