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Part 714: The State of Scottish Rite Scenery at Sosman & Landis in 1909

I return to the entries in Thomas Moses’ typed manuscript during the 1909. Over the course of the past three-month, almost 100 posts, I have rambled down side roads that provided insight into historical scenic art, stage lighting, counterweight systems, and the evolution of Masonic scenery. For quite a while, I focused on theatre installations secured by E. A. Armstrong Manufacturing Co. of Chicago and M. C. Lilley & Co. of Columbus, and subcontracted to Sosman & Landis under the guidance of Bestor G. Brown. I am trying to tie up loose ends that uncover interesting historical tidbits that never quite made it into the theatre history textbooks.

Moses returns to the Sosman & Landis main studio at the beginning of 1909, as he had been traveling quite extensively throughout all of 1908, although one could say this has remained his standard mode of operation since starting with the company in 1880. Moses explained the cause for his return to the main studio instead of the annex studio, writing, “Sosman seemed to think I was needed there more than at 20^th Street. Pausback took charge of the 20^th Street studio.”

Business was booming, and Sosman & Landis increased their forces. Of staffing at the two studios, Moses wrote, “We have quite a force now at Clinton Street. We have forty-eight on the payroll, which includes the sewing girls and foremen. At 20^th Street we have an average of twelve. I think we should turn out some work and we do. It is often a puzzle to me where it all goes, but the Masonic work requires a lot of time, and there is an average of eighty drops in each order so it makes plenty of work and is very interesting. The artists never grumble when they get it to do.”

Up to 1909, Sosman & Landis had delivered at least twenty-six Scottish Rite collections. In some cases more than one collection was delivered to the same location in less than a decade. The ones that I have verified include:

Chicago, Illinois (first, second and third installations)

Little Rock, Arkansas (first, second and third installations)

Oakland, California

Wichita, Kansas (first and second installations)

Guthrie, Oklahoma

Fargo, North Dakota

Salina, Kansas (first and second installations)

McAlester, Oklahoma (first and second installations)

Portland, Oregon

Duluth, Minnesota

Fort Scott, Kansas

Topeka, Kansas

Detroit. Michigan

San Francisco, California (first and second installations)

Fort Wayne, Indiana

Salt Lake City, Utah

Dubuque, Iowa

Yankton, South Dakota

Clarksburg, West Virginia

Wheeling, West Virginia

 

In 1909, I have verified that Sosman & Landis produced five Scottish Rite scenery collections: Dallas, TX, San Francisco, CA (second collection), Cleveland, OH, Kanas City, MO, Atlanta, GA, and Winona, MN. Even using Moses’ 1909 formula that Masonic installations averaged 80 drops per order, this would be 400 Masonic drops over the course of 365 days, not including the flats and other properties that would accompany the scenery collections.

According to scenic artist John Hanny who began with the studio in 1906, Masonic work only made up 24-30% of the studio’s entire output. This was also during the same time that Sosman & Landis had started creating scenery for the Ringling Brothers’ grand spectacles too.

We can therefore conservatively estimate that Sosman & Landis artists produced approximately 1200 drops during 1909. The output could have been more, but this likely means that the studio was producing approximately four drops every day of the week. Fortunately, they had a staff of forty-eight on payroll in the main studio and twelve in the annex to help with demand.

 

To be continued…

The following is the third in a series of posts pertaining to the article “The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting,” published in “Britain at Work. A Pictorial Description of Our National Industries” by W. Wheeler, during 1902. Here is the final of three posts:

“When a manager, sometimes with help from the author, has roughly indicated the kind of scene he requires, the scene- painter makes a sketch, and if that is approved he proceeds to construct of cardboard a complete model, on a scale, say, of half an inch to the foot. It is here that the resourcefulness and inventiveness of the scene-painter are able to make themselves felt. The model shows every thing, down to the smallest detail — not only the landscape, but door and windows, those which have to open in the actual scene being made ” practicable ” in the model.

“Wings “and “top-cloths” [borders] are also shown, and even the pulley and ropes which will be used in the adjustment of the scene are indicated. This part of the work, as may be supposed, calls for abundant patience, but its importance is manifest, and no scene-painter begrudges the time he has to spend upon his model, even when he knows that he will have to toil early and late to get the work finished by the stipulated time.

