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Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 378 – 1899, Theatrical Scene Painting and Homer Emens, second half

Part 378: 1899, Theatrical Scene Painting and Homer Emens, second half

The article “Theatrical Scene Painting” was published in “The Philadelphia Inquirer” on August 20, 1899, by James Clarence Hyde (page 46). Here is the second half of the article posted yesterday:

Homer Emens pictured on the paint bridge, from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.

“Mr. Emens, whose ancestors, by the way, were among the earliest Dutch settlers of New York, devoted several weeks to looking up authorities in the libraries, both public and private, and making the preliminary sketches. The scenario called for a drop showing the exterior of Peter Stuyvesant’s house; an interior of Whitehall, the Governor’s mansion; the old fort at the Battery and an exterior view of Whitehall. The play is in three acts and four scenes. Mr. Emens’ next step was to make the models.

Homer Emens pictured next to the model for “Peter Stuyvesant,” from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.

Sketch for the play “Peter Stuyvesant,” from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.

A model looks very much like a toy theatre with the proscenium arch omitted. It is built on the scale of half an inch to the foot. In making these Mr. Emens is guided to a certain extent by the scene plot, a written and roughly drawn plan showing the entrances, exits, set pieces and the like that are required in the action of the play. This is outlined by the authors. In making the models as much care with regard to the details is taken as with the proposed scenery. Ever leaf and every stone is painted in watercolor.

The stage carpenters at work on scenery for “Peter Stuyvesant,” from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.

Upon the completion of these models duplicates are made to guide the scene builder. In the construction of this it is important to observe simplicity, so that the entire scene can be set up, or “struck,” in a few minutes. The models for the “Peter Stuyvesant” sets were turned over to Claude Hagan, an experienced scene builder. Some time elapsed before his work was completed and then the scenery, or rather, the unpainted canvas mounted upon skeleton frames, was sent to the Fourteenth Street Theatre, where Mr. Emens does his work.

Stage carpenters at work securing fabric for painting, from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.

The pictures taken at the Fourteenth Street Theatre expressly for the Inquirer, give an excellent idea of how things look in Mr. Emens’ workshop. The artist, you see, needs a good deal of room. He requires not only the paint bridge and paint frames, but the entire stage. The paint bridge is suspended forty or fifty feet above the rear of the stage. It is about ten feet wide and there are no protecting rails to prevent the artist or his assistants from stepping off into space. At one end of the bridge is the studio where the models are constructed; at the other end are the shelves where the supply of paint is kept. The paints are not mixed with oil, as many people imagine, but with “size,” or diluted glue. On either side of the paint bridge hangs a massive frame, big enough to hold any “drop” (the background of a scene) that may be desired. These frames are lowered to and hoisted from the stage by means of a windlass. This is where the scenic artist’s junior apprentice gets in his fine work and acquires a muscle that is useful later in life. Scenery is usually classified as drops (the backgrounds), wings (the side-pieces), borders (the cross pieces overhead), and set pieces (such as a fort or a bridge). This is the first step in preparing the scenery is, of course, to have it placed upon the frames by the boss stage carpenter and his assistants. The frame is lowered to the stage and the scenery nailed on, as shown in one of the pictures. Then it is hoisted to the level of the bridge and the painting begins. Another picture gives an excellent idea of this. You will observe Mr. Emens in the foreground at the drawing board. Back of him, at his left, is an assistant sketching in outline a border. In his right hand he holds a long stick to which a piece of charcoal is fastened, in his left the model of the border. Preliminary to this work the canvas had to be “primed,” that is, painted white, and then the body color was laid on. On Mr. Emen’s right another assistant is seen painting a drop, while near by a third is mixing the colors on a very substantial palette. In the background the junior assistant is busy with the pots of paint.

One would probably wonder how such great effects are accomplished with the artist so near to the canvas.

How does he get his idea – of perspective – of atmosphere? The only answer to this is long years of study and experience. When the scenery is painted it is lowered to the stage. But there is still more to be done. In the case of a leafy border, for instance, the ragged outlines of the leaves have been marked with a thin red line, and all the intervening canvas has to be carefully cut out. In a third picture taken upon the stage, showing the carpenters and one of the artists at work upon a set piece, you will notice at the left, flat upon the stage looking a good deal like a mosaic floor, a piece of scenery. It is one of the borders, and from the canvas-littered stage you may know that busy hands with sharp knives have been cutting it out. This picture shows the boss carpenter seated at the right of the model of the old fort at the Battery in his lap. His assistants are fitting the fort together. The underpinning of the painted fort is strong enough to support several people, but it is so carefully constructed that it can be taken apart and placed flat against the wall in less than three minutes.

