Category: Palette & Chisel Club

In the spring of 1885, Thomas wrote that he and Ella “got the house fever” and subsequently spent some time looking for a new place to live. They finally settled on 721 West Harrison Street and a well-built white stone house that was well built with eight rooms. They bought it and moved in that June, even though they were still responsible for the rent on the Centre Avenue House for another year. In the new home, Moses had a studio with North light. He wrote, “We enjoyed our new home very much. I had the front room nicely decorated by Mitchell and Halbach and I more than enjoyed the little studio. With the extra work from the outside, it paid me to keep the room for a studio. The children, Pitt and Mamie were a mischievous pair, getting into all kinds of trouble and kept Ella on the watch every minute”

In 1931, Moses reflected on his 1885 diary entries. He wrote, “My old diary shows a very discontented mind. I was so anxious to get out of doors to sketch and I could never find the time. I contributed to as much road work as usual, but the big cars being used by all the roads enabled us to ship larger stuff which cut down on travelling for Me.” In October of that year, however, Moses did find the time to go on another sketching trip – this time with John H. Young and Henry C. Tryon. The three journeyed to West Virginia and Moses mentioned their adventures in his 1931 typed manuscript, “I have written this up in detail – elsewhere.”

I never knew where else the story might be until last fall when I paged through the John R. Rothgeb papers. There were photocopies of his article for the 1885 Palette & Chisel newsletter, just like his 1884 trip to Breckenridge. I am going to post the article because it is hilarious. It also provides some good insight into the artistic temperament of Henry C. Tryon. Remember that Tryon was nine years older than Moses at this time (38 years compared to Moses’ 29 years). I also really enjoyed reading about this “eccentric” individual as he was certainly not an ideal traveling companion.

Here is the first snippet of Moses’ first installment about his 1885 trip to West Virginia published in the Palette and Chisel newsletter.

Tom Moses’ Trips

West Virginia, 1885 (page 3, column 3)

Henry Tryon and I started for West Virginia on a sketching trip. I had more bother and worry with Tryon than a hen with a brood of chickens; he was simply impossible. A very clever painter but he was not balanced – very temperamental. While he was more than ten years my senior I had to lead him to everything that we had to do for the trip. I went to the B. & O. R. R. Co. and endeavored to secure free transportation. I tried to show them the great benefit our trip would be to the advertising department, as Mr. Tryon expected to write an account for the Chicago Tribune. They had plenty of this advertising, but encouraged us by giving us half fare both ways. We were highly pleased to get this with the understanding that John Young was to follow at the same rate within the week.

I had a struggle to get Tryon down to the depot at 5 P.M. – the train left at 5:10. While we were rushing for the sleeper, Tryon stopped – he must get into his trunk which I had checked early in the day. I informed him that we had no time – the baggage was being put on the train. He insisted, so I went with him at 5:05 to the baggage-car. He asked the baggage master to pull the trunk off the truck so he could open it. After much grumbling it was lowered to the platform. Tryon untied the rope, unlocked it and from the top tray took out a fifteen-cent package of Durham smoking tobacco; replacing the rope he informed the baggage-man he was through with it. The baggage-man had been watching him and when he saw what was taken out he made some remarks that would not look well in print. Tryon never lost his temper, so the remarks did not affect him. We had less than two minutes to get to our sleeper, the trunk was thrown on and away we went. I never mentioned the incident again and Tryon forgot it immediately.

To be continued…

Historical note: Moses and Tryon probably departed from Chicago’s Great Central Depot in 1885. This was the statin that served the B&O RR in Chicago. This structure opened on June 21, 1856 at an expense of $250,000. For a brief period, it was the largest building in downtown Chicago. The train shed was destroyed in the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 but still remained in operation, even after a second fire damaged the head house in 1874. The station eventually proved inadequate to handle growing traffic and was closed on April 17, 1893. The Grand Central Station on Harrison Street and Fifth Avenue, replaced it and began serving the Chicago & Northern Pacific, the Chicago Great Western, and the Baltimore & Ohio Railroads.

In 1884, the same year as his sketching trip to Breckinridge, Thomas G. Moses decided to stay at Sosman & Landis Studio for another year. He also moved to a new home, writing, “Mr. Landis prevailed on us to move to Centre Avenue, next flat to theirs. We did so, and it cost us considerable to furnish the flat, including a piano. We thought we deserved it; as the old one that was given to us as a wedding present had become impossible. We had saved considerable money.” The stability provided by a steady income at the studio allowed the young couple to financially thrive for the first time in their marriage. Moses could now attend art school. As a freelance artist, the financial commitment for training had very been cost prohibitive.

Chicago was working well for Moses and his small family. The previous year his father had left Sterling and moved to Chicago. Moses recorded, “Father attempted to carry on the harness and collar business, but didn’t have the capital, and had to give it up. He opened a little cheap grocery store on Randolf Street. We bought our groceries from him, and he was very attentive to Ella’s orders.” By 1884, Moses wrote, “Father was almost a daily visitor to our new home. He was highly pleased when he heard of the progress I had made and took pleasure in telling friends and others what his “son Tom” had done. He enjoyed taking the children for a short ride in his old Concord wagon that was now doing duty as a grocery delivery wagon.”