The model, when at last it is completed, is submitted to the manager’s consideration. It may be that he or the author desires some alteration, generally an in considerable one. When the modification has been made, the model is handed over to the master carpenter, who constructs the framework which is to receive the canvas. Having been affixed to the frame, the canvas is prepared by the painter’s labourers, whose business also it is to mix the colours. These are ground in water, by means of such a machine as is figured in one of our illustrations. Now the artist draws the design in chalk or char coal, and then the colours are filled in, always, as I have said, with due regard to the artificial conditions under which the picture has to be viewed, certain colours, therefore, which appear very differently in artificial light as compared with natural light, being avoided al together, or modified, as the case may be.

That scene-painting, like most other modes of earning one’s daily bread, is not without drawbacks, I am not prepared to assert. Strange indeed would it be if this were not so. The work, as the reader will know for himself, has a plentiful lack of regularity, and while both master painters and assistants often have to toil under heavy pressure to get their scenes ready by the eventful night, the assistants, at any rate, sometimes have periods of enforced leisure.

The attractions of the vocation, however, to those to whom the work itself is congenial, far outweigh this disadvantage. If the practitioner of the art is clever and resourceful, if he can not only wield the brush swiftly and deftly, but is also facile in inventing a scene from the manager’s brief hints, which is a much rarer gift, he in no long time may rise to distinction, besides being liberally rewarded in a pecuniary sense for his industry and skill”.

To be continued…

Part 712: The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting, 1902

The following is the second in a series of posts pertaining to the article “The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting,” published in “Britain at Work. A Pictorial Description of Our National Industries” by W. Wheeler, during 1902. Here is part two of three posts:

“In former days each leading theatre had its own staff of scene-painters; now the rule is for the scenes to be distributed among several artists, regard being had, of course, to the special aptitudes of one just indicated, is that the work is no longer for the most part done in the theatres, but in buildings rented or acquired by the various artists, and by them adapted to their requirements. Almost the only exception to this rule is Drury Lane, which is such an enormous structure that there is room in it for at least some of the scenes that are presently to grace the stage to be painted “on the premises.” At Drury Lane, indeed, there is room for everything.

Other theatres have to store their scenes in railway arches, and so forth, and my readers will doubtless remember how not so very long ago a fire in one of these arches wrought havoc among the beautiful scenes which Sir Henry Irving had accumulated; but Drury Lane Henry Irving had accumulated; but Drury Lane.

This leads me to speak of yet another change that has come over the -” mystery ” of scene -painting. Formerly the canvas was spread on the floor, and the artist traced his designs with a brush having a handle long enough to permit of his standing over his work. The inconveniences of this modus operandi are obvious enough. In the first place, the work could only be done in a building with a large superficial area. The Covent Garden Opera House requires scenes seventy feet long by forty feet broad, and though the stage of Covent Garden is the largest in this country, scenes

for an average theatre have to be some forty feet by thirty-five feet. The position, too, was an awkward and tiring one for the painter, who must have known excellently well what backache means, and who was also reduced to the painful necessity of treading his work under foot. Now all these drawbacks are avoided by the simple expedient of a windlass and a slit in the floor, through which the canvas, attached to a frame, is raised or lowered so as to bring that part of it which is being operated upon at the moment on a level with the painter’s arm.

It is still necessary, of course, that the painter should have a fairly lofty building to work in, but he requires comparatively little floor space. In Macklin Street, between Holborn and Drury Lane, a large warehouse has been converted into painting rooms by two well-known scenic artists. Other scene-painters have appropriated and adapted such buildings as factories and mission chapels rather farther afield, where probably space is a less costly commodity than it is within a stone’s – throw of the Holborn Restaurant; and there is one painting room so far away from theatre-land as Lewisham. Mr. Bruce Smith, who works only for Drury Lane and Covent Garden — though he does not, of course, monopolize the contracts given out by these two theatres, since he is only capable of doing the work of two or three men and not of a round dozen — does some of his painting at Drury Lane; and, as he is one of those who can do two things at once, friends who call upon him here seldom find him too busy to have a chat.

Before passing on to describe how scene- painting is done, I should mention the rather curious circumstance that our ingenious neighbours across the Channel still paint on the floor. That they produce good results, at whatever inconvenience to themselves, may, to use one of their own idioms, go without saying, for so artistic and theatre-loving a nation as the French are not likely to be content with inferior work. Speaking generally and roughly, the French scene – painter aims, perhaps, at rather quieter effects than his English compeer, but it would require a robust patriotism to assert that they are less artistic.