Perhaps in these few words an idea has been conveyed of the great amount of skill and labor required in preparing scenery for the stage, much has been necessarily left unsaid; the difficulty of getting up elaborate interiors, the use of stencils, the construction of practical waterways and a thousand and one things that a scene painter must know. He must combine the knowledge of a landscape artist of the first order, and architect and a builder. He must posses more than the ordinary patience, and then if he is a good business man he will have the happy consolation of a substantial bank account, even if the public are slow to accord him the glory that is his due.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 365 – “How Theatrical Scenery is Made,” 1898 (scale models, part 2)

Part 365: “How Theatrical Scenery is Made,” 1898 (scale models, part 2)

Below is an article depicting Joseph A. Physioc’s studio in New York, published in “The World” during 1898 (March 6, page 43). It provides great insight into the scenic art profession and design process at the end of the nineteenth century. Here is the second of four installments:

“The average person who goes to the theatre and is delighted and amazed with the beauties of the settings has the most shadowy idea of how they are brought about. He cannot grasp the enormous amount of work involved.

When a scenic artist is engaged to make the settings for a new production. The play itself is first read to him, or he may be permitted to read and study the play for himself. The manager determines how elaborate the scenes are to be.

The scenic artist is supposed to be able to roam over the wide world. He must know how a bungalow looks in India and make himself familiar with the vegetable life and foliage of the country. He must go research back in ancient Egypt of into modern Africa. He must know architecture and the habits and life of the people who appear in the play.

Of course the scenic painter carries these things and a thousand others that he must know in his head. But he must know where to turn for them. Sometimes the research requires months.

Then he must carefully study the action of the play and make all allowances for any business that is of more or less importance. He must preserve the harmonies. For instance, the surroundings of the romantic play like “Under the Red Robe” would be entirely different from a pastoral play, although they might be held in the same place. That which is called the optique de theatre must be preserved.

The scenic artist must so design the scenery that it may be easily handled, and above all, every piece must be so made that it will pass through a door of 9 feet 6 inches. That is the size of doors of baggage cars, and it is expected that every play will “go on the road.”

Physioc is now working upon the scenery for “The Bonnie Brier Bush,” and it serves as an excellent opportunity to illustrate the method of preparing for a big production.

After reading the play, he secured pictures of Drumtochty – actual photographs. He secured photographs of the houses and the furnishings. He read up on the manners of the people and made sure about the tables and chairs and the clocks and all manner of things.

Having gathered his material he prepared to lay out the scenes. First he drew a sketch on a piece of paper – a rough pencil sketch. Some of the minor interior scenes he worked out swiftly enough. The more important scenes were studied over for a long time. A day was spent over the final sketch of the third set scene, which is the most effective of the play.

Then he set about making the model, and this is the most important part of the whole process. It is an exact miniature representation of the scene as it will appear on stage.

It shows the Drumtochty in the background, spanned by bridges. In the middle ground the road apparently sinks into a depression. On the right is a hill, on the left a rye field surrounded by a stone fence.

The first difficult thing is perspective. Stage perspective is absolutely false, according to the rules of art and optics. But it is true to itself. The reason lies in the flat stage. The base line cannot conform to the line of vision. Therefore it is necessary to make an imaginary base line some five feet above the real line.

The color scheme is less important from the first. Your scenic painter must paint one scene to meet all manner of meteorological conditions. In this particular scene the action opens in the morning, late in midsummer. The mist is rising from the river and the mountains. This effect is secured by means of gauze and screens. Then the sun shines in splendor. Everything is bright and brilliant. The rye n the field is waving, the leaves in the trees are rustling. The lights are largely responsible for this effect.

Then a tremendous mountain storm breaks forth in darkness and fury. Again are the lights is to be depended upon, but the scenery must be so painted that the lights can be effective.