While Moses was working at Sosman & Landis that year another artist was brought on to the staff -Henry C. Tryon. He was Lem Graham replacement after Graham left for Kansas City to start his own studio. Moses wrote: “[Tryon] enthused Young and I more than anyone ever had. He was a pupil of Thos. Moran and James and William Hart and was very clever, but awfully eccentric.”

Tryon was nine years older than Moses, born in Chicago during 1847.  At the age of seventeen, he enlisted in the army in a regiment attached to the Second Army Corps, Army of the Potomac, serving until the close of the Civil War. He later became a student at the Pennsylvania Academy of Design and intended to become a landscape painter, studying with both Thomas Moran (1837-1926) and William M. Hart (1823-1894). Tryon also worked with Louis Malmsha (1863-1882) at Wood’s Theatre in Cincinnati and later with him at McVicker’s Theatre in Chicago. In 1882, Tryon had published a tribute to Malmsha heralding him as “the greatest scenic painter in the world.”

In the early 1880s. Tryon had moved to Salt Lake City where he became active as a scenic artist, well known for his drop curtain at the Salt Lake Theatre entitled, “The Return of a Victorius Fleet.” Sadly, this prized drop curtain disintegrated from use.

He also produced 25 sets of scenery for the Salt Lake Theatre. Harry Miner’s American Dramatic Directory notes that the theatre had a seating capacity of 1,850 with a stage measuring 65’ x 70’ and a proscenium opening of 28’ x 32.’ The height from the stage to the grooves was 18’ with the height from the stage to the rigging loft measuring 52.’

The “Salt Lake Daily” on July 22, 1883 (Vol. XIV, No. 41) published, “The improvements which have been in progress at the Salt Lake Theatre during the past nine or ten months, under the direction of Henry C. Tryon, the noted scenic artist, have attracted a great deal of attention from theatrical men generally. Especially is this true of those professionals who had been here prior to the changes (referred to in detail from time to time in these columns) as they have progressed. It is needless to say surprise is universal when the marked change that has taken place is noticed, and the expression invariably is that one would never have believed such important improvements could have been effected in so brief a period.” The “old” theatre was renovated and the article noted that “the changes which have been effected in that building would strike the attention with greater force than that of a casual observer, or even a theatrical man whose opportunities noticing the difference have been less favorable.”

The well-known theatrical manager, Marcus R. Mayer, commented on the work that had been done under the direction of Tryon and the “metropolitan advantages.” Mayer said, “I can imagine the surprise and delight with which the Kiralfys will look about them when they first set foot on the stage. We will be able to present our scenery here with its full effect, and that is something and that will be something we will be able to do in very few places after leaving here. Tryon is evidently a man who knows much about stage requirement as any person since, as I am informed, the extensive changes have been made by his direction and mainly under his supervision.”

The author of the article then asked Mayer, “By the way, what do you think of Tryon as an artist?” Mayer’s response, “Tryon? We he has a national reputation. The fact that he is engaged to paint the scenes is a guaranty that the scenes outfit will be on par with any theatre in the United States. He is none of your fellows who depend on village theatre for a livelihood; his services are in demand all the time and the only thing that beats my penetration is that so expensive an artist could be obtained to come to Salt Lake. The scenes already painted are the equal of anything in stock in the country.” Mayer would finish the article with saying, “The management of the Salt Lake Theatre foresaw just what I’ve told you, and knowing the companies now coming could not endure the old arrangements, they determined to fit the stage up first-class modern style, and Tryon was just the man for the conspiracy.”

I believe that Tryon was not only hired at Sosman & Landis studio in 1884 for his painting abilities, but also for his knowledge of stage machinery. I was looking at Tryon’s theatrical contributions during 1882 and 1883 in the Salt Lake area when his work for Scottish Rite theaters and degree productions popped up. What a small world.

To be continued…

The Palette & Chisel, Vol. V, No. 6, June 1928. Tom Moses’ Trips, Breckenridge, Col.    Concluded

“I went down the road to make a sketch of a real old-timey stage coach, which was rapidly falling to decay. As I sat there sketching, and fighting insects, the awful silence was very oppressive, occasionally broken by the cooing of the wood-dove, the buzzing of a bumble bee or the distant cluck of a hen. The dazzling heat waves from the sandy street reach to the top of the tarred roofs of the buildings, then drift away to the cooler waves from the mountain peaks.

Concealed somewhere in those peaks are tons of gold, and some day these two men will find it as I hope they to. I hope long before this they have gotten some part of the many tons, have left poor Frisco to the past, returned to their old homes and dear friends, and look back on their days in the gold fields as something to relate in after life; an experience that most of us usually get, if we have enough red blood in our veins to attempt it.