To be continued…

 

 

Part 711: The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting, 1902 

The following is the first in a series of posts pertaining to the article “The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting,” published in “Britain at Work. A Pictorial Description of Our National Industries” during 1902. Here is part one of three posts:

“SCENE -PAINTING is, of course, an art as well as an avocation. The scene – painter, it is true, can aim only at broad effects; delicacy and subtlety he must not attempt. And to the conventions of the ordinary painter he has to add others arising out of the circumstance that his work has to be viewed from a distance, not only in artificial light, but often in artificial light that is tinted. This, however, does not make his work less an art; it is one difficulty the more to over come; and the best scene-painter, other things being equal, is the one who most successfully adapts his art to all the manager’s exacting requirements.

In these pages, however, it is with scene- painting as an avocation rather than as an art that we are primarily concerned. That those who rise to distinction in the profession are not unhandsomely remunerated for their skill and pains may be taken for granted. In these days so much depends upon the ” mounting ” of a piece — audiences have, as a result of long indulgence, come to expect so much in the way of scenic beauty — that it would be strange indeed if the men whose function it is to supply the demand had to complain of inadequate recompense in current coin. Nor does the work fail to bring some measure of glory to those who are mainly responsible for it.

Such names as Hawes Craven, Joseph Harker, Bruce Smith. VV. Telbin, R. Caney, W. Harford, Henry Emden, W. T. Hemsley, T. E. Ryan, and Walter Johnston are almost household words among that largest of all “the classes” who frequent the theatres. A fleeting kind of fame, no doubt. But so also is that of the actor. The greatest of those who tread the boards and nightly move multitudes to ecstasy have no sooner quitted the scenes of their triumphs than they begin to fade into abstractions, and if they remain anything more than mere names it is at least as much because, like David Garrick, they were personalities as on account of their histrionic genius.

Although some of the big cities of the provinces, such as Liverpool, Manchester, and Birmingham, have their own scene painters, the great centre of the profession is London ; and it is the scene-painters of the metropolis who for the most part furnish forth the scenery for those touring companies that carry successful plays into the country. Yet even in London— and even though during the last few years theatres have been springing up all over the town — the number of scene-painters is not considerable. Painters and assistants together do not, probably, number more than about a hundred. To these must be added the articled pupils; and although many of these have acquired a consider able degree of proficiency, one still marvels how so small a body of men contrives to get through such an enormous mass of work.

In former days each leading theatre had its own staff of scene-painters; now the rule is for the scenes to be distributed among several artists, regard being had, of course, to the special aptitudes of many of these have acquired a consider able degree of proficiency, one still marvels how so small a body of men contrives to get through such an enormous mass of work.

To be continued…

Part 710: Scenic Art Training

Over a year ago, I was contacted by a fellow scenic artist in the UK. She was searching for information about instructional guides that described the painting process in the 19^th century. It is fun to converse with and assist a fellow scenic artist who is also focusing on the history of scenic art. While keeping an eye open over the past year, I stumbled across “The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting” in “Britain at Work. A Pictorial Description of Our National Industries,” published in 1902. One particular sentence that caught my eye as I started to read the article: “In these pages, however, it is with scene- painting as an avocation rather than as an art that we are primarily concerned.” This is a loaded statement that signified a shift in the scenic art profession, and one that should be considered today.

Before I post this article in its entirety (over the course of the next few days due to length) there is something to consider about our theatrical past, our future and the training of scenic artists. I say this from the perspective of one who has been criticized for not sharing enough about my personal scenic art and restoration techniques.

I’ll start with the historical context of sharing scenic art techniques with fellow scenic artists, or the general public. During the 19^th century, the mystery of scenic art was unveiled in multiple publications. This continued into the twentieth century, although the process somewhat shifted to stress a simple avocation. During this time, the roll of the scenic artist as “genius,” “visionary,” and “master artist” starts to disappear. The scenic artist becomes the mere translator of a scenic designer’s vision. For stage scenery, another concept enters the public perception of scenic art, and that is the idea that “anyone can paint.”

All the while, numerous instructional pamphlets and publications began to appear, most accentuating that scene painting is more of an avocation than an art form, and it can easily be studied and mastered. These publications promote that a book can adequately instruct any student, or interested individual, to paint theatre scenery. Even the title of the 1902 article attempts to convey the “mystery” of the scenic art avocation. This was part of a growing trend where 19^th century scenic art techniques and stage effects are shared with the general pubic for enjoyment and reference. Innovative and intriguing mechanical effects even appeared in “Scientific American” as popular topics. In some ways, this was the equivalent of a magician revealing its secret to the crowd, as inquiring minds wanted to know. Another fascinating publication was “Magic Stage Illusions and Scientific Diversions Including Trick Photography,” compiled and edited by Albert A. Hopkins in 1897. This is all part of a growing trend that intensified by the early twentieth century.

