Sunday was my final day of work at the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas. Over the course of seven days cleaned, repaired, consolidated loose paint, in painted, reinforced the seams, and replaced the entire top of the drop curtain with new fabric and batten. I also cleaned, consolidated loose painted, and repaired the matching grand border. Initially, this project was a pretty straightforward repair and touch-up job that was going to take five full days. However, it morphed into a “replace the entire top of the drop curtain and reinforce the seams.” It tacked on an extra two days to the project, so was my last chance to finish everything last night before I left town today. Concordia is a nine-hour drive from my home in Minnesota.
Constructed a PVC roller for the bottom of the drop; this will solely to help reposition the piece for hanging. An extremely thick layer of original primer and paint makes the composition extremely fragile and subject to cracking. All that was available was available for a quick roller was ten-foot sections of 4” PVC. We purchased four sections and five connectors. The last two connectors were added to the ends, as it lifts the tubes up, and the fabric is able to adjust during the rolling, preventing wrinkles that sometimes occur.
Roller to help shift drop curing hanging.Test run to make sure that roller would easily roll,
I positioned the assembled roller and did a dry run to make sure it would work. I wanted to verify that the paint didn’t crack when being wrapped around the diameter. Rolling would occur Monday morning, as it has been extremely humid and I wanted to make sure that everything was really dry.
My next task was to attach the new top batten, made by local theatre volunteer Royce. The battens were beautiful. As the drop is out of square, I referenced painted detail (bottom of the frame). Just as they used to attach battens: I started out with nailing the back of the batten to the stage floor. This keeps the boards straight and in position as I attached fabric. I was also able to work out a few warps this way too. Then I attached the top of the fabric to the back batten, stapling every six inches; no, there were no tacks available. I placed the front batten, sandwiching the fabric, with screws every foot, staggered. After everything was all set, I pried up the top batten and hammered over the nails. Voila! It was all set to go. The holes for suspension will be drilled when it is hung next Friday.
Attaching the back part of the batten.Complete top sandwich batten.
I then returned to both in-painting and paint consolidation on the drop curtain. I worked on the drop until there were too many wet areas and then shifted to the grand border – about 2PM. After cleaning the piece, I patched and replaced a missing grommet at the top. Then I was able to focus my attention on both the green drapes for the drop curtain and grand border.
New top batten on drop curtain and matching grand border curtain.
I finished up at 7PM and headed back to my hotel for the Board Meeting via. Zoom. I created a power point to show details of the work that occurred over the week and answered questions. The daily posts of this project were primarily for the Board of Directors to follow the progress, without stopping by during the day.
The Restored Napoleon Drop Curtain.View of matching grand border curtain and new trop of drop curtain.
This morning after checking out of my hotel, I stop by the theater, roll the drop, load up my supplies and head home. On my way home, I am stopping by the Blair Theatre in Bellville, Kansas to see their 1928 theater; Belleville is due north of Concordia.
The three horizontal seams on the Napoleon Drop Curtain at the Brown Grand Theatre were separating; the thread completely failing, leaving gaping holes in the painted composition. Each needed to be reinforced prior to hanging.
There are three seams on the Brown Grand Theatre Napoleon Drop Curtain.Damaged area on the seam.
Although this is not a common occurrence, I have encountered it before on historic scenery at Scottish Rite theaters in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and Pasadena, California.
My past work reinforcing the top, bottom, and vertical seams on a backdrop at the Pasadena Scottish Rite.
In each case, the historic scenery was treated at least twice with flame retardants, possibly more. I have noticed that when some historic drops are re-treated with a secondary type of flame retardant, a chemical reaction occurs, causing the fabric to become stained and brittle. Not only will the fabric deteriorate, but the paint will actually begin to flake off. Such is the case with the Napoleon Drop Curtain.
Brown staining on the back of the Napoleon Drop Curtain from flame retardant, c. 1978-1979.Staining from multiple applications from flame retardants. Backdrop at the Pasadena Scottish Rite Theatre, c. 1902.Damaged area on the seam.Backdrop at the Pasadena Scottish Rite Theatre, c. 1902.
We know for certain that the Napoleon Drop Curtain was treated with a flame retardant as the back clearly states “Flame Proofed”– twice. It is possible that an overly strong solution was applied to begin with, or that a secondary application was added over the years. Some fire marshals will demand that historic scenery be treated ever few years; they have no idea that this will destroy historic scenes.
Flame Proofed stencil on the Napoleon Drop Curtain at the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas.
In regard to the failing seams on the Napoleon Drop Curtain, the only remedy is to reinforce them, thus preventing the further separation of the fabric panels. I reinforced one seam earlier this week as a test sample. This was to make sure that I could manipulate the drop, as well as verifying the strength of the glue and width of the necessary patch. Today I realized that all of the seams were different widths.
The narrowest areas of a seam on the Napoleon Drop Curtain measure 1/4″.The narrowest areas of a seam on the Napoleon Drop Curtain measure almost 1 1/2″.Reinforced seam. Note how the width of the seam varies beneath reinforcement strip.
There are two factors accelerating the overall deterioration of the painted surface on the Napoleon Drop Curtain: flame retardant and primer. The primary issue is that the pigment has begun to separate from the primer. Saturating areas with an extremely diluted hide glue has helped some. However, I have been hesitant to treat any areas that were not dusting. My hesitation stems from the overall thickness of the combined primer and paint layers. I have actually never encountered such a thick layer of dry pigment paint on an entire drop before, and the added weight to the fabric is quite something.
Paint that has flaked off of the Napoleon Drop Curtain, revealing the white prime coat beneath.
The weight makes the drop difficult to shift. This drop is incredibly heavy, and it has nothing to do with the actual fabric. The weight comes from the paint. This excess weight is also taking a toll on the fragile fabric. Typically, I am able to easily move a drop once it is on the stage floor. Keep in mind that the drop is on plastic, so it should easily slide in any direction that I want it to go; I just have to get a little air under the drop and it should readily move. The easiest way I can describe this process is playing with a parachute in gym class. Giving a little flip to the edge gets air under the fabric, lifts it up, and helps move the entire drop. When it is airborne, you guide the direction of where the drop will land. Usually, I can do this by myself with very little effort, but not the Napoleon drop curtain. It took two of use today to shift the drop.
After all three seams were reinforced on the Napoleon Drop Curtain.
The drop curtain was flipped face side down to reinforce the two remaining seams. This was not an easy task. When we flipped the drop face up again, I just about burst into tears. There were entirely new areas of damage to the painted composition. This time the damage was in vertical lines running down one area of the drop. I could not believe my eyes.For the life of me, I could not figure out why there was vertical damage, and not horizontal.