We bade the trio good-bye, and late in the day we started back to Dillon, after a very warm and dusty walk. A good, cold wash-up made us fit for dinner, and I am pleased to mention the fact that we had another helping of trout. After dinner some of the boarders entertained Young and me by telling of the wonderful country back of Dillon. The mountains across the valley east of Dillon looked about four or five miles away. The natives said “Ha! Ha!” and informed us they were about forty miles away. It was hard to believe.

We encouraged the story-telling, and usually wound up with one of the hair-raising stories of the wonders of Chicago. They seemed to enjoy our yarns. The mosquitos were something awful; we were thankful to have screens in our windows so we were able to get a good night’s sleep, which put us in good shape for the next day’s work.

We started early and made several sketches. After a light luncheon, which we carried with us, Young proposed we cross a ravine in a dry water flume. I was game, as I could reach a high point without a lot of hard climbing. We walked across the ravine, steadily going higher. The cross braces in the flume made it very hard, as we soon got tired of stepping over them.

The bottom of the flume was thick with alkali, and our eyes burned and our tongues swelled up badly. We could hardly talk. We thought we were going to die of thirst, so we scrambled back to where we started as quickly as possible. There was a railroad water tank not far away and we made for it in double quick time. We couldn’t reach the rope to pull the spout down, but got relief from the small pool, formed by the dripping water. As it was all clean sand and gravel, we were soon in normal condition. I can easily imagine what one must suffer in the desert from thirst. No more dry flumes for us.

In going throughout the woods we struck a deserted cabin, and, nailed to the gable was a magnificent pair of antlers. Young wanted to get them and ship them to Chicago. We tried to get them down, but found them too heavy, so we had to leave them. They would have made a fine hall or studio decoration. It was here we saw our first flying squirrels. It was fun to watch them; it seemed no effort for them to sail through the air fifty feet, or more.

The town of Dillon is very nicely situated in the valley of the Blue River, surrounded on all sides by high mountain ranges. Mr. Hamilton took us for a long ride, and we saw a great deal of the valley. Looking from Dillon across the river to the farms and pasture land beyond, is some of the best farm land in the state and it all reminds one of some of the Swiss pictures of the Alps.

On returning to Breckenridge we had a good visit with our short-tie acquaintances, made a few more sketches, packed up and started for Denver. We had a much trouble with a “wheezy” engine and to cars going back as we had coming in. Had a late luncheon at Como, and, without anything happening worth while, we reached Denver in time for a good dinner, which we both enjoyed. Went to the Tabor Grand Opera House for the evening.

We were up bright and early the next morning, visited several friends, and strolled about the city. And there is plenty to be seen, public buildings and fine private homes. Took and evening train for Chicago, by the way of Kansas City.

As we were rather shy on cash, we went to the smoker, and ahead of this was a tourist sleeper. Young made up his mind that he was going to use the tourist sleeper, and he did. I remained in the smoker, expecting to get a good night’s rest. After mid-night, notwithstanding the awful thick atmosphere, the passengers were pretty rough. Among the bunch were five tough cow-boys, going back to Texas. One was a negro. He espied my sketching outfit and insisted upon knowing all about it. I did not want to start anything, so I answered his questions as civilly as possible, to impress the passengers as they were the real article.

The cow-boys continued drinking, swearing and singing, and wound up one burst of wild yelling by doing a regular western act – shooting the lights out. There was only one shot out, because a single-handed brakeman came in and took the guns from the whole bunch. He threw on of the men down in a seat, and threatened to punch his head if he moved again. One of them wanted some fresh air, and he went out of the car. We traveled for at least an hour, and the fresh air man couldn’t be found. The conductor wouldn’t stop the train and go back, so one of the cow-boys got off the train at the first stop, intending to go back and look for his partner. We never heard any more about it. The remaining three soon went to sleep, as nearly everyone did. In the morning everything was quiet. Young had enjoyed a good night’s rest and had missed the fun. These cow-boys were the most typical of the race I have ever seen. Their burnt and leathery skin, from long exposure, was characteristic of the tribe, and their general make-up was picturesque. They felt hurt to think a lone brakeman had made monkeys of them before a lot of passengers that they wanted to impress with the idea that they were a hard lot.

We arrived in Kansas City late in the afternoon. Young and I found a chair car would fit our money better than a Pullman. We looked pretty rough, and even a porter was not anxious to have us. He seemed to think we wanted the smoker, but a half dollar in advance soon supplied us with a blanket and pillow and we enjoyed a night’s ride to Chicago.”

(The end of Moses’ article)

Historical note about the town of Dillon:

The original town of Dillon was built as a stagecoach stop and trading post on the Snake River. Named for a prospector Tom Dillon, the town was incorporated in 1883. It was soon relocated to the west bank of the Blue River when Denver and Rio Grand Railroad came to Blue River Valley, but bypassed Dillon. Dillon was relocated a second time in 1892 when the Denver, South Park, and Pacific Railroad arrived from the northeast. In 1956, the Denver Water Board notified the remaining residents and business owners that they must sell and leave by September 15, 1961. Dam construction began in 1961 and was completed by 1963. The dam diverts water from the Blue River Basin through the 23.3 mile Harold D. Roberts Tunnel under the Continental Divide into the South Platte River Basin. Other than the surrounding mountains, the town of Dillon that Moses visited no longer exists, as it became the Dillon Reservoir.