The rear drop is made to bear the burden. It is translucent. Throwing a light in front with the back dark makes one effect. A light back of the drop produces another. Wherefore it will be seen that the painting of these drops is a silicate matter. They must be effective, artistic, and have a similitude of truth under wholly different conditions.

Physioc finishes his models very carefully. He makes them to a scale of three-quarters of an inch to a foot. Every tree is in its place and painted carefully. The foliage is cut out exactly, as it is in a finished scene. And this is the only work that the artist does not do himself.

The finished model is firmly supported on a frame. It is about three and a half feet long. Then it is taken to the miniature stage for the final test. It is slipped in place and it only remains to turn on the lights.

In order to carry out the illusion, this little stage has a proscenium arch. It has footlights of different colors and all manner of other lights, including a calcium effect. The lights can be regulated so that any degree of brilliancy may be had. Physioc has established an electric-light plant of his own, simply for his miniature stage.

The switchboard is exactly like that in a theatre. It is much bigger than the stage itself. There are red lights, blue lights, combinations giving the effect of dawn, of early morning, of high noon, of dusk, of night, of storm and moonlight, every possible thing in the way of lighting on a stage is shown with this model. Nothing is left to guess work. It is perfectly demonstrated how a finished scene will look. If there is anything wrong, it can be corrected.

If you ever look at scenery at close range, you will understand what an advantage this miniature is. Physioc has found this device, which is his own invention, of enormous value. Often he has torn a model apart because the test showed that it was not satisfactory.

If the model meets with approval, then the making of the actual scenery begins. Of course the rear drop is the first thing painted, as this dominates the whole setting.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 342 – “The Artist in the Flies,” First Half

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued…

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

Scottish Rite stage setting in Yankton, South Dakota. Originally painted in 1898, two years after the article was written for the newspaper. This is a Sosman & Landis installation.

Scottish Rite stage setting in Yankton, South Dakota. Stage left side with Rick Boychuk taking photos for research (he provides scale).

Scottish Rite stage setting in Yankton, South Dakota. Looking toward stage right side.

Scottish Rite stage setting in Yankton, South Dakota. JBM tomb back.

Scottish Rite stage setting in Yankton, South Dakota. JBM tomb front.

Scottish Rite stage setting in Yankton, South Dakota. Stage left side and counterweight system.

Scottish Rite stage setting in Yankton, South Dakota. 1898 flat construction.

Scottish Rite stage setting in Yankton, South Dakota. Front of flat.

Scottish Rite stage setting in Yankton, South Dakota. Detail of painting. Sosman & Landis Studio, 1898.

Scottish Rite stage setting in Yankton, South Dakota. Detail of wooden batten at bottom of the drop. Sosman & Landis installation, 1898.

Scottish Rite stage setting in Yankton, South Dakota. Detail of netted edge. Sosman & Landis installation, 1898.

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Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 341 – Green Room Gossip From 1895, the Scenic Artist

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

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

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

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

Heading from the Times-Picayune (New Orleans, Louisiana, February 10, 1895, page 22) that details activities related to the theatre.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 340 – Captive on the Carousel of Time

Part 340: Captive on the Carousel of Time

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

Thomas G. Moses painting on a drop curtain, date unknown. Image from the Thomas G. Moses scrapbook. Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas – Austin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 256 – Thomas G. Moses Painting Scenery for the Ben-Hur Tableaux and Pantomime

In 1892, Moses recorded that he found some work with Will F. Hamilton. They were making models and scenery for a production of Ben-Hur. Moses would eventually leave the Sosman & Landis studio, forming a partnership with Hamilton, then moving to New York in 1900. About “Ben-Hur” Moses wrote, “I enjoyed this work – very interesting. This was before the story was dramatized. It was to be done as a tableaux and pantomime.”

This is the publication for the touring production with scenery designed and painted by Thomas G. Moses.