Meanwhile, between approximately 1850 and 1950, the perception of the art aspect to scenic art, becomes promoted as a craft. The scenic studios systematically cranking out scenery greatly contributed to this perception. The painting techniques and overall stage aesthetic of painted illusion also began to shift at this time. It is pretty easy to identify when examining backdrops over the course of several decades when they were painted; an artistry began to gradually fade, and is replaced with a more systematic and formulaic approach that has continued to this day. This does not mean that the skill wasn’t present in artists, but the paint application and actual training started to follow a different course. There is also the interesting introduction of the perception that a scenic artist’s job could be successfully completed by any well-intentioned and slightly skilled individual. In other words, with just a little time and some guidance, they could successfully paint stage scenery. In a similar vein, think about the manufacture of cars; a lot of companies make cars, but they are not all equal, ranging from $12,000 to $750,000. The all have four tires and a steering wheel, but there is a difference in quality, even when the basic function is the same.

Then we consider the actual training of scenic artists, as it began to shift from studio to school. I remain on the fence about scenic art being taught at a University versus in a paint studio. I am of a generation who received scenic art instruction at University and benefited from a liberal arts approach. Exploring scenic art techniques was placed within the wonderful context of supplemental knowledge discovered in humanities and art history classes. But I did not learn scenic art in a studio, where I lived and breathed it six days a week for six decades.

The entire American stage aesthetic also shifted during this same period, 1900-1930. This era included an increased appearance of draperies for settings instead of strict painted illusion. The decorative nature of popular art began to permeate the stage and the rise of scenic designer increased, delegating the scenic artist to become a translator for their vision. The dominance of the Düsseldorf and Hudson River Valley schools’ romanticism was somewhat replaced with stencils and paint-by-number on a variety of fabrics, including silks and plush velvet. However, for standard high school, community, ethnic hall or other productions, instructional manuals helped and encouraged amateur artists paint the necessary stage scenes. We can be thrilled that art permeated all aspects of our culture, but it also redefined the field scenic art.

Only so much scenic art instruction can be passed along in a book or online, even with a lovely YouTube video. This is a profession that requires hands-on instruction and mentorship, as well as intensive study and years of practice. In the end, not all scenic artists are equal. Now, this is my belief, and I have certainly been read the riot act about this stance, yet I cannot think of any profession where all individuals are equal, just look at the medical profession. If all scenic artists were the same, we would all charge the same rate and everything would look the same; there would be no need for unions or people receiving any higher rate than another..

While working with Vern Sutton at Opera in the Ozarks one summer, I heard him say something pretty profound to a group of young opera singers; his message could really apply to all artists. He was explaining how very few world class singers were out there. Unless he had specifically told an individual that they were world class, they weren’t; “you will recognize a world class voice instantly.” That same summer, I heard my first world-class voice and it was unmistakable, no question; there was only the one in the dozens of performers that year. The same can be said for scenic art. There are some who rise to top of their profession, whether as a rocket or bubble of air seeking the surface. Many scenic artists spend an increadible amount of money and time perfecting their techniques and knowledge of the industry.

Understandably, these journeymen scenic artists are hesitant to give their “secrets” all away, unless they are in a secure position. This is not a new stance, as I have repeatedly encountered this topic in scenic artists’ memoirs and newspaper articles throughout the nineteenth and twentieth century. Think of the entire point of guilds protecting trade secrets. I think of the newspapers that heralded a handful of scenic artists when there were hundreds painting during the 1890s. These were exceptionally skilled individuals. Only a few rose to the top of their profession, and they did not give free or reduced-rate workshops for aspiring artists. They may have painted alongside apprentices in fine art studios, or at the paint frame, but there was a hierarchy in the industry based on skill and experience.

When you have a formula, or trade secret that works really well for you – one that took years to understand or develop – would you share it with a direct competitor? Would you share a formula, or trade secret, with a fellow scenic artist in another region or country that did not directly compete with you? Would you share your research with the world before publishing? Knowing the time and expense that you invested in training and experience, would you share a recipe or technique with someone who is just starting out? I was once told, if you give something away, it can devalue what you are actually offering. In context, please consider, that I have likely done more pro bono work over the course of my career than actual paid work. I frequently give away much of my research and what I know, but I am not putting a restoration or painting recipe on a card, as it devalues what I have to offer as a professional and what I have worked so hard to accomplish.