An example of vertical damage that occurred when flipping the drop. Notice previously stabilized horizontal cracks.Detail of damage that occurred after the Napoleon Drop Curtain was flipped painted side up.
There is that moment of stunned silence when I find myself at a loss. Then my brain goes into overtime, trying to process what has happened and what this means for the rest of the restoration and hanging process. I thought of all of the obstacles that will occur when it is hung from the pipe and raised. I needed to come up with a process to minimize any further damage during handling and hanging.
When I was patching four horizontal tears on the the backside of the drop, I noticed a vertical crease running though an entire fabric panel. At the time, I could not imagine was caused it. This flaw was original to the creation of the drop and not recent. It is now contributing to the paint separation, as are other areas with fabric flaws.
Flaw in the fabric on the back of the drop that I noticed while patching. This is one of the areas where a vertical line appeared when he drop was flipped over.Damage to the fabric near the flaw.
Here is my plan for today:
When the paint restoration is completed it will need to dry overnight. Despite the air conditioning, an abundance of rain this week has not helped lower humidity levels or dry time. Early Monday morning, I will roll the drop onto a tube. Due to limited time and supplies, I am forced to use fabric-wrapped PVC tubes. This in itself is incredibly tricky, as old drops seldom easily roll without creases. The new top batten will already be attached and ready to go. The idea is that the drop will be slowly unrolled as it is lifted; a time-consuming process, as it will need many hands gently unrolling the drop. Once suspended, and the lines leveled (hemp system), the bottom batten will be added. Attaching the bottom batten is pretty straight forward as the original lines are still visible. This is an original batten, by the way. The problem is that I will not be there for the actual hanging, scheduled next Friday.
How the drop responded during handling does not bode well for the overall longevity of this piece.
I was recently asked how long the restored drop could last. Considering the deteriorated fabric and flaking, I explained that it could possibly last for another forty, or even fifty, years. However, at some point it will need a backing piece, one that covers and supports everything. That is always a last resort and should be delayed as long as possible. The repairs to the back will cause a huge problem during the backing process. The added thickness and weight will also become problematic. After seeing the vertical lines today, I don’t know if it will last more than a few decades now, especially when I start factoring in the humidity and heat in Kansas. Temperatures on the stage greatly vary.
I have been restoring historic scenery for quite some time. There are always wildcards that you can’t anticipate, but this one is really unique. For a drop painted in 1978, this should be in much better shape. There is just so much paint on the fabric. The seams will hold, but it is impossible to determine when the actual fabric will give way. I say this, having handled drops three times the age of this one, with absolute confidence that they had several decades left in them.
The thickness of a paint layer ultimately determines the lifetime of a backdrop. The seaming matters too. Over time, I have noticed that vertical seams support the weight of bottom battens better than horizontal seams.
I spent yesterday afternoon in Aspen, Colorado, at the Wheeler Opera House. This was a trip instigated by Ziska Childs; a project that took advantage my visit to the Tabor Opera House in Leadville this month. I was fortunate to share my on-site discoveries with Jenny Knott, Michael Powers, and Tammy Taber. After an in-depth examination of the Wheeler drop curtain, we suspended it from a downstage line and admired the scenic art from the house. Shortly after the unveiling, my preliminary findings were presented to the Board of Directors. I am currently in the process of developing an historical analysis, condition report and replacement appraisal for the piece.
The current drop curtain for the Wheeler Opera House was delivered by Tiffin Scenic Studios, Inc. in 1983. It is the same subject matter as the drop curtain first delivered to the Wheeler Opera House when it opened in 1889. The original drop curtain for the Wheeler Opera House was painted by Henry E. Burcky, a scenic artist for the Tabor Opera House in Leadville and Tabor Grand Opera House in Denver. Prior to relocating west, Burcky was also a scenic artist at Hooley’s Theatre in Chicago and also painted for the Cincinnati Opera Festival in 1881. I have written about him quite a bit in the past. On March 26, 1889, the Aspen Times interviewed Manager Weill of the Wheeler Opera House who described the new drop curtain as “a representation of the Brooklyn Bridge painted by Burke [of the Chicago Opera House] from sketches obtained in this city and is one of the best pieces of work of the kind I have ever seen.”
That same year that Burcky worked for the Wheeler Opera House, he also painted a drop curtain for DeRemer’s Opera House in Pueblo, Colorado.
Burcky first came onto my radar while researching a set of painted cut wings at Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, c. 1890. From 1884-1890 Burcky painted scenes for Tabor’s opera houses in both Leadville and Denver. During this time, Burcky and master mechanic J. C. Alexander renovated numerous Colorado stages for the Silver Circuit, their projects included those in Aspen, Leadville, and Pueblo.
The extant drop curtain at the Wheeler Opera House by Tiffin Studios is either a painted replica of the original drop curtain, or one inspired by Burcky’s work. I am currently on a quest to track down the history for this particular piece.
Painted detail. Drop curtain Wheeler Opera House, Aspen, Colorado. c. 1983 Tiffin Scenic Studios, Inc.Drop curtain Wheeler Opera House, Aspen, Colorado. c. 1983 Tiffin Scenic Studios, Inc.Painted detail. Drop curtain Wheeler Opera House, Aspen, Colorado. c. 1983 Tiffin Scenic Studios, Inc.Painted detail. Drop curtain Wheeler Opera House, Aspen, Colorado. c. 1983 Tiffin Scenic Studios, Inc.Painted detail. Drop curtain Wheeler Opera House, Aspen, Colorado. c. 1983 Tiffin Scenic Studios, Inc.Painted detail. Drop curtain Wheeler Opera House, Aspen, Colorado. c. 1983 Tiffin Scenic Studios, Inc.Painted detail. Drop curtain Wheeler Opera House, Aspen, Colorado. c. 1983 Tiffin Scenic Studios, Inc.Painted detail. Drop curtain Wheeler Opera House, Aspen, Colorado. c. 1983 Tiffin Scenic Studios, Inc.Painted detail. Drop curtain Wheeler Opera House, Aspen, Colorado. c. 1983 Tiffin Scenic Studios, Inc.
Albert B. Mason was another Sosman & Landis scenic artist who worked at the studio for approximately eight years, from 1887 to 1895. Mason was added to the studio staff shortly after the main studio was constructed in 1886.
Walking home from the studio on February 9, 1895, Mason was assaulted and robbed. During the attack, Mason’s skull was fractured, and he died shortly thereafter from an arterial hemorrhage. In regard to his location, the Sosman & Landis studio was located at 236 South Clinton Street and Mason lived only a short distance away at 130 West Van Buren street. The area was well known as a rough neighborhood.