“Ben-Hur” in Dramatic Tableaux and Pantomime was arranged by Lew Wallace for Messrs. Clark & Cox and based on the author’s “Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ” (1880, Harper & Brothers). In an attempt to make his popular novel even more profitable, Wallace licensed his literary property to business managers and formed a tableau company for the purpose of presenting an adaptation of the novel for commercial purposes. This created a significant new and authorized market for the phenomenon. The author insisted on maintaining control and this is what differentiated this endeavor from previous ones of publications such as “The Last Days of Pompeii,” “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” and “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.” This was also on a much grander scale than previous tableaux popularized throughout the 1880s. In many ways, Wallace’s endeavor was unprecedented for a licensed literary property in the 1890s and was not terminated even after the appearance of Klaw & Erlanger’s production of “Ben-Hur” that opened at the Broadway Theatre on November 29, 1899. For the Broadway opening, Wallace was the special guest of honor. Interestingly, the Broadway production was designed by Moses’ long-time friend Ernest Albert (see past installment #137 that includes images from the souvenir program).

The first page of “Ben-Hur in Dramatic Tableaux and Pantomime” with the first Act opening with the Meeting of the Three Wise Men. Thomas G. Moses created a model for Gen. Lew Wallace and later painted the scenery for his production.

Here is the division of scenes for “Ben-Hur in Dramatic Tableaux and Pantomime” in its entirety:

Act I

Scene 1 – Meeting of the Three Wise Men

Scene II – Joseph and Mary at the Joppa Gate

Scene III – The Three Wise Men at the Damascus Gate

Scene IV – The Three in the Palace before Herod

Scene V – Ben-Hur and Messala in the Garden

Scene VI – Street in Jerusalem

Scene VII – Deck of a Roman Trireme. Arrius and Ben-Hur in Conversation

Scene VIII – Entrance Gate of the Grove of Daphne

Scene IX – The Fountain of Castalia

Scene X – The Orchard of Palms

Scene XI – Door of Ilderim’s Tent

Scene XII – Same Interior of Tent

Scene XIII – Iras and Ben-Hur on the Lake at the Orchard of Palms

Scene XIV – Interior of Simonide’s House

Scene XV – Saloon in the Palace on the Island

End of Act – The Chariot Race

Tableaux – The Chariot Race

Act II

Scene I – A Splendid Atrium in a Roman Place

Scene II – Desolate Home of the Hurs. The Gates of the South Side. Bright Moonlight

Scene III – The Well En-Rogel

Scene IV – The Road-side between Bethany and Jerusalem east of Mount Olivet

Scene V – On the Roof of the Restored Palace of the Hurs

Scene VI – In a Summer House on the Roof

Scene VII – The Shadow of the Cross

Scene VII I– Chamber in the Villa by Misenum

End of the Second Act

Transformation, Iras Story of the Nile

Scene 1 – Iras relating the story

Scene 2 – The Nile – Sphynx – Pyramids

Scene 3 – Opening of the Lotus Flower

Scene 4 – The Temples of Egypt

Scene 5 – The Priestesses of Isis and Osiris

In the January 4, 1893 issue of the “Wichita Daily Beacon” (page 4), the Amusements section reported on the production of “Ben Hur,” under the management of Messrs. Clark & Cox, “who have won remarkable success in the larger cities of the east.” The article noted “’Ben Hur’ is presented in the form of a spectacular pantomime, beautiful, impressive, refined, sanctioned and approved by Gen. Lew Wallace, author of Ben Hur. A special car load of scenery, painted by Chicago artist, Thomas G. Moses, representing historic scenes in Jerusalem and the Holy Land, will be brought to Wichita.” The article went on to describe that there were “twenty-two scenes of surpassing beauty” and that 150 people took part in the living tableaux.

On May 10, 1896, “The Nashville American” published and article “Scenes of the Orient” that described the scenery painted by Moses for the Ben-Hur production (Part 2, Vol. XX, No. 7123, pages 9 to 16). The Woman’s Board of Tennessee Centennial were preparing for the production of the “grand spectacular, Ben Hur at the Vendome beginning the week of May 18.“

The article noted, “The scenery used is from the brush of the celebrated scenic artist Thomas G. Moses, of the Schiller Theatre, Chicago, and the subject of the play itself offers for spectacular effects the best opportunity of any amateur production ever had in Nashville. Rapidly shifting scenes will pass before the eyes of those who have taken delight in reading Gen. Lew Wallace’s incomparable tale of Ben Hur.

The play will begin in the lonely desert where the Magi meet, Joseph and Mary will appear at the Joppa Gate, and the Wise Men will arrive at the Damascus Gate in search of him who is to be born King of the Jews. The appearance of these men before Herod and all the Bible story will be vividly presented. The scenes will again shift, and Ben Hur will be introduced in all the beauty and strength of his youth. The succeeding scenes will carry him through the thrilling experiences of the tale, from the home of happy companionship to the sad position of a galley slave.