Here is another consideration: If you are a teacher with health insurance, benefits and a retirement plan, it is part of your job to share your recipes and train your students. If you are a freelance artist and have struggled to do it all on your own, is it not your job to share and train. If you have a secure and full-time position in a paint studio, this is very different than an itinerant artist who never knows where their next project will take them. Skilled students directly benefit, and reflect positively on a university instructor or full-time charge artist in a shop; they are a direct credit to their mentor’s skill and leadership. This is not the case for the experienced freelance artist or any independent contractor. I can think of no other profession that expects professionals to share all of their knowledge with someone who is just starting out, unless they are grooming them to be a replacement at the end of a career. Enough of the diatribe, I welcome feedback and criticism of my thoughts.

To be continued…

 

 

Part 709: “Installation Shall be Under the Direction of Bestor G. Brown”

By 1910, the process of manufacturing and installing Scottish Rite scenery collections operated by Brown’s special system was running like a well-oiled machine. M. C. Lilley & Co. landed the work and subcontracted the scenery, stage machinery and lighting portion to Sosman & Landis. M. C. Lilley & Co. provided the costumes, regalia and other necessary paraphernalia.

Up to this point, I have discussed the scenery produced for Little Rock, Oakland, Wichita, Guthrie, Fargo, Salina, Portland and others at the turn of the twentieth century. Let’s jump ahead a decade at the peak production of Scottish Rite scenery in the Sosman & Landis studio, 1909-1910. During that two-year period, Sosman & Landis produced scenery and stage machinery for Kansas City, Kansas; Winona, Minnesota; Dallas, Texas; Atlanta, Georgia; Memphis, Tennessee; Guthrie, Oklahoma (second installation); St. Paul, Minnesota; Denver, Co; and Indianapolis, Indiana. Keep in mind that at this time the studio also refurbished the Wichita scenery from 1898 and delivered it to Yankton, South Dakota. There are other collections from this period that remain unidentified at this time.

I have also looked in detail at the promotion of Brown’s special system, a method of counterweighting the scenery, that was marketed by well known Mason, Bestor G. Brown. For Masonic context, Brown was a Past Grand Mater of the Grand Lodge of Kansas (1903) and a member of numerous Masonic orders, including the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry in both the Northern and Southern Jurisdiction. Brown also belonged to the Odd Fellows, Knights of Pythias and Improved Order of Redmen. His profession was that of western sales manager for M. C. Lilley & Co., a supplier of fraternal, military and band goods. He was also considered the only Masonic Stage carpenter in the United States.

There is an interesting section in the 1910 contract between M. C. Lilley & Co., represented by Brown, and the Guthrie Scottish Rite:

“The installation shall be under the direction of Bestor G. Brown who will take charge of and handle the stage during the first reunion, without compensation or expense of any kind, provided of course, sickness or other preventing circumstances shall not operate and abridgement of any in terms of this contract or the pecuniary liability expressed therein.”

This is big, and I doubt that this is an unusual occurrence. It also explains why Brown was considered the Masonic stage carpenter, ruler of the realm behind the footlights. This single sentence in the contract places Brown on site during the first Scottish Rite Reunion that uses the new stage machinery and scenery. It means that at the completion of each Scottish Rite project there is an individual on site to supervise the initial operation of the system, keeping an eye on Masonic stagehands that are unfamiliar with the backstage aspects of a theatrical production.

There are two significant things to consider:

First of all, after most Sosman & Landis theater installations, the company representative superintending the site work remained on site as the theater opened, or at least operated the system to familiarize the client with the new products. In fact, Sosman & Landis had several employees who traveled from location, to location, installing scenery and stage machinery. The supervisor of each installation worked with a crew of carpenters and then operated the system for the client upon completion. Often after an installation – the superintendent of the work would show how everything worked upon completion. In 1887, newspapers reported that Sosman & Landis would, “complete everything, ready for the rise of the curtain, and will run the stage for the first performance.”

We also know that certain that at least one Sosman & Landis stage carpenter traveled without drawings. In the case of Charles S. King and the Crump Theatre project during the late nineteenth century, he was the only individual who was personally held the knowledge pertaining to the carpentry work and installation of the stage machinery and scenery. to install the stage systems. This was a smart move and may have prevented information from being shared with Sosman & Landis’ competitors, keeping new innovations safeguarded, just as guilds protected trade secrets. The knowledge of a new method for installing counterweight systems placed Sosman & Landis ahead of their competitors to deliver more scenery, as Brown’s special system placed the rigging lines close together.

As the scenery and stage machinery were subcontracted Sosman & Landis, it also makes sense that Brown would be on site, representing M. C. Lilley & Co. and directly communicating with the client. After all, the one installing the scenery may not be a Mason or hold that necessary “charm” when the client became a challenge. Also, keep in mind that it was M. C. Lilley & Co. who directly contracted the entire theatre portion of the project with each Scottish Rite.