At the time of his passing, Mason was working on a drop curtain for the newly constructed Auditorium Theatre in Newark, Ohio.
The Auditorium in Newark, Ohio, was constructed between 1894 and 1895.
On February 17, 1895, the “Newark Daily Advocate” published included an article entitled, “The Artist Who Painted the Auditorium’s Drop Curtain, Murdered in Chicago” (“Newark Daily Advocate,” 17 Feb 1895, page 1).
Here is the article in its entirety:
“The drop curtain for the Memorial auditorium arrived from Chicago yesterday. The delay in sending the curtain was due to an unfortunate occurrence in Chicago a few days ago. Albert B. Mason, one of the best artists in the employ of Sosman & Landis, was engaged in painting the curtain and on his return home from work he was attacked by footpads [nineteenth-century term for robber or thief], receiving injuries from which he died. Another skillful artist was secured, and the curtain finished as soon as possible. Concerning the murder of Mr. Mason a Chicago paper says: Albert B. Mason, scenic artist, lies dead at his home, the result of wounds received in a fight with two thugs who assaulted and tried to rob him. On the way home when crossing the alley between Jefferson and Desplaines streets he was jumped on by thieves and knocked down. The blows and fall dazed him for a moment, but he quickly regained his feet and made for the two men to fight them off. But they followed up their attack, one on either side, hitting him in the face and neck. He was a big, strong man and his assailants were also of large build as well as desperate characters. He made a brave fight, but they were getting the better of him. As quickly as he could Mr. Mason drew his revolver. As shots were heard it is supposed he commenced firing, thinking this would cause the villains to run away. Instead, however, they wrested the weapon from him, and while one held his arms the other pounded him over the head with it until he fell unconscious to the ground; then they took his watch and ran. Two policemen captured them a few moments later. With the assistance of those who came to his rescue, Mr. Mason, stunned and bleeding, managed to get home and send a doctor. It was found that he had been wounded on the top of his head, from the effects of which he died at 1 o’clock yesterday morning. It is said to be a clear case of murder and the murderers are held at Desplaines Street Station. The police know them as O’Brien and Lyons, two of he toughest of the many tough footpads that infest the South Clinton, Desplaines, and Halsted street districts. They were arrested by Patrolmen Hickey and Hoffman, of the Desplaines Station force shortly after their attempt to hold up Mr. Mason. The latter appeared at the station and identified his assailants. Albert A. Mason has been painting theatrical scenery for the firm Sosman & Landis, No. 236 South Clinton street, seven of eight years and was one of their best artists.”
Harry Lyons, alias “Butch” Lyons and Cornelius O’Brien were apprehended after the attack and held without bail. In March of that year the Grand Jury indicted both on a charge of murder. Lyons was given a death sentence, and O’Brien received a sentence of twenty years in prison. Lyons was hanged at the County jail that fall. An article on October 12, 1895, in the “Chicago Tribune,” described all of the grizzly details of the murder, court case, and execution (page 14).
I have located very information about this relatively unknown Sosman & Landis artist.
Mason was born in Michigan in 1858. He was the son of Canadian-born Stephen Mason (1811-?) and Laura Green Mason (1823-1907). His mother’s family hailed from Pennsylvania. His siblings were Mary D. Mason Harrington (1838-1918), Harry Mason (1838-918), Stephen Mason (1840-1873), Bertha Sarah Mason Homser (1851-1927), George Mason (1853-1944), Harriet Mason (1856-?), James Mason (1861-?), Emma Elenore Mason Fox (1864-1950) and Eunice Mason (1864-1878).
By 1860, 2-yrs.-old Albert Mason was living with his mother and three siblings in Blissfield, Lenawee County, Michigan. The Mason household included Laura (37 yrs. old), Elizabeth (14 yrs. old), Sarah (9 yrs. old), George (7 yrs. old) and Albert (2 yrs. old). All three of Albert’s siblings were born in Ohio, whereas Albert was born in Michigan. His mother was working as a weaver, listing her birthplace as Pennsylvania.
Ten years later, the Mason family was still living in Blissfield. The 1870 US Federal Census did not list Albert’s father as part of the household, only his mother (46 yrs.) and siblings, George (17 yrs.), James (9 yrs.) and Emily (5 yrs.). George and Albert were listed as working in a “stage factory.”.
By the age of twenty-one, Mason was living in Toledo, Ohio. The 1879 City Directory listed him as a painter and boarding with his mother. His brother James Mason was also listed as a painter, living in the same household. Their mother was also in the directory and listed as the widow of Stephen Mason, residing at “s s Germania 3 e of Heston.” In 1879, Mason married Ellen O’Neil in Monroe, Michigan.
By 1880, 22-yrs.-old Mason was living with his wife “Ella” in Defiance. The couple lived on Harrison St. with Mason’s younger sister, Emma. It remains unclear when or why Mason moved to Chicago, but he began working for Sosman & Landis between 1887 and 1888.
His death was reported in “The Evening News” of Defiance, Ohio (page 8): “Albert B. Mason, a respected citizen assaulted by two thugs. He is shot twice in head-Notorious Butch Lyons and Con O’Brien are remanded to jail.
(Chicago Mail, Feb. 13, 1895)
“Albert B. Mason, one of our oldest and most valued employes lies dead at his home at 130 West Van Buren street, form the effects of an assault by two thugs who robbed, beat and shot him last Saturday evening on Van Buren Street, near Jefferson. So wrote Sosman & Landis, whose scene painting studio is 236 and 238 South Clinton street, to the Mail this morning. At the very moment that the letter was being written, Harry Lyons, alias ‘Butch’ Lyons, and John O’Brien, alias Con O’Brien, were being remanded back to jail at the Desplaines street police court without bail to await the action of the coroner’s jury tomorrow morning, when it views the dead body of Albert B. Mason. The latter died at 11 o’clock this morning from the effects of an assault which Butch Lyons and Conb O’Brien are being charged with having made upon the defenseless man.
Happened four days ago.
Mason was held up and robbed Saturday night at 9:30 on Van Buren by Lyons and O’Brien, who stepped out of an alley between Jefferson and Desplaines streets as he was passing and assaulted him.
Mason drew a revolver and Lyons is said to have wrenched it from his hands and fired two shots. One of the bullets grazed his forehead. Mason was also struck on the head with the butt of the pistol. As Lyons and O’Brien started away they ran into officers Hickey and Hoffman, of the Desplaines street station, who had been attracted by the shots. The pair were locked up at the station and Mason was taken home.