The Palette & Chisel, Vol. V, No. 5, May 1928. Tom Moses’ Trips, Breckenridge, Col.    Continued

“[Ed] Morange and [Hardy] Maratta were getting tired of the hard bed and indifferent food, so after a week of it they packed up and started east. The same day, Young and I started for Dillon by rail. We shipped the camp outfit back to Chicago. This day there was a heavy rain down the valley. We were several hundred feet above it, and we found it interesting to watch the lightning and hear the thunder so far below us. The mountain peaks were jutting up through the storm clouds, not unlike so many small islands. The top of the clouds seemed to be perfectly level, like a great sea. We could see nothing of Breckenridge below us. The storm did not last long and it was soon clear, so we proceeded to get out outfit down to town.

We were sorry to see Ed and Hardesty go, as we had planned at least two weeks in the tent. One night we had a terrific rainstorm that was not below us – it was on top, and very much so. We felt as though we would be washed down the mountainside into the town, but the tent ropes stood the strain. We got the full force of the lightning, and the shock was fierce. When the natives inquired next morning how it felt to be perched so high, and whether the storm had worried us, we had to get even with them saying: “We slept through it all; we were used to heavy storms in Chicago.”

When Young and I arrived in Dillon we went to the only good hotel, kept by a Mr. Hamilton. We discovered some trout streams not far from the hotel, and there was plenty of fine trout in the streams. We had a lot of fishing and tackle, and tried to get Mr. Hamilton to allow us to fish. As the regular fishing season did not start for over a month we thought that, as the streams belonged to the hotel, we certainly could have a lot of fun fishing and turn them in at the hotel. This pig, Hamilton, went out for himself and caught a big mess for the hotel.

When the waitress brought in a large platter of the same trout Young and I didn’t do a thing to that platter. The girl went back to the kitchen for more. We saw several female heads at the kitchen door, after the waitress told them of the to gluttons. Even Hamilton gave us a rap after dinner about it, but we had an answer for him. We also heard from some of the boarders. They made some harsh comments on the “conduct of parties from the far East.” We, at the same time, congratulated ourselves that we had plenty of fish for the first time in our gay young lives. A good night’s sleep, in a real bed, put us in good shape for the next day’s work.

Our first day of sketching at this place was a very busy one. The mountain streams all do the serpentine cut to the sea, compelling us to cross and re-cross many times. One crossing had to be done over a large log. This was no trouble for Young, while I had to creep across with the aid of my tripod sketching stool. I was doing a balancing act, but did not succeed. I slipped and went in and the water was ice cold. I managed to swim across. Young grabbed my hickory stool and pulled me out of the water. My sketching bag and contents got some water-color effects that I couldn’t do with brush or pencil. As the sun was awfully hot I removed my outer garments and laid them on the hot sand; my underclothing was soon dry, dried my sketchbook, and within an hour I was ready to travel.

We soon came to a little cemetery. One rough head-board had the following epitaph, printed with black letters: “Here lies the body of John Sands. A Frisco miner, an honest man and an old timer.” No dates nor age. Near by was the small town of Frisco, which at one time was a prosperous mining town of about three thousand inhabitants. The mines gave out, no one stayed, and homes and stores were left to the elements. As we struck the main street we looked about, but we couldn’t see a living thing, excepting a few chickens which convinced us, however, that someone must have stayed. The feeling we had among the deserted homes and stores was rater uncanny. The buildings had been hastily built; all very rough, and very few of them had been painted. The sign boards were a hot, badly spelled and very typical of a frontier mining town; a regular mushroom town – it grew over night.

Young was not satisfied with the indifference of the citizen as to our coming, and insisted upon some kind of welcome, so he gave a regular “war whoop.” As the echo died away in the mountains a door opened in the hotel at our right. The citizen came out and welcomed us to “his” city. We inquired if the town had gone on a picnic, but he replied that out of the three thousand of two years ago he and his wife and a saloon-keeper, were the only ones left. We were invited into the comfortable hotel parlor and met the wife. A glass of cold milk satisfied our thirst. We were also invited to luncheon, and it was fine. The saloon-keeper boarded there and opened his saloon only when the stage passed through town, once each day. The rest of the time he spent working the mine, by himself. The hotel-keeper was from Brooklyn; had kept a meat market before he got the gold fever. He had enough money to build and open his hotel, and during boom times, which lasted several years, he had made money, but had sunk all his profits into many holes in the ground. He and Young went for a walk after dinner. I wanted to make a sketch of the hotel porch. The wife came out and sat down for a visit. I said to her, “Your husband tells us that your health will not permit of your going back east,” which he did, when we asked him why he did not follow the crowd. She replied: “He tells that to everyone. Those holes up the side of Buffalo Mountain is what keeps us here. He hates to back without a fortune; we will never get it here.” All was so barren and desolate that I wondered how they kept from going insane.”