The second article of note in this clause is that Brown would “take charge of and handle the stage during the first reunion.” He had to, especially if the Sosman & Landis stage carpenter was not a Mason. Fortunately for M. C. Lilley & Co. Brown was a Scottish Rite member in the Northern and Southern Jurisdiction, as well as a fraternal salesman. An active Scottish Rite Mason had to be the onsite eyes during that first reunion; and that was Brown, ensuring that everything operated as promised.

To be continued…

Part 708: The State of the Louisville Scottish Rite, 1923

 This was a post that I wrote while researching the Louisville Scottish Rite before my departure last month.

Every once and a while I take a pause to ponder, “what if this article were printed today?” Today’s article appeared in a Louisville newspaper at a time when Scottish Rite membership was exploding. In 1919, the Courier-Journal included comments by Capt. John H. Cowles, Sovereign Grand Inspector General of the Supreme Council of the Rite, who noted that unusually large classes were being accepted into the rite in all consistories of the southern jurisdiction, and that he was highly pleased with the showing made by the Louisville lodge. An article a few years later reported, “For several months the Scottish Rite has been practically overwhelmed with applications for membership, every Masonic lodge in the State reporting unusually large numbers of initiates. The result has been that for the first time in many years it has been necessary to hold two spring Scottish Rite classes, the first one having completed work only about ten days ago (Courier-Journal 23 April 1919, page 9).

What could have drawn such large candidate classes? Some cite the continued brotherhood that men sought after times of war. There are certainly many factors that caused the the growth of Scottish Rite Freemasonry during the 1920s, including an ever-growing economy and healthy middle-class. There is one other thing, however, to contemplate during this period of rapid expansion – the public persona and message of the Scottish Rite.

In the 1920s the Scottish Rite often took a public stance on many social and political issues. This may have inspired men to join during this time and there was no question about the direction of the organization. I came across an October 14, 1923, article that could have been a catalyst for Louisville men to seek out Freemasonry at that time. It was titled, “Masons to Hold Capital Meeting,” with a section, “Educational Programme.” Here is the section of the article that caught my eye:

“Educational Programme.

“In recent years the Supreme Council has given much attention to popular education, and has thrown the weight of its great influence and prestige in defense of public schools.

“At a meeting held in Colorado Springs in 1920 the Supreme Council put itself on record as favoring the Department of Education with a Secretary in the President’s Cabinet, and a Federal aid for public school purposes, under the absolute control of the States; a national university at Washington, supported by the Government; the compulsory use of English as the language of instruction in the grammar grades; adequate provision for the education of alien populations, not only in cultural and vocational subjects but especially in the principles of American institutions and popular sovereignty; the entire separation of church and State and opposition to every attempt to appropriate public moneys, directly or indirectly for the support of sectarian institutions; and giving every support to the American public schools, to provided nonpartisan, nonsectarian, efficient, democratic education for all the children of the people with equal educational opportunities for all.

“The distinctive personal virtues of honesty, courage, loyalty, work, moral integrity, and adherence to high ethical standards are urged upon the candidate. Additionally the social and civic virtues of liberty, justice, equality and fraternity are held before the candidate as ideal to be increasingly realized in political life.

“Scottish Rite Freemasonry is characteristically patriotic, and in the Southern Jurisdiction every Scottish Rite Mason is pledged to defend republicanism, constitutional government and the rights of the people against all enemies of democracy and free institution.”

I wonder how this message, if publicly posted in newspapers and on social media, would be received today. Would this make young men think, “Those are the same things that I believe in and I want to become a Freemason!” Is there anything equivalent to the article above that has been publicly posted recently by the Scottish Rite, or even in the past few decades? When did this type of article stop appearing in public newspapers?

I am often asked, “Why do you care so much about the history connected to a group of old white men?” My response remains “the message.” How do I know what the message even is? I stumbled across it thirty years ago doing research and continued to read the teachings.

Over time, I have noticed a few things while perusing past articles printed by and about the Scottish Rite. In some decades the message was shouted, and in others it was whispered; the delivery depended on those who were in charge at the time. Today, it seems as if many men seek out the Fraternity based on their own studies and search for identity, not what is publicly posted.

When we wonder why so many men joined the Scottish Rite in the 1920s, I stop to consider if the high numbers may have been linked to the Rite’s public stance on many issues; they were very vocal about what they stood for at the time. The Scottish Rite shouted a message that went far beyond handing over a charitable check. The Rite’s position was reiterated, time and time again, in newspapers – until it wasn’t.