Mason appeared in court Monday morning with his head bandaged. He identified Lyons and O’Brien as the robbers. They were placed under bonds in the sum of $4,400. This morning as the men were arraigned again, Capt. Gibbons brought in word that Mason was dead. The wound had not been considered serious until morning when a blood vessel burst in his head, due, it was reported, to the injuries, and the doctor stated that he could not live.
At the coroner’s inquest the jury brought the verdict of willful murder against Lyons and O’Brien and remanded them back to jail without bail awaiting the action of the grand jury.”
Albert’s mother died on March 19, 1907, and was buried in Lambertville Cemetery, Lambertville, Monroe County, Michigan. Sadly, the cemetery records were destroyed in a fire. It is possible that Albert was also buried in Lambertville Cemetery.
In 1924, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “We also did a small job at Manhattan, Kansas of $1,100.00.” It was York Rite scenery for the Masonic Temple.
From the “Manhattan Mercury,” 20 May 1922, page 2.
On Nov. 29, 1924, “The Morning Chronicle” announced, “Select Masters Degree to Four Candidates Tonight. New Scenery – Nine Drops and Four different scenes – to be used.” The article continued, “Four candidates will be given the Select Masters degree by the Masonic be the first to be performed by the Council tonight. The ceremony will council and the number of candidates was limited for that reason. There are about 25 candidates for the degree.
The new scenery for the temple arrived Thursday night and will be in position for the services tonight. The scenery consists of nine drops and four scenes. It is to be used by all the Masonic bodies.” The new scenery would be further described a year later when it was featured again. On June 30, 1925, “The Morning Chronicle,” reported “New scenery will be utilized.” The article continued, “A stunt night program in which all of Manhattan’s six Masonic orders will join is to be held in the Masonic Temple next Thursday evening…The occasion will afford a splendid opportunity to utilize the new scenery and lighting equipment to fine advantage.”
Moses’ work was well known in Manhattan, as Sosman & Landis delivered scenery to the new temple in 1922. On July 13 of that year the “Manhattan Nationalist” reported, “New Scenery Arrives. Drop Curtains Placed in Masonic Temple – to Confer Degree on Large Class.” The article reported, “The scenery which will be used by the Masonic in conferring the Most Excellent degree arrived Monday and has been put in position in the new Masonic temple. It is expected that it will be used the first time in conferring the degree upon a class of eight candidates from Wamego, who have signified their intention of coming to Manhattan for the ceremonies. The scenery was made by Sosman & Landis Scenic Co. of Chicago, one of the largest firms of this kind in the country and is considered a real work of art.”
The Sosman & Landis scenery was mentioned again the next year. In December 1923 the Royal Arch Masons conferred degrees on a class of 25 candidates from Manhattan and Wamego. “The Morning Chronicle” reported, “Historic hymns which are included in the ceremonial will be illustrated with lantern slides. The new scenery furnishing settings for degree work which was purchased and installed in the temple last year will be used in connection with the initiatory ceremonies.”
The original front curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas, 1907.
Original front curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas. Photograph from 2005.Painted detail from the original front curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas. Painted detail from the original front curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas.Painted detail from the original front curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas.Painted detail from the original front curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas.Painted detail from the original front curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas.Painted detail from the original front curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas.Painted detail from the original front curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas.
The painted replica, also delivered by the Twin City Scenic Co.
Replica curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas.Painted detail from the replica curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas.Painted detail from the replica curtain by the Twin City Scenic Co. for the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas.
For more scenes from the venue, keyword search “Brown Grand.”
In 1921 Thomas G. Moses landed the scenery contract for the Tacoma Scottish Rite. Of the project, he wrote, “It took some work to close the Tacoma job at $6,400.00. Will come back to do the work myself.” He was to start the Tacoma Scottish Rite project at the beginning of December 1921, but he had to put out a few fires before leaving Chicago that winter. Moses wrote, “I should have been back in Tacoma December 1st. I have written them on the cause of my delay.”
He had a very short period of time to accomplish a lot of tasks in the main studio before leaving town, and there were stops to make along the way. Too much to do in too little time; a theme that I am certainly familiar with these days. Moses and his wife did not leave Chicago until Dec. 13, spending a full day in Kansas City before continuing onto Los Angeles. Then there was another stop in San Francisco, where Moses took the boat across the bay and headed east to Stockton. He hoped to close another contract, but had no such luck.
Of his side trip to Stockton, Moses wrote, “Took the boat back again and left for the north the same day. We had a very pleasant trip. Found a lot of snow in the north on our arrival in Tacoma. We found our apartment all ready for us and it is very cozy.” He was in town to paint scenery for the Scottish Rite Theatre, but also planned on doing a little oil painting in his spare time. Moses, continued, “I found we needed another room for a studio, which I got, and it is going to be a good asset to my picture painting. The most glorious view of the mountain at sunrise, noon, sunset and an hour after sunset. I have finally got to work and while it is going to be a long job, I will enjoy doing it, and incidentally getting some good sketches of the mountain.”
His stay in Tacoma with Ella must have been a wonderful break from both travel and responsibilities associated Sosman & Landis. It was a new project, a new year, and he was surrounded by beautiful scenery. One of his favorite compositions to paint was the nearby Mount Rainier. In 1889, he recorded his first glimpse of the mountain, also known as Mount Shasta, writing, “My first view of Mt. Shasta I shall never forget. It was sunset and all the foreground and middle distance was in shadow. Made a rapid pencil sketch and have since painted it in watercolor and oil, with some success.”
Of his drop curtain from 1889, Moses wrote, “As I look at it now, it is hard to realize that I painted it 33 years ago. The scene is in Rome, “Temple of Minerva.” It has a richness of color that we are not able to get now on account of the inferiority quality of the colors. I found my old palette, which gave me a rather uncanny chill, to think that after so many years, it should be waiting for my return.”