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

Even in 1899, the same year that Klaw “Erlanger’s Braodway production opened, Moses’ contribution was still noted in newspaper publications as the production continued to tour. The “Harrisburg Star-Independent (Feb 10, 1899, page 2) published “Thomas G. Moses of Chicago, an artist of national repute, with two assistants, worked for a whole year on the scenery employed in the production, which is conceded to be the finest of its kind ever shown in America.”

Well, it might have taken Moses a whole year to finish the scenery as he was juggling numerous projects throughout the duration of the year, but this was not his sole focus during his employment in 1892.

To be continued…

One of many published images illustrating the chariot race described by Gen. Lew Wallace in “Ben-Hur.”

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 231 – Thomas G. Moses and the Broadway Theatre in Denver, Colorado

Moses returned to Chicago on April 20, 1890 after being away from for seven months. Moses wrote, “My little family was certainly glad to see me back, as I was to get back. Seven months is a long time to stay away – a big change in all of the children. I was strange to them for some-time.” The four children were still little and must have grown considerably during his absence. Seven years earlier Moses had already commented on his extended absences, writing in 1883, “It was hard on Ella and I felt I was neglecting her a good deal, but I couldn’t see any other way to progress.” At the time, he was referring to his working in the scenic studio, taking art classes, and leaving for sketching trips. I often wonder about his regrets later in life when he realized just how many moments he missed while his children were growing up.

Even after his seven-month absence, however, Moses could only remain in Chicago for a few days rest. Soon the studio sent him to Denver, Colorado. He was sent there to close a contract with the Broadway Theatre. The theatre was to be part of the new Metropole Hotel. Designed by Chicago architect Col. J. W. Wood, the hotel was one of the first “fireproof” hotels in the country, employing hollow clay fired tile units for all partition, floors, ceilings, and walls.

The Metropole Hotel and Broadway Theatre where Thomas G. Moses painted scenery in 1890. Photograph by Louis Charles McClure, Denver Public Library/Western History Collection, MCC-1055.

Part of the hotel included a performance venue. The Broadway Theater was also advertised as the first “fireproof theatre” in the West and opened on August 18. Look’s Opera Company performed the “Bohemian Girl.”

The Broadway Theatre where Thomas G. Moses painted scenery in 1890. Photograph by Louis Charles McClure, Denver Public Library/Western History Collection, MCC-6

The Broadway Theatre where Thomas G. Moses painted scenery during 1890. Photograph of interior from 1895.

When Thomas G. Moses later went to paint scenery for this theatre, he took his entire family along. Renting a furnished house with a big yard for $50.00 per month, they got settled in very quickly. Moses recounts a story about the transportation of his art and modeling supplies at the beginning of the journey. While packing for their departure in Chicago, Moses’ model trunk had fallen 54 feet from his paint room window when it was being hauled outside. It struck a pile of loose planks (as they were having some work done on their stairway) and only manage to break a hinge. That’s very little damage for such a substantial drop! Then I thought back to my trip last fall when I looked at his Masonic theatre model and traveling trunk in the Harry Ransom Center. I was impressed with its sturdy construction and now understand why it was built that way.

Thomas G. Moses trunk and designs for Masonic model theatre, 1931.

In his typed manuscript Moses commented that the Broadway Theatre project was “an ideal one” and they had “good facilities to work.” For this project he had made all new scenery models for a presentation. On of his designs the included a cyclorama drop that measured 36 feet high and 250 feet long. The large cyclorama curtain ran on a track and they could create three distinct backings; a plain sky, a cloudy sky and a moonlit sky. Moses wrote about the stage, commenting, “No borders. We trimmed the front stuff down to low enough to mask. All rows were profiled; very effective.”