Young people still seek organizations that they believe will make a difference in the world, standing up against things that the believe are wrong. They are trying to make a better future for themselves, their children and their grandchildren. Will a fraternity even be on their radar over the course of the next decade?

To be continued…

I met Jo Whaley in 2014 when she contacted me about the Scottish Rite scenery collection in Santa Fe; the building was being placed on the market for sale. Jo, who understood the significance of the 1912 building and the historic theatre, had decided to document the space before it passed to another owner. The building was sold, but the Santa Fe Scottish Rite managed to get it back. That is a story in itself.

Our initial encountered and discussions morphed in a book by 2015. From 2015 to 2018 Jo and I spent countless hours on the phone, working on the design, text, images, and basic correspondence. We were fortunate to have two other contributors, State Historian Rick Hendricks and the International Folk Art Museum Director Khristaan Villela. Most importantly the Santa Fe Scottish Rite gave us full control over the books contents. We are very grateful to Wes Thorton, Deputy of the Supreme Council, and Dan Ilrich, President of the Scottish Rite Building Foundation, for trusting us to tell their story.

Although it was an incredible amount of work, Jo and I became close friends, as we creatively fueled one another throughout the entire process.

The book, however, is just the beginning. It has led to other opportunities that will allow Jo and I to work together again. I am delighted about this aspect as I look forward. Part of it is that we see and approach things in a similar way. Jo worked as a scenic artist before turning to photography, so we have the same appreciation for historic scenery, as well as picturesque landscapes, and our shared history.

Last night we had the pleasure of accepting the 2109 Ralph Emerson Twitchell Award from the New Mexico Historical Society. This award is given annually by the Historical Society of New Mexico for an outstanding publication or significant contribution to the creative arts, as related to New Mexico history. An email confirming our award described our book as “absolutely amazing,” and explained, “your book does a wonderful job of presenting the accumulated knowledge of New Mexico’s pioneering Masons, as well as the story behind the building’s unique architecture and its rich theatrical legacy.” The award was presented at the Awards Banquet in Albuquerque as part of the 2019 New Mexico History Conference.  Jo and I were invited to attend this event that included a book signing.

The entire project has been about the journey. Working with Jo and the other participants has been such a wonderful experience, but it hasn’t end with the publication of the our book. I can’t wait to see where the road leads us now.

To be continued…

 

I left Louisville at 6:30 AM on Sunday, March 24. After dropping Richard Bryant off at the airport, I headed to Chicago where I was going to meet Gene Meier, a panorama historian. There have been several individuals who I have encountered while searching for online information. Gene has done extensive research on American Panorama companies. On a whim, I decided to see if he wanted to meet on my return trip. We have been talking quite a bit recently after I uncovered a panorama company established by Sosman & Landis. This was in addition to their main scenic studio.

After winding my way to Sycamore, Illinois, I located Gene’s house. It was only twenty minutes away from where I was staying that evening. In many ways, meeting Gene in person was like reuniting with a long lost friend. We have been in contact about various panoramas and scenic artists for the better part of a year. Gene’s great aunt was an artist with quite an interesting background who was connected with the panorama artists. It was wonderful to see her work up close. She left diaries, sketches, paintings and other memorabilia. The care with which Gene has pieced together little bits and pieces about her past is impressive.

Gene’s Tante Tilda, Mathilde Georgine Schley, is most famously pictured in costume with a group in front of a panorama.

The Milwaukee Journal also published an article about her in 1925 (29 Oct. 1925, page 10). She was a Wisconsin painter, and the granddaughter of one of the Kindermann pioneers. The Kindermann emigrants came from Pomerania, Stettin, the districts on the Baltic, Brandenburg and the lands along the Oder. Under the leadership of Rev. G. A. Kindermann, the “Altlutheraners” sought religious freedom. They were the forerunners to the later German emigration that would follow, reaching Wisconsin during 1843. The Milwaukee Journal article notes that “They formed a common treasury into which rich members of the group poured their wealth and out of which passage and even land for the less prosperous ones was paid. The Kindermann emigrants came to Milwaukee. Some of their number became the first settlers in the Chestnut St. district…Those from Stettin and the Oder, between 70 and 100 families settled at Lebanon and Ixonia.” Mathilde’s grandfather settled in Lebanon, Wisconsin.

By the age of 19, Mathilde taught art in Dodge county. She studied art with Loranz and von Ernst in Milwaukee before moving to Kansas where she once again worked as an art instructor.