Temple of Minerva Drop Curtain for the Tacoma Theatre, 1889-1890
The Temple of Minerva was a popular subject for nineteenth-century scene painters. In 1881, an article in “Building News and Engineering Journal,” listed the Temple of Minerva as one of the many compositions painted by scenic artists, showing their versatility of subject matter. The journal’s article was entitled, “Art on The Stage,” and it appeared in the issue on July 29, 1881. Here is an excerpt with the Temple of Minerva mention:
“Scene Painting is an art by itself. There is no other branch of painting just like it, either in the variety of subjects embraced or in the methods employed. The thorough scenic artist must be equally at home in landscape or marine work, architectural or fresco. He is not permitted to cultivate any particular branch of his art, nor any favorite style. He must be able to produce, at any time, the wild mountainous passes of Switzerland or the flat meadows of Holland; the green lanes of homelike England, or the winding valleys of romantic Spain. In his architectural work he cannot devote himself to the Gothic or the Romanesque, but must be equally master of the Moorish, the Greek, and the Oriental. He may to-day be called upon to paint the Temple of Minerva, and to-morrow the Mosque of Omar; this week the Windsor Hotel, and next week the Palace of Versailles. His art knows no boundaries, and his scope is confined by no limits. The universe must be at his command, and things unseen must live in his imagination. The methods by which he works and many of the materials he employs are altogether different from those employed by the ordinary oil or water-colour painter. They approach more nearly to those of the latter, yet even here certain qualities of the colours used by the scene-painter constitute a sharp dividing line.”
Moses’ Temple of Minerva Drop Curtain for the Tacoma Theater was also featured on the front page of “The Palette & Chisel” Club newsletter in 1917. It accompanied and article entitle, “Thomas G. Moses, All Round Scene Painter. His Work is Known from Coast to Coast.”
Here is the introductory paragraph that says so much about his scene painting work:
“Now this article is about an artist whose work has been viewed by more people that ever entered the Art Institute and the Metropolitan Museum since their doors were first opened….probably. And those people paid good round sums to get in where the artist’s work was displayed. You don’t believe that, now do you? Well, then, when I also tell you that this artist painted stage settings for Booth and Barrett, Thomas Keene, McCullough and all that ranting crew of Shakespearian heavies, you will get the pint, of course. And of course, you will think this is just another one of those anniversary obituaries dedicated to some duck that passed out about the time everyone was singing…well, whatever they were singing when real fur bearing men wore flannel night shirts.
Far from that howsumever, the gallant lad immortalized in this rhetorical garland is cheerfully employed just now in packing his sketching trunk for a paint spree in Zion National Park. And incidentally, going and coming he intends to put on the old corduroys with a brace of big theatrical contracts in Salt Lake City and Oakland, California. That is, this venerable old relic will paint the sets himself, and with Uncle Tom that means about ten hours a day on the paint bridge, and ninety days to each job. Isn’t it sad how fragile and inefficient these old timers are becoming! Tom says it bothers him a right smart now to paint a 45×50 drop in one day. What? Hell, no….FEET!”
When the article was written, Moses was sixty-one years old. Four years later in 1921, he was still working at a breakneck speed and tackling entire stock scenery projects.
I continue to explore the history of the earliest scenery painted for the Tabor Opera House between 1879 and 1882. Evelyn E. Livingston Furman was integral to the preservation of the scenery at the Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado. She was a good steward, one who safeguarded many stage artifacts throughout the building. Furman’s publication, “The Tabor Opera House, a Captivating History,” pieces together many loose ends regarding the early stage and stories about the Tabors. I have repeatedly returned to her work for the past few years, searching for additional clues. Gretchen Scanlon also explored the history of the Tabor Opera House in “A History of Leadville Theatres.” It is an insightful and entertaining publication about popular entertainment and a variety of performance venues in this rough mining town.
In my own writings about the Tabor Opera House, I try to rely on historic newspaper articles, understanding that there is always a margin of error with the retelling of any story. It is easy to jump to conclusions about history, trying to piece it together in a tidy progression of events. When I catch one of my own mistakes, I often go back to correct the error and update my writing; that is the beauty of a digital format, it becomes a living document. For today’s post, I followed a trail of breadcrumbs to Eugene Field, the son of attorney Roswell Field, best known for representing Dred Scott. ‘Gene Field became part of the Tabor story early on and was recently credited with painting the Royal Gorge drop. Spoiler alert: He was a writer and not a scene painter.
In regard to the earliest scenery installed at the Tabor Opera House, it is clear that both Furman and Scanlon relied on the same historic newspaper articles for sources. I have now located many of the same sources, as well as a few more. Unfortunately, neither Furman nor Scanlon cite specific sources in their works. This presents a challenge for others to further substantiate their claims.
In my continuing examination of early Tabor Opera House scenery, here is a recap. The original scenery, stage machinery and drop curtains were delivered by James E. Lamphere, scenic artist, and Mr. Barber, stage carpenter, in 1879. By August 1882, the building and stage were renovated. On August 23, 1882, the “Leadville Daily Herald” reported, “there will be a change for the better in regard to scenery, scene shifting and drop curtains. Those ridiculous hitches in scene shifting that have heretofore occurred on one or two occasions will no longer take place.” If the stage arrangements were bad enough to be changed within two years, it is unlikely that those responsible for the original arrangements were rehired. In fact , H. C. Sprague is credited as the stage carpenter for new arrangements. I have yet to locate any mention of a scenic artist, however, keep in my that many talented stage carpenters during this period could also paint, and paint well. The theatre industry was not as compartmentalized as it is now.
Furman also writes that the original roll curtain from the Leadville Tabor Opera House was taken to Denver for the premiere of “Silver Dollar.” In a later chapter Furman describes the original drop curtain’s composition but does not cite any source. Her description of the first drop curtain by Lamphere is identical to a similar description published in the “Leadville Weekly Herald” on Nov. 15, 1879: “The drop curtain is a masterpiece from the brush of Mr. Lamphere, and represents a glorious mountain scene, at the base of which is a fine old castle, with a stream running at the foot; alongside of the water is a rugged road, which ends in the winding of canyon” (page 3). Scanlon describes this same scene for the original drop curtain. It is improbable, however, that this curtain survived beyond the 1882 renovation; it was likely repainted or replaced well before the Elks purchased the building in 1901.
Furthermore, Scanlon writes that a second drop curtain that was delivered to the Tabor Opera House a few years after the venue opened; this timing would coincide with the 1882 renovation. Scanlon credits Gene Field with painting the second drop curtain that replaced the original, writing “A few years later, Tabor contracted to have a new drop curtain painted by Gene Field” (page 132). Scanlon goes onto explains that Field’s drop curtain depicted Royal Gorge, and it was still being used when the Elks enlarged the stage in 1902. Furman also writes about the Royal Gorge composition, but not as a replacement for the first drop curtain, just as another roll drop with a hefty price tag of $1,000. Furman includes the Royal Gorge drop as part of the original scenery painted by Lamphere. This is where it would have been extremely helpful if either author had cited any source in regard to the $1,000 expense or Gene Field as the scenic artist.