To be continued

Historical note about Frisco, Colorado:

Frisco is situated on the shores of Lake Dillon, seventy miles west of Denver. The town was founded by Henry Recen as a result of the mining boom in the 1870s. By 1882, the town boasted two railroads, many businesses, hotels, and saloons. Frisco was the center of mining activity because of the railroads and a stagecoach stop. Frisco served as the gateway to the towns and mines in the Ten Mile Canyon. The two narrow-gauge railroads, the Denver & Rio Grande and the Denver, South Park & Pacific, stopped at Frisco. Eventually, the railroads pulled up their tracks and Frisco became the sleepy little town that Moses encountered on his sketching trip in 1883.

The Palette & Chisel, Vol. V, No. 4, April 1928, Tom Moses’ Trips, Breckenridge, Col.Continued

“Having nothing to do towards evening, we looked up the assayer, Mr. Whipple, to whom I had a letter of introduction. He took us over to the Penn-Breckenridge Gold Mine. Only a tunnel – we could see nothing. He then took us over to the “Hunter Carter” Museum, in a large building, built of rough timber and hemlock slabs.

Carter was a very successful hunter and trapper, and, in his early life, started out with the ambition it collect a specimen of every bird, reptile, fish and egg that existed in Colorado, and I think he did it. The cases he had to hold these specimens he built himself. The manner in which the animals were grouped and mounted proved that Carter was not only an artist in composition but also the art of taxidermy. This whole collection was since bought by the state – $50,000.00 was the price paid and it is certainly worth twice the sum. It is now stored in the basement of the Capitol building.

Mr. Whipple, in showing us about, was very considerate in our ability to climb in this very ratified air. He warned us that we should rest for a few moments every quarter of a mile. We all started together, and the artists from Chicago never stopped until we reached the top. Mr. Whipple had to rest three times. We “jollied” him good and hard, informing him that we had good muscular exercises twice a day. He had to acknowledge that we were good walkers, and he didn’t understand how we stood the high altitude. Especially when coming from Chicago. We were now up nearly 9000 feet above sea level.

We had considerable fun on our way to the mines, the best feature of which is that they are paying dividends, and good big ones.

The night life of a frontier town is rather interesting, especially when miners and cattle men are earning good wages. The town was strictly a mining town. While there was some gambling going on, t was not as wide open as I had seen it in some other towns. We visited one or two saloons, had a glass or two of beer, but then we did not get a good old Chicago glass full. We enjoyed watching a game of pool. The miners were very pleasant, and we were getting into their confidence, now that they really believed we were painters and not prospectors.

The only protection we had against wild animals or hold-up men was a Colt’s revolver, a forty-five caliber, as big as a gun, and it made some noise when fired. Young was delegated to carry it. We got well acquainted at the big general store, including the Post office. At this store we bought our daily supplies. Several evenings were spent here, enjoying the stories spun by the miners, many of which were manufactured for our especial benefit. We came pretty near matching them with some of our stories direct from Chicago.

Among the miners was a Frenchman, who insisted upon being of some use to us. He wanted to haul our traps across the mountains to Dillon. At first he wanted fifteen dollars, ten, and finally he got down to five dollars. He looked too much like one of Howard Pyle’s villains that have graced the pages of Harper’s Magazine for the past few years. Not that we were afraid of him and his gang, but we simply preferred to go by rail, which we did a few days later. In the meantime, we were getting some good sketches, but found it very hard to work water color, the air being too dry. We were also worried by insects of all descriptions; and the penny-royal we could put on did no good.

We all went down to the Blue River to sketch. We saw a big rock formation called “Eagle Rock” and we were anxious to get to it. We had to climb some distance, possibly three hundred feet above the valley. After making the sketch, we started down the road. We ground a soft “wash-down”, great for sliding. Young, with his long legs, started ahead, and being the most daring and athletic of the bunch, we allowed him to set the pace! I can see the soft dirt flying, and the small stones that he started going. We followed, yelling like a band of Indians. It is a wonder we were not hurt. By the time we struck the road we were all in from excitement and lack of breath.

Just as we hit the road a miner was approaching. As soon as he saw us he turned around and started to run. We called to him and convinced him that we were not hold-up men. He then recognized us, having seen us at the store. We afterwards found out that, during a quarrel over the division of their earnings with his partner, he was compelled to shoot in self-defense and killed his man. He was exonerated, but had a fear that some of his partner’s friends were trying to “get him.” He was rather a congenial sort of fellow, unlike the majority of miners we had met.”