For the Broadway Theatre project, Moses’ painting crew included Ed Loitz, William and Charlie Minor, and Billie Martin. Nearby in Pueblo, Colorado, Walter Burridge and Ernest Albert were also painting on a project and called on Moses while he was working at the Broadway. During the visit, all three all took a day off and enjoyed each other’s company and went on a sketching trip. Early in 1891, “Albert, Grover & Burridge” established their new studio at 3127 State Street in Chicago. Their establishment as a marked departure from previous studios as they implemented advancements in the methods of mounting and presenting stage plays. Just prior to founding their new business venture, Albert was the scenic artist for the Chicago Auditorium, Burridge was the scenic artist for the Grand Opera House and McVicker’s, and Oliver Grover was a professor Chicago’s Art Institute. I wonder if Albert and Burridge had approached Moses in Denver about being their third business partner before selecting an academician. Albert, Moses and Burridge would have made quite a painting team.

During Moses’ stay in Denver, he took his family on several trips into the mountains.

He recorded that on one trip they traveled fourteen miles from Denver to Manitou and enjoyed seeing the scenery at Ute Pass, Williams Canyon and Garden of the Gods. All three were already popular tourist destinations, drawing throngs of visitors in horse-drawn wagons.

Visitors on tour in Garden of the Gods, September 19, 1890.

Moses wrote, “We enjoyed these trips.” It had to have been one small way to make up for his seven-month absence. Sadly, a telegram soon called Moses back to the studio in Chicago for some special work. As it was nearing the time for school to start anyway, they decided to all head home at the same time. Moses wrote, “Ella packed up everyone in a day.” They gave up their Denver house and arrived in Chicago by early September.

Loitz and the Minor brothers remained in Denver to complete the painted interiors for the Broadway Theatre in Denver. Moses stayed in Chicago until November 4, and then returned to Denver to complete their contract. This means that scenic work had continued on the Broadway Theatre for three months after opening with “Bohemian Girl.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 221 – California Dreaming

On April 6, 1889, the Oakland Tribune reported, “Thomas Moses is in Auburn” (page 7). He was there to stay for a while and Ella was pregnant with their fourth child.

During his time in California, Moses made some models and did $1000.00 worth of painting for the State Fair Show in Sacramento. He and Loitz worked on this extra project while finishing the scenery for Booth and Barrett. This would have been while painting the New California Theatre. On completing the Sacramento job, Mr. Tubin (the head man) gave Moses $50.00 and Loitz $10.00 for their earnest endeavors to make this show the best on the grounds. It was a Mother Goose Fairy Tale for the children and was presented under a big tent.

Extra work for Moses included painting the scenery for a production of “Hamlet” while at the New California. It was so well received that they wanted Moses to accompany them back East and repeat it in Chicago. However, he had too much work on his hands already and remained at the New California Theatre to complete their contract with Booth & Barrett. Joe Murphy was another client who played at the New California and hired Moses to paint some additional pieces for his show. Moses’ painted scenery was getting a lot of attention and his skills as a scenic artist were in high demand. Moses wrote, “Mr. Hayman wanted me to sign a contract and remain at the theatre for $75.00 per week. I couldn’t do it.”

This would have been a wonderful compliment to Moses, but it also posed a threat to the Sosman & Landis studio. Moses had already left for greener pastures already. It was just a matter of time before he realized that he could make a much better living working by himself instead of remaining on salary with the studio.

Work was plentiful and Moses’ small family was growing. They celebrated the birth of Rupert on July 24 and they were making a lot of friends in the area. Sosman & Landis must have sensed that Moses might never return and soon called him back to Chicago for another painting project. There was a drop curtain to paint for Evansville, Indiana. Moses insisted on painting it in California and simply shipping it back to the studio. He recalled the difficulty in shipping back the drop to Chicago before it was sent on to Evansville. By September, he was sent on the road for another project, effectively giving up his hope to remain in Los Angeles. That fall, he sent his family back to Chicago. He wrote, “Ella and the four children started for home September 23 – some job for her. But she got along nicely as the passengers were awfully good to her and Pitt was a great deal of help.”