Of the Royal Gorge drop Scanlon continues: “It was taken down, and there was a great deal of debate over what should happen to it. Some thought that it should be hung in the Carnegie Library or donated to the Leadville Pioneers for safekeeping; others thought that the main part should be cut out, framed and hung in the opera house. The curtain stayed in the opera house. In 1932, it was lent to the Denver Theater for the premiere of the movie Silver Dollar, starring Edward G. Robinson, based on Tabor’s life. What happened to the curtain after that remains a mystery.”
Gene Field wasn’t an artist, he was a writer who wrote for various newspapers. In 1883, the “Larimer County Independent” reported, “Without Gene Field and the Tabor Opera House, Denver would be a barren waste” (Fort Collins, Colorado, 24 May 1883, page 2). Decades later, newspapers would reminisce about the relationship between Field and Tabor: “That the reputation of the Tabor Grand spread in ever widening circles during the early years of its history was due, in certain measure to the theater itself, but more, it is believed, to the stories about its personnel and players, written in the Denver Tribune between 1881 and 1883 by Eugene Field, who was earlier associated with the Kansas City Times, then in his twenties Field glorified in lampooning prominent people, particularly the newly rich. Mr. Tabor, his son Maxey and William Bush, first manager of the theaters, were his eternal targets. Copies of the tribune were demanded even in Mexico, London and Canada. So the Tabor Grand acquired far renown” (Springfield Leader and Press, Springfield, Missouri, 5 June 1921, page 8).
I located the source that connects Field with the Tabor Opera House drop curtain, but he was not noted as the scenic artist. On Jan. 1, 1903, the “Herald Democrat” reported, “There is a story about Tabor and this curtain which may or may not be true, but it is worth repeating. Gene Field was originally responsible for it.” Field was not responsible for the painting of the drop, but the telling of the story about Tabor and the drop. The 1903 article continues to share the story, as originally told by Field:
“It is said that when Tabor got the curtain, the artist had painted a portrait of the late William Shakespeare for a centerpiece. Shakespeare, the artist thought, was a proper person to pose for a picture symbolical of the thespian art to which the building was to be devoted. When Tabor saw the picture he is said to have asked whose picture that was. “Why, that’s Shakespeare,” said the artist. “Who the — is Shakespeare?” roared Tabor. “Take his face out of that if you want to make a portrait gallery of the curtain, put my picture there.”
Five years earlier, “The Saint Paul Globe” shared a similar on January 23, 1898:
“It was when the building had been completed and the artist was painting the drop curtain that Tabor came in. As he watched the progress of the work, he asked the artist: “Whose picture is that which you are painting in the center of the curtain?”
“Shakespeare,” replied the artist.
“Who is Shakspeer?” asked the future senator.
“Why,” said the artist, “he is a great man who has written the greatest plays – the Bard of Avon, you know.”
“Shakspeer?” said Tabor. “Seems to me I’ve heard the name somewhere. But what in thunder has Shakspeer done for Leadville!”
“Nothing that I know of,” said the artist.
“Then paint that picture out and put me in.” And that is the way Tabor’s picture came to be in the drop curtain.”
Here is an earlier version from 1890 that appeared in the “Norfolk Virginian” (12 Nov. 1890, page 8) and the “Pittsburgh Press (9 Nov. 1890, page 12). The heading for the article in the “Norfolk Virginian” was “Not Acquainted with Shakespeare.” The heading for the article in the “Pittsburgh Press” was “Senator Tabor’s Drop Curtain.” The story for each was identical:
“When the building was completed he hired an artist to paint some suitable designs on the drop curtain. The artist did so. While the finishing touches were being put on, the Governor and Senator ambled into the building and inquired:
“Who’s picter’s that?” Shakespeare’s,” meekly replied the successor of Raphael.
“Who’s Shakespeer?”
“Why, he’s the standard author of tragedy and drama – the Bard of Avon you know.”
“Shakespeer, Shakespeer’ seems to me I’ve heerd the name summer, but what in thunder has he done for Leadville?”
“Nothing that I know of.”
“Then paint the picter out and put mine in.”
And it was done, and Tabor’s picture remains there to this day.”
The story was again repeated at the time of Tabor’s passing in 1899, but Tabor’s portrait was no longer on the drop curtain. His portrait was painted on the proscenium arch; this is what I have proposed in past posts, as Tabor’s portrait would remain visible throughout a performance, whereas a drop curtain scene is raised at beginning of a production. The following article was originally published in the “New Orleans Times-Democrat,” but quickly spread all across the country and appeared in many other newspapers. Here is the article in the “Sacramento Bee” from May 13, 1899:
“Soon after the late Senator H. A. W. Tabor, of Colorado, made his first million,” said a former resident of the Silver State, “he built an opera house at Leadville. It was a very fine building for the day and place, and with characteristic liberality he determined to spare nothing in its appointments. Among other experts he engaged an extremely competent New York artist named De Moro to do the decorations and gave him absolute carte blanch. This greatly pleased the painters, and he did a remarkably fine piece of work. When the job was completed he sent for Tabor to inspect it, and the latter was delighted with everything until he looked at the proscenium arch, in the center of which was a superb medallion portrait of Shakespeare. “Who is that fellow, anyhow?” asked the new millionaire, frowning ominously. “That is William Shakespeare,” replied De Moro, in surprise. ‘Well, he didn’t have a blamed thing to do with building this theater,’ said Tabor, sternly. ‘Rub him out and put me in.’ The artist was furious and adopted a unique method of getting even. Tabor wore an enormous purple-black moustache, which always had the appearance of being imperfectly dyed, and De Moro proceeded to duplicate the weird armament on the upper lip of the bard of Avon. He then painted in a standing collar and red cravat, labeled the ghastly composite ‘Hon. H. A. W. Tabor,’ and went back to New York, cursing everything in Colorado. The De Moro portrait stood unchanged for many years and was regarded by frontier art critics as a speaking likeness.
‘Up to middle age Tabor’s life was one of great hardship,’ continued the Westerner, “and when he suddenly became fabulously rich he plunged into luxuries like a starving man wading into a banquet. One of his early freaks was the purchase of several magnificent lace nightgowns, which cost $1000 apiece and which he kept locked up in a safe during the day. Eugene Field was editor of the Denver Tribune at the time, and those lace nightgowns made him simply hysterical. He wrote columns upon columns about them, describing the garments in detail, with numerous diagrams depicting sections fore and aft. The diagrams were hideous affairs, which Field carved out himself with a penknife on the back of old wood type. He used to describe how Tabor would forget the combination of the safe and sit up, shivering and naked, half the night trying to remember the right figures. Although he kept Denver in a roar for weeks, and made Tabor so wild that one day he rushed into his office, snatched the unfortunate nightgowns out of their compartment and tore them to thread. “There, now!” he exclaimed, wiping his forehead and kicking the tattered fragments into a corner. ‘I hope than cussed fool will be satisfied. I’ll be hanged if I ain’t going to get a gunny sack,’ he continued, ‘cut some holes in the end for my head and arms, and then sleep in it for the rest of my life!”