To be continued…

Historical note about the “Hunter Carter” Museum:

Edwin Carter came to Breckenridge in 1868 seeking gold and fortune, but his goals changes when he saw the devastating effect mining had on the environment and local wildlife. Carter became a taxidermist and collected thousands of Rocky Mountain animal specimens in his museum, which doubled as his home. Carter worked and lived in his museum for 25 years. When he passed away, Carter’s collection of almost 3,300 Colorado wildlife specimens formed the nucleus of the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. Today, the Edwin Carter Museum honors the life and legacy of Edwin Carter. For more information about the Edwin Carter Museum, call the Breckenridge Heritage Alliance at 1-970-453-9767. Here is the link to historic Breckenridge: http://www.grandlodgeonpeak7.com/breckenridge/the-town/history/ Early images of Carter’s Museum in Breckenridge are available at www.common-place.org Vol 12, No. 2, January 2012. Here is the link: http://www.common-place-archives.org/vol-12/no-02/cain/

The Palette & Chisel, Vol. V, No. 4, April 1928. Tom Moses’ Trips, Breckenridge, Col.  Continued

“The town characters began to climb up to our camp about eight o’clock, wanting to know all about us, where we came from is interesting to them. Chicago was a “tough burg” from what they had heard. They could not understand why we had come all the way to paint picture of barren piles of rock. They were kind enough to not class us with “regular tenderfoot.” They couldn’t resist telling us of the ferocious wild animals that we would hear prowling around our camp after midnight. All we would have to do was fire a shot, and the town marshal would come to our assistance. We were good listeners, and when they departed I could see by their actions they were satisfied the stories had all sunk in. We knew enough to keep our small camp lantern burning, and we slept pretty well, as we were rather tired. We heard no animals so our arsenal was not called upon for action. We missed nothing.

As I was the fat one in my party I had more grooves in my back and arms, from the so-called pine twigs that composed our springs, than anyone in the party. As the sun kissed the snow peaks above us, we were supplied with cold water in the numerous small streams near our camp. We enjoyed the toilet making, as a cold dash and rough towel got our blood into good circulation. An early breakfast was enjoyed by everyone; our boiled ham was fine. We were instructed not to leave any money or tobacco outside of the tent.

Maratta and I started for French Gulch to make our first sketch. We found some very good motifs. After a lot of hard climbing, we ran across a placer mine outfit and found it interesting. The miners were just “cleaning up.” Their hard-earned gold looked good to us. The method is very simple. A long box, about three feet wide, twenty feet long and about two feet deep, is built of heavy timber, and round blocks, similar to our cedar paving blocks, are planted in the bottom which is water-tight, and a partition is built at the lower end about the height of the blocs.

Quicksilver is placed between the blocks on the bottom of the box. The gold-bearing sand is shoveled into the box, or further up the valley into the lower flum, which is fed by the water that has been harnessed in a sluice and turned into this box. As the water usually has a heavy fall, it rushes over the blocks, washing the dirt and sand across them out of the box. The quicksilver attracts the small particles of gold which drop between the blocks to the bottom, and remain there until the “clean-up” day, which happens twice a month. Some little excitement when clean up day arrives, for it is hard to tell whether there is a hundred or a thousand dollars worth of gold between the blocks, which all have to be removed before removing the sand and gold. In the refuse, or “tailings” of a gold mine, that miners will not work, a Chinaman can work over and get fully two or three dollars a day. The white man will not waste his time for such a small amount.”

(Second half of the third part to be continued tomorrow)

Historical note about French Gulch: Gold was discovered in French Gulch in 1860 by French Pete. This valley proved to be wildly rich in gold, silver, lead and zinc. You can still see the remains of many mines in this area, as well as the rounded rock piles left by dredge boats. In the White River National Forest, there is a 4.3-mile trail to French Gulch that starts at an elevation of 10,315 and ends 12,055 feet. On the trail, Mt. Guyot will come into view as the road traverses Humbug Hill. You will pass several privately owned cabins, then continue southeast on a pleasant rolling run with a spectacular view of Bald Mountain. The trails pass through Breckenridge’s fabled Golden Horseshoe, one of Colorado’s most fertile mining regions. Here is the link for information about the French Gulch hiking trail: http://fdrd.org/files/3014/0561/2197/French_Gulch.pdf

The Palette & Chisel, Vol. V, No. 3, March 1928. Tom Moses’ Trips. Breckenridge, Col.         Continued

As we passed Pueblo we left behind us a very hot, dusty and uninteresting town; the odd-shaped smelter stacks, and tons of ore on all sides awaiting the refining process.

On reaching Colorado City we found a real city. Lots of wealth had settled here, and beautiful homes had sprung up. We felt that we ere in the mountains, as Pike’s Peak appeared to be within a few miles. There was plenty of snow to be seen on the Peak. The trip from the Springs to Denver was interesting; quite a number of small lakes and pretty summer homes, and the grand old Peak always in sight.

Arriving in Denver we saw Pikes Peak in all its glory. The foothills were only fifteen miles away, but we thought we could walk to them in half an hour. We changed our minds about going to Georgetown, deciding on Breckenridge. As we had checked our tent and equipment to Georgetown we had to wait in Denver until we could have returned it. In the meantime we saw Denver – all of it. I met an old friend from Sterling, and had a nice visit with him. He had lived in Denver a number of years. We all fell in love with the city. It is beautifully situated, rather hilly but well laid out; fine buildings, very ornate homes, built by men who had more money than taste. We all attended the theatre, the famous Tabor Grand, and we found it all we had expected it would be, nicely decorated and fine woodwork. The Drop Curtain was very good: an old ruin with some poetical feeling that pleased everyone. It was painted by an old friend of mine, Mr. Robert Hopkins, of Detroit, Michigan. This is a favorite subject of his, he having done a similar one in Detroit.