This was such a wonderful conclusion to my USITT trip, and certainly gave me incentive to return soon.

To be continued…

This is my last post on the conference, as I leave for Santa Fe in a few hours and shift my focus to other things. There is a lot that I could discuss about USITT 2019, new friends and delightful reunions. However, I am going to end this section with reflections on painted, digital, and projected scenes.

When you visit USITT, it is almost as if you are attending two conferences. There are the expected educational sessions and displays, but there is also the EXPO. You can solely visit the EXPO floor without ever attending the rest of the conference, for a fee. Cutting the ribbon to open the EXPO is a big event and students rush into the space, going from one exhibit booth to another, collecting swag.

The EXPO includes booths advertising products, services, publications, universities and internship opportunities. In addition to student and employment opportunities, the largest presence remains vendors. USITT has made it easy for the vendors to identify those with purchasing power by attaching a black “Buyer” ribbon on their conference name tags. There are designs and new product exhibits interspersed among, and around, the vendors.

In past years, backdrops and projections lined the exterior walls, and a few booths. For this conference there were only a few. As usual, each accompanied a little placard with information about the manufacturer or venue where it once hung. This year, in one corner near a coffee stand, a poorly hung and lit backdrop was placed next to a rear projection screen. Despite the wrinkles and lighting hot spots on the painted scene, there is immediacy to the drop that was absent in the projection; apples and oranges really.

Part of the notable difference is that there is a greater contrast of values in the painted scene. The darks are darker than in the projections. The greater contrast in the painted scene gave life to the composition otherwise absent in the projection.

Now, it cannot go without comment that the painted drop was poorly hung and poorly lit; the wrinkles were pretty atrocious. If this were at any other event than a technical theatre conference, I might not be so critical of the final presentation. I can only wonder why; hazard a guess that it may have been time, poor communication or inexperience. Maybe I am simply overtly critical and wanted the painted versions to far outshine a nearby projection. However, I wonder if we have lost something, such as our understanding of how painted scenery needs to be lit? What I have witnessed over the years is that without a general top light, wrinkles and flaws in the fabric can be accentuated, such as was the case this year on the Expo floor. Some scenes only had strip lights on the floor, blasting color upwards and highlighting ever flaw.

This observation is also after we played with lights on historic scenery at the Louisville Scottish Rite the same week. Richard Bryant was running lights and we saturated with scenes with red and blue. The borders contained white, red and blue lamps. Even with complete saturation of one color, the composition was clearly visible. This is not the case with some contemporary settings, where portions of the painted scene would disappear.

The brilliancy of the projection, although effective for many purposes, does not have the division of value as the painted piece. There is a reality and immediacy of painted scenes that cannot be replicated – yet. This same can be said for digital drops. There is a quality that does not capture the life of a painted scene – yet.

When digital drops were first introduced, scenic artists should have embraced the technology and made it their own. Easier said than done, as I certainly didn’t; initially criticizing and dismissing digital drops. It wasn’t going to go away because a handful of people felt threatened and were fighting change. As our scenic art predecessors, we should have applied new technology and innovation to our trade all along the way.

The heritage of scenic artists is closely linked with applying new technology to an old trade. It is that of a scenic visionary. The scenic artist could be the intermediary, translating the vision for the stage. Scenic artists understand what works from a distance; the necessity to separate values and the appropriate application of color to make it visible from a difference. They understand the way that “painted” light needs to shape objects while reflecting the stage lights at the same time. The magician to make it digital scenery really work will be the person who designs the digital file, hopefully a scenic artist. Whether it is for a projection or print, an artist needs to finalize the scenic vision. I am certainly not the first person to propose this.

As I looked at a digital drop on the Expo floor this year, really studying the characteristics of the print quality, I realized something. The cut and paste approach of the digital design did not work here at all. Some sections were fuzzy and others crisp; some kind of stock art? Some sections were flipped, as almost a reverse and repeat. The problem was that the shadows were not consistent throughout the entire composition. Repeated objects had shadows on opposite sides. I would like to think that a scenic artist would have immediately noticed this in the design and corrected it. Do people notice? I wonder; that digital file was designed, approved, printed, used in performance, and hung at a theatre conference.

What is lost in translation, however, is the unity of the composition when the lighting is not consistent in the paint (or dye) application. It is the use of light and shadow in the design and painting that creates the illusion. Now there is nothing worse, than me casting stones at a person, product or company from a safe distance, commenting online well after the fact. This could be a productive conversation as we look toward the future. I hope that this will spark a debate.

To be continued…