“When Tabor was appointed to the Senate to fill an unexpired term of exactly twenty-nine days, Field broke loose again and had all kinds of fun with the old man. He declared that Tabor opposed the tariff bill on the ground that it encouraged lawlessness in the West. ‘I don’t know this Tariff Bill,’ he reported the Senator as saying in a speech, ‘but we have entirely too many of ‘em out where I live. There’s Wild Bill and Buffalo Bill and Pecos Bill and Billy the Kid – all no good. If you let Tariff Bill have anything to do with the Custom House he’s liable to steal the Atlantic Ocean.’ Many of the honest folk took these flights of fancy seriously, and drove Tabor nearly distracted by long letters of remonstrance, urging him to read up and get posted, so as to not disgrace the State. At the expiration of the Senator’s brief term he circulated an autograph album among his fellow-members and the incident tickled Filed immensely. He gave what purported to be a copy of the ‘sentiment’ inscribed in the volume by the different statesman – such things as ‘When you see this remembers me. Roscoe Conkling.’ And ‘Sure as the moss grows ‘round a stump you are my darling sugar lump – I mean chump – Geo F. Hoar,’ and similar nonsense, all of which maddened his victim. I think Gene Field was the only man Tabor never forgave, for in spit of his gaunt, forbidding exterior, the miner magnate was as tender-hearted as a girl. He was really full of sterling qualities, and in his proper sphere he would have been anything but grotesque. One thing is sure – if every fellow he helped in secret would have joined his funeral procession the other day he would have gone to his grave like an Emperor of old.”
Railroads hired a variety of nineteenth century artists to paint scenes that would entice western travel.
In 1886, James Edgar Lamphere painted a drop curtain for DeRemer’s Opera House in Pueblo, Colorado. The drop was presented to Mr. DeRemer by the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad. In essence, it was an advertising curtain for their scenic line that passed the Curecanti Needle. This is the first mention that I have encountered of a railroad marketing their services on a drop curtain. It is possible that they also presented a drop curtain depicting Royal Gorge to H. A. W. Tabor for his opera house in Leadville, just a few years earlier.
The DeRemer drop curtain gives insight into a new form of marketing for the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad (D&RG). On February 3, 1886, the “Colorado Daily Chieftain” reported, “the most attractive thing to strike the eye upon entering the house is the beautiful drop curtain, presented to Mr. DeRemer by the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad, and we unhesitantly say that the Scenic Line of America never got up a better of more beautiful shipment. The scene from which the drop is painted is on the line of the Rio Grande road in the Black Canon, and is known as Curranti [sic.] Needle, being a tall, majestic, needle-like spur of rock standing high above all the surrounding mountains. It is a pretty scene, and Mr. Lamphere, the artist who did all the work can be proud of it. The scenic scene is in the center of the curtain. On each side is shown as banner, and a close inspection will show a brief inscription on each banner tells what the scene is. The curtain is about twenty-four feet high by thirty-three feet wide.”
The Denver & Rio Grande Railroad tracks passing the Curecanti Needle.
A few years earlier, the Tabor Opera House acquired a drop that featured Royal Gorge, likely during the 1882 stage renovation. It was noted as the venue’s second drop curtain, valued at $1000; a hefty sum for the time. Royal Gorge was located on the Leadville branch of the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad (Western Magazine, Vol. 4, page 176). The first drop curtain for the Tabor Opera House in 1879 was painted by Lamphere and described in the “Leadville Weekly Herald.” The article described, “The drop curtain is a masterpiece from the brush of Mr. Lamphere, and represents a glorious mountain scene, at the base of which is a fine old castle, with a stream running at the foot; alongside of the water is a rugged road, which ends in the winding of canyon” (page 3). This was very standard and appropriate composition for the time, harkening back to an old world with European castles in the distance.
The second drop curtain delivered to the Tabor Opera House depicting Royal Gorge was an unusual central composition for the time, especially when placed it within the context of other nineteenth-century drop curtain descriptions. It is interesting to note that the drop curtains for both DeRemer Opera House and the Tabor Opera House featured a specific scene along the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad. Both the DeRemer Opera House and the Tabor Opera House had scenery painted by Lamphere, also establishing a connection. When placed within the context of railroad companies hiring artists to produce large-scale artworks that inspire travel, this make sense; the captivating scenes functioned as unique advertisement for a particular railroad line.
In 1870, the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad (D&RG) started as a 3 ft. narrow-gauge line running south from Denver, Colorado. It’s first run in 1871 was between Denver and Fountain Colony, later known as Colorado Springs. By the late 1870s, the D&RG and the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railway commenced in a bitter dispute over right of way. In 1874, the D&RG railway extended west, linking Pueblo and Cañon City, and by March 1880, the D&RG paid an exorbitant sum for track that extended through the Arkansas River’s Royal Gorge. This acquisition is likely what prompted the creation of the Royal Gorge drop for the Tabor Opera House.
The D&RG’s construction of this route provided quick access to Salida by May 20, 1880, and Leadville later that same year. The railway connection between Leadville and Denver, greatly eased Tabor’s travel while he planned his second opera house in Denver; the Tabor Grand opened in 1881. From Salida westward, the D&RG railway continued over the Continental Divide at Marshall pass, and after passing Gunnison entered the Black Canyon. It was at this point along the Gunnison river that travelers passed the Curecanti Needle, a 700-ft. granite spire pictured on the DeRemer Opera House drop curtain in 1886.
Curecanti Needle along the Gunnison RiverThe Curecanti Needle pictured in the center.
The Denver & Rio Grande even adopted the Curecanti Needle as a symbol of their Royal Gorge route, referring to this line as “The Scenic Line of the World.” By the mid-1880s, D&RG had the largest narrow-gauge railroad in North America. The Curecanti Needle remained a popular landmark with Denver & Rio Grande passengers until the 1950s, when service was ended through the Black Canyon.
The D&RG formed a transcontinental bridge line between Denver and Salt Lake City, operating the highest mainline rail in the United States. It was this line that theatre companies used, transporting theatrical productions and artists between the Tabor Grand Opera House and the Salt Lake Theatre. This also ties back to career of Henry C. Tryon, scenic artist for the Tabor Grand Opera House, who left Denver to work in Salt Lake City from 1882 to 1884.