An early start the following day, with all our camp equipment, which had returned from Georgetown in good condition. We crept along toward the foothills by the way of the fertile valley southwest of Denver. We soon entered the canyon, and our real mountain climbing began. Up through the Royal Gorge we hurried while the track was level, the raging torrent that swept past us a sight, and Young wanted to bet that he could swim across it. No one took his bet, so his bluff stood.

The wonderful rock formation was beyond our wildest imagination. While we had seen many photos and magazine cuts of this exact spot, we were very much surprised by the color. Even through this wild gorge there were many pretty little cottages perched high on the rocks in the small canyons that cut into the big canyon. The railroad company was very good to the hardy settlers by placing stations every few miles, where they stopped on signal. We were steadily climbing until we reached Como for a rest and dinner, which was relished by us all. After a brief rest the engine again started with only two cars; the rest of the train went another direction.

We soon found ourselves creeping slowly up the steep grade. We could see three tracks below us; over each one we had traveled in reaching the height of two thousand feet above Como. On reaching Boreas, the top of the Divide, the water-shed between the East and West, we found plenty of snow, a small yellow flower, growing through the snow, and a good supply of mosquitos. The sun was very hot. We four gathered a lot of snow-balls, went into the coach and started to “pelt” the passengers. Everyone thought it was good fun excepting a crazy fool, who drew a gun, and threatened to use it, until he was hooted at and hissed by the passengers. He was an old crab who never had any pleasure in life, and was dead sore at the world in general.

At this point we could see a hundred miles north and the same distance south, and it was certainly some sight. A beautiful blue haze spread over the whole picture.

On leaving Boreas we proceeded to descend very rapidly. Going up we only crept, so slowly that Young got off the rear end, and ran along side of the train ahead of the engine, crossed in front of it, and waited until the rear had caught up to him, then jumped on, only to get a good line of talk from the conductor, who informed us that he thought we were all crazy. We were out for a good time, and we were having it.

We didn’t have to go down as far as we were at Como, for we found Breckenridge nestled in a beautiful valley, with a small river running through the centre of it. On our arrival we got busy very quickly, as it was well along in the day and we had to get our tent pitched before dark. We took the tent poles, tied everything to them, and the four of us started for a spot several hundred feet above the town. We should have gotten a couple of burros for this work, but we had to be careful with our money. We had the tent pitched very quickly, some pine boughs cut and laid for our spring bed, over which we laid our four army blankets, two over and two under us. The delicate odor from the pine was very refreshing. We must have made a mistake in cutting the boughs and twigs, for they were more like branches and trunks. We enjoyed a good supper. All we had to get in town was fresh bread and butter, and milk.                                            To be continued

Historical note about the Tabor Grand Opera House in Denver: Located at 16^th and Curtis Streets, the Tabor Grand Opera House opened in 1881 by Horace A. W. Tabor, who made his fortune in silver mines in Leadville, where he opened his first opera house. It survived the emergence of movies with a remodel in 1921 when it was renamed the Colorado Theatre. The name didn’t stick and by 1930, the name returned to the Tabor Theatre. In 1945, talk began of demolishing the opera house, but it lasted until its final demolition in 1964. The theater’s famous drop curtain went into storage with the Central City Opera House Association because it was too large to display. It eventually disintegrated and was thrown out.

Historical note about Railroad to Breckenridge, Colorado: Known as the High Line, the Denver South Park and Pacific Railroad first chugged over Boreas Pass and into Breckenridge during 1882. The train to Breckenridge hauled mail over the pass, transported mining products, and introduced luxury items such as fresh ice cream, oysters and wine from Denver. Passengers like Moses also arrived in Pullman cars, with their posh interiors and gas lighting. However, the Boreas Pass was one of the highest and most foreboding railways in the nation at an elevation of 11,481 feet. The steep grade, winding track, and unpredictable weather required expensive track and train maintenance. It was a significant contributor to the area’s growth as it opened up this remote area to many visitors, such as Moses, Maratta, Young, and Morange. At the time the town was home to three newspapers and a cemetery. The town also managed three fire companies to protect the numerous, and vulnerable wooden buildings. How ever they were not enough to prevent tragedy. In 1884 a major fire destroyed a number of buildings along Main Street and Ridge Street. The line eventually closed and only glimpses of the journey remain to travelers.

In 1884, Thomas G. Moses accepted quite a bit of “night work” that subsequently funded a sketching trip to Colorado. At the time he was twenty-eight years old and had never seen the mountains. His traveling companions were John H. Young (26 yrs.), Edward A. Morange (19 yrs.), and Hardy C. Maratta (20 yrs.). The four artists travelled to Breckenridge and Moses recalled, “On our return trip we looked like a bunch of tramps, happy and ready for our old work.”