After his family left, Moses and Loitz headed to Tacoma, Washington to paint scenery for the new opera house. It was an opportunity to not only paint scenery, but also sketch the picturesque landscape surrounding the bustling town. Moses wrote, “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.” From the beginning of the train ride it was an adventure for the two. During the trip, Moses was sketching the mountains from the steps of the sleeper, when the double-head locomotive broke away from the train and continued rapidly ahead without the cars. They immediately pulled the brakes, forcing the loose cars to stop. Both Moses and Loitz recognized the dangerous situation and leapt from the train. Had the eleven cars started down the oncoming steep grade, they would have run out of control. They were stranded for a bit while waiting for the engine to return and pick up the cars.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 143 – Disaster Spectacles at Coney Island – The Eruption of Mount Pelee

The “Eruption of Mount Pelee” was another one of the models destroyed in the fire in the Harley Merry studio. This Coney Island disaster spectacel opened only two years after the actual event killed 30,000 people in 1902. Architects Essenwein & Johnson designed a structure to hold the “Mont Pelee, the Last Days of St. Pierre” production. Measuring 225 feet by 150 feet, it was the largest amusement structure on Coney Island and employed over fifty individuals to create attraction, many of who were electricians and mechanics.

Photograph of a wall in Coney Island near the “Johnstown Flood” attraction that advertised other disaster spectacles.

A hundred and sixty thousand tons of water was used for the production on a stage measuring 160 feet by 90 feet. The audience’s viewpoint was from that of a spectator in a boat off shore. The production opened with an exquisite view of Tampa, Florida, depicting peaceful waters in the bay. Ships and yachts sailed by as daylight gradually transitioned into a glorious sunset. Soon it was dusk and twinkling lights illuminated windows at seaside resorts. Finally the stage was obscured by darkness. Travellers now journeyed all the way across the ocean and were transported to the island of Martinique.

Article in “The Evening World” describing “The Eruption of Mount Pelee” in great detail.

The attraction used a brand new technology with a radium curtain that brought about realistic darkness while the change from open sea to the island of Martinique took place. During their travel they experienced a savage storm at sea with lightning, flying clouds, surging water and rain.

Arriving at Island of Martinque, they were just in time to witness an amazing sunrise and the warm glow spread over the red-tiled roofs in the unsuspecting city. The audience’s “boats” came even closer to the shores of Martinique and the city’s buildings continued to increase in size.

The clouds surrounding Mount Pelee soon begin to darken and ominous rumblings are heard in the distance. Suddenly, fire shoots upward from the mountain and streams of molten lava pour down the mountainside. Masses of rock are hurled through the air, igniting homes as they land. Flames sweep throughout the city and steam rises from the harbor as anchored ships begin to smolder. This horrific scene gradually becomes obscured with black smoke. As the smoke resides, the scene has changed and the audience now witnesses a devastating view of mass destruction. It was said to be an impressive disaster spectacle!

I had to wonder why the models in Merry’s studio that depicted attractions on Coney Island were the work of Harley Merry or the studio renters E. Van Ackerman and J. Katzer. If we consider the models to be the work of Ackerman, it would be a natural extension of their sideline business that produced both photographic backings and stereoscopic cards. It appeared that Ackerman Bros. was the epitome an early twentieth scenic studio’s attempt to diversify, providing all kinds of painted scenery for various venues.

Card for stereoscope produced by the Ackerman Bros. of New York.

It the models were part of the studio contents left by Merry it would also make sense as he had died only four months before. Merry’s scenic art and designs had already transitioned from simple stage productions to scenic realism spectacle and film by the turn of the twentieth century.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 141-The Old Harley Merry Studio

Four months after Harley Merry’s death his old studio was destroyed by fire. I find this fascinating as the story reads like a mystery. The January 9 issue of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reported a substantial loss for the current occupants.

It published, “The Harley Merry scenic studio in Franklin avenue, near Malbone street, in which the scenery for many of the greatest dramatic productions was painted, was destroyed by fire today. The entire contents of the building, including the completed scenery for one production and the partly finished scenery for another play, was lost. The building loss is estimated at $3,000, while the loss of the contents will amount to $10,000. The building and contents were uninsured. The fire was discovered at 10:30 o’clock by Michael Stabile of 27 Coffey street, who, with Frederick Snell of 8905 Fifth avenue, was in the building at the time.

Stabile was in the cellar under the studio when he heard a noise which sounded like the drop of a heavy weight. He ran up to the second floor, and as he opened the door leading to the stairway a cloud of smoke burst into his face. He called for help and a policeman sent in an alarm. Batailion Chief O’Hare, who was in charge of the fire engine companies to arrive, feared that the fire would spread to the adjoining building, which are all of frame construction, and to the Consumers Brewery across the street, and he sent in a second alarm. Six engines and two truck companies were soon on the scene, but the fire was beyond control and their efforts were devoted to saving surrounding property.