1886 map for the Denver & Rio Grande RailroadDetail of the section near Gunnison with the Curecanti Needle.1886 map for the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad
On Dec. 24, 1879, an article in the “Chicago Tribune” described the mining town of Leadville, Colorado, and the newly constructed Tabor Opera House. The opera house was described in detail under the heading, “The Legitimate Theatre” and mentioned a portrait of H. A. W. Tabor painted over the drop curtain. Here is a section from the article:
“It had often been asserted that only low variety-shows could flourish, and that a first-class theatre could not be supported. Lieut.-Gov. Tabor, W. H. Bush and others of our leading citizens, having a better faith, accepted the challenge, erected a substantial and ornate building, supplied it with all the required fixtures and appliances, seated it with the latest improved opera chairs from the shops of your A. H. Andrews & Co., and finally engaged a first-class company; marshaled by Colorado’s favorite actor, J. S. Langrishe, and, with the genial Lou C. Leonard as Treasurer, they opened it several weeks ago. Full houses have ever since greeted the players and indorsed the enterprise. The auditorium, without having the florid gildings of many Easter cities, is neat, graceful and complete,- the only defacement being a picture of Gov. Tabor over the drop curtain, which is rather a caricature than a portrait” (page 9).
The wording of the last sentence is important: “a picture of Gov. Tabor over the drop curtain.” The article does not state his portrait was painted on the drop curtain, but over the drop curtain. This suggests that the portrait was painted on a grand border, sounding board, or mural above the proscenium arch; something permanently positioned above the drop curtain. This also mean that the portrait was visible throughout a performance and at all times, which in many ways closely adheres to the public recognition sought out by Tabor at the time.
A Portrait of H. A. W. Tabor in 1883. From the Denver Public Library Digital Collection. Here is the link: https://digital.denverlibrary.org/digital/collection/p15330coll22/id/17428
Years later, tales would tell that Tabor insisted his portrait replace that of Shakespeare before the Tabor Opera House opened to the public, making the scenic artist repaint the central medallion.
Including a portrait of Shakespeare in a nineteenth-century American opera house or theater legitimized the venue; a practice that was still in place until the early twentieth century. Shakespeare was even placed on the sounding board above the proscenium arch at the Matthews Opera House in Spearfish, South Dakota, 1906.
When the Tabor Opera House opened in 1879, there were other examples of Shakespeare portraits placed over a drop curtains across the country. One example includes fresco work about the proscenium at the Academy of Music in Akron, Ohio; it included a portrait of Shakespeare.
For additional context, a grand border curtain frequently included a central medallion featuring something significant. At the Salt Lake Theatre, the border curtain’s central medallion included a beehive. On border curtains for other theaters, Shakespeare’s portrait was painted in the center medallion, visually reinforcing the legitimacy of the venue in producing classical works. Keep in mind that the Tabor Opera House was constructed in 1879 and noted as Leadville’s only legitimate theater that fall. A portrait of Shakespeare on the grand border of the opera house would have been extremely appropriate for the new venue.
There is one other factor to consider when contemplating the placement of Tabor’s portrait on a scenic piece. The border curtain was often permanently fixed, positioned in the upper third of the proscenium opening. It provided the much-needed masking for overhead machinery and border lights. Although the drop curtain greeted the audience as they took their seats, it was raised when a performance commenced; ideally out of sight. Even after the Tabor Opera House was renovated in 1902, the grand border still included a central medallion, just without a portrait. However, between 1879 and 1901 the grand border was repainted before being replaced in 1902 after the stage was renovated.
Newspapers would mention the opening of Tabor’s theatrical investment in Leadville, with the common tag line “finest theatre in the west.” On May 5, 1880, the “Greenville Democrat” reported, “The Tabor Opera House was built by Gov. Tabor, who, a few years ago, worked by day with pick and shovel, right where Leadville now stands; but as Leadvillians say, “he struck it,” and to-day the Governor is worth $7,000,000. The Governor is not extraordinarily smart, and is no in office on that account, but his pocket-book was elected” (page 2). Newspaper would later observe, “Without time of any preparation to grow accustomed to the possession of unlimited wealth (contrasted with his former condition), he has made the mistake of supposing that his money could buy public opinion and recognition favorable to any freak he may see fit to indulge in” (Democrat and Chronicle, Rochester, New York, 9 June 1883, page 4).
Tabor increasingly fell outside of societal norms after he left his first wife for local actress Baby Doe. He was able to secure many things with his new wealth, but could not buy the respect of others, especially those who envied his wealth and position. This caused a toxic situation for Tabor, casting a poor light on both Tabor and his projects. He became the recipient of jabs across the country. Almost two decades after the completion of the Tabor Opera House, a story appeared in newspapers across the country about Tabor’s portrait in the original opera house. I believe that this is when the story changed, placing Tabor’s portrait on the drop curtain.
On January 23, 1898, “The Saint Paul Globe” shared the following tale:
“Tabor’s Opera house has long passed out of his hands, and also the Tabor block. His opera house in Leadville is no longer his, and I am not sure his picture is still left on the drop curtain. It was there at a time for any rate, and the way in which it was put there forms the subject of the story I heard yesterday. It was when the building had been completed and the artist was painting the drop curtain that Tabor came in. As he watched the progress of the work, he asked the artist: “Whose picture is that which you are painting in the center of the curtain?”
“Shakespeare,” replied the artist.
“Who is Shakspeer?” asked the future senator.
“Why,” said the artist, “he is a great man who has written the greatest plays – the Bard of Avon, you know.”
“Shakspeer?” said Tabor. “Seems to me I’ve heard the name somewhere. But what in thunder has Shakspeer done for Leadville!”
“Nothing that I know of,” said the artist.
“Then paint that picture out and put me in.” And that is the way Tabor’s picture came to be in the drop curtain.
Also, for the untrained eye, an audience member might not be able to discern between the painted grand border and the drop curtain. The two would complement each other beautifully, and may be considered one complete composition, not two scenic pieces.
Finally, the original drop curtain was described in 1879 when the Tabor Opera House opened, and there was no mention of Tabor’s portrait in the middle of the composition.
On November 15, 1879, the “Leadville Weekly Herald” described, “The drop curtain is a masterpiece from the brush of Mr. Lamphere, and represents a glorious mountain scene, at the base of which is a fine old castle, with a stream running at the foot; alongside of the water is a rugged road, which ends in the winding of canyon” (page 3).