Fortunately for us, Moses recorded this adventure in a series of articles submitted to the Palette & Chisel Club Newsletter when he was seventy-one years old. Beginning in February, 1928, his series “Tom Moses’ Trips: Breckenridge, Col.” began and continued for five consecutive installments until June of that same year. I am going to share this delightful tale as it gives great insight into the each of the four artists. These remarkable individuals would later all have a lasting affect on both the performing arts and fine art world. Here is his first installment:

The Palette & Chisel, Vol. V, No. 2, February 1928. Tom Moses’ Trips, Breckenridge, Col.

Thomas G. Moses’ work as scenic artist has taken him to many strange places. Sometimes he has gone to gather material and at other times to execute commissions. As he is a careful observer of men, customs and local scenes, this series of accounts of his sketching trips contains much of unusual interest.

John H. Young, Edward Morange, Hardesty Maratta and myself talked and planned for over a year regarding a trip to the mountains of Colorado. In our every day work of Scenic Painting we were called upon to paint all kinds of mountain scenes, and, as we had never seen a real mountain, we had to rely upon photographs or magazine cuts for our ideas. So we were, naturally, anxious to see the wonderful piles of rock and earth.

We started on the 15^th of June, 1884, at one o’clock P. M. We also started out to be very economical. Instead of a Pullman we tried the chair car on the Wabash Railroad, and after a very sleepless night we arrived in Kansas City at 9 A. M. and found a very dirty and wild looking city. To an artist’s eye it was picturesque, with its many hills and smoking factories. An awful mob of people were at the depot, going and coming, hurrying like a lot of ants.

It appeared to me as if Kansas City were the melting pot of America. Quite a number of invalids were being hustled on their way to Arizona or California, as the last resort to regain their health, or they were returning home to die, after fruitless search for health, in the West, and having waited too long before taking the trip.

Our experience with the chair car was not satisfactory, so we secured four lower berths from Kansas City to Denver.

We stopped at noon at Ellis, where there was a good station dining-room. The passengers were given ample time to eat, and everyone enjoyed the meal. The train carried two buffet sleepers, but could not furnish a full meal.

We had dressed ourselves for a rough trip, and had on old clothes and flannel shirts. We certainly looked like tramps, excepting that our clothes were clean. We didn’t want to be loaded down with a lot of clothing, for we had enough to look after in our sketching outfit, a big tent, complete, cooking utensils, and a big sailor’s bag, loaded down with canned gods, sausages and a boiled ham. The passengers were very much interested in us. They made up their minds that we were going to Colorado to prospect for gold.

I was made treasurer, all of the money was turned to me, and knowing we would have some expenses that we hadn’t figured on, I made up my mind that we would go a little slow until we had reached our camping place.

We had quite a day traveling through the eastern part of Kansas. It was rather desolate, very few trees, and only a few real farm houses scattered along the road between the small stations. A jack-rabbit looked as large as a small deer. It did not seem as though we would ever reach any high ground, and, as I had never seen so much prairie before, it was interesting, in a way, for we felt it was being worked up to a big climax for the next day.

About six o’clock the boys were all hungry. As our car was a buffet affair, I ordered tea and toast. The porter had a fine linen tablecloth, and when he brought in the tea and toast there were three very disgusted boys. Young said nothing but left the car and was gone about ten minutes, and then returned with a can of corn and a large link of Summer Sausage. It was fully two feet long. He flourished it over his head and said, loud enough for the whole car to hear, “Live and let live, that’s our motto.” Of course, the passengers were amused, but the porter and cook was not. He rushed out for some paper, which he spread over his damask tablecloth to save it from the sausage grease. He warmed up our corn, so we finally got a meal. Our bag of canned goods was in the baggage car, so there was no chance of our suffering from hunger so long as Young stood in with the baggage man.

Early next morning, as soon as the sun was up, I had my berth made up, and the same old prairie, a little more rolling, met my anxious gaze. I fully expected to be in the foothills by this time. We were all up and dressed before six o’clock. We discovered a bright golden and pink object on the horizon away to the northwest. The porter informed us with a hearty laugh at our ignorance, that that was the snowcapped Pike’s Peak, one hundred and twenty-five miles away. We thought he was joking; it was simply wonderful and resembled a dish of strawberry ice-cream.

The day was bright and hot, but we kept our eyes on that ice-cream. In the meantime, we introduced the porter to set the table for our breakfast, the canned goods were added to what the porter could furnish, and we feasted again. The passengers had learned by this time we were a quartet of temperamental artists. We only lacked the accepted gaunt and hungry features of the comic paper versions.

As we drew nearer to the foothills the outlook became more interesting; the ice-cream cone was becoming more blue, and the richer blues and purples were creeping in between the great opalescent distance and the golden brown of our foreground, framing a picture that was far beyond our wildest dreams of what was in store for us. We sat as the window or stood on the platform every moment we could, afraid that we would miss some of it.

To be continued

(The “To be continued” was at the end of each installment – not me this time!)