The roof fell an hour after the fire was discovered. Ten foremen were in the building when the roof tottered and were warned by the call of Deputy Chief O’Hara. All escaped before the roof collapsed. The flammable nature of the contents and the high wind are given as causes for the building’s rapid destruction.

The building was originally used as a scenic studio by E. J. Britton, retired actor and scenic artist, who painted under the name of Harley Merry. After his death last September the building passed into the hands of his daughter Mrs. George Kennington. It has recently been rented as a studio to E. Van Ackerman and J. Katser.”

I wondered about the history of these recent renters, Ackerman and Katser.

Ackerman sounded familiar to me, so I checked my scenic artist database. I only found a very brief notation about P. Dodd Ackerman, so I started searching newspapers from the period. In 1897 E. Van Ackerman painted a new drop curtain for B. F. Keith’s Union Square Theatre, depicting a “handsome interior with a view of a drawing room and distant conservatory” (New York Times, Dec. 8, 1897, page 4). He also painted the scenery for “The Privateer” at the Star Theatre with P. Dodd Ackerman. In 1913, he designed “Mlle. Modiste” at the Globe Theatre.

Advertisement from Julius Cahn’s 1913 Theatrical Guide.

I then found an advertisement in 1913 of “E. Van Ackerman, Scenic Studio, successor to P. Dodd Ackerman.” This suggested a split in the partnership, or possible death. The advertisement also noted that the studio was established in 1890. He advertised services for the painting and building of productions at 1576-1578-1580 Bushwick Avenue, Borough of Brooklyn, New York City. It also noted that Ackerman’s studio was only “Thirty Minutes from Broadway.” The “Ackerman Bros. Scenic Studio” had been at the same location, yet the advertisement in Gus Hill’s theatrical directory was from 1914, a year later. This was curious. Ackerman Bros. Scenic Studio, however, mentioned their production of Motion Picture Theatre Settings.

Advertisement in Gus Hill’s 1914 Theatrical Guide. Other pages in the publication noted that Hill absorbed Cahn’s publication.

As I examined the production history for both E. Van and P. Dodd, they primarily functioned as a scenic artist and scenic designer, respectively. I was more familiar with P. Dodd as he had numerous entries of designs in the Broadway Database (https://www.ibdb.com/), being listed as a designer for ninety-one productions from 1897-1939. His career really took off in 1908 and I had to wonder if his success as a scenic designer caused the two partners, possibly brothers, to briefly part ways. Obviously, their time apart was short-lived as E. Van Ackerman’s rental of Merry’s studio could have only been for a few months. Maybe the disaster and lack of insurance has caused E. Van and P. Dodd to partner again?

Comparatively to P. Dodd Ackerman, E. Van Ackerman had only two productions listed in the Broadway database – 1897 and 1927. That was a thirty- year separation and he had almost a non-existent paper trail for theatrical productions. Very little was published about E. Van Ackerman’s scenic art or designs, but in 1927 he designed the setting for “Tia Juana,” a melodrama at the Schubert Playhouse. The November 5 Morning News (Wilmington, Delaware) reported, “The Company is capable, the scenery elaborate, and there are no dull moments” (page 13). Ackerman’s design for the show was built by the Vail Scenic Construction Company.

In the Old Harley Merry Studio fire during 1911, the newspaper article noted, “The contents included the completed scenery for the production of “The Real Girl,” a musical comedy which is to be produced on Broadway within a few weeks, and also the partly finished canvas for the farcical comedy, “Class,” which also has a Broadway booking.” I have been unsuccessful in finding that either of these productions was finalized. The article also noted “The loss of these two sets is estimated between $6,000 and $7,000.” That would have been a heavy loss at the time.

I then read the last line of the article and experienced butterflies in my stomach. It read, “The studio contained the original models of the “Johnston Flood,” “The Eruption of Mount Pelee,” “The Deluge,” and twenty-two other similar productions.” I knew those productions! But they weren’t Broadway shows – they were disaster spectacles for Coney Island! Maybe E. Van Ackerman’s focus had been producing attractions for amusement parks. They could also have been Merry’s work left over from previous years; items that had not been cleared out of the studio before the renters arrived on site.

To be continued…