Scenic Studio – Page 15 – Drypigment.net

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 990 – New York Studios and Fred Marshall, 1918

In 1918, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “September 1^st, I resigned as President of the Sosman and Landis Company which severs my connection with the firm after thirty-eight years of service. I joined the New York Studios and expect to get a studio and an office to do business.”

1927 New York Studios advertisement from “Scenic Artist,” Vol 1 No 1, May 1927.

Quick recap about New York Studios: Former Sosman & Landis secretary and treasurer, David H. Hunt, established New York Studios in 1910. The firm was intended to be an eastern affiliate of Sosman & Landis. Remember that Sosman & Landis established Kansas City Scenic Co. as a regional branch in the nineteenth century. However, the relationship between the two studios became strained after Moses became president of Sosman & Landis. Moss and Hunt had never really got along well, so I was quite surprised that Moses left Sosman & Landis to work at New York Studios in 1918. It must have been quite bad for Moses at Sosman & Landis for him to pull the plug after thirty-eight years. One has to wonder what was going on between the studio and the stockholders, as well as the company’s finances.

Of his new job, Moses wrote, “Marshall of the New York Studios and I had to hustle out for a studio. Got an office in the Consumers Building. I did two borders for the Chateau Theatre at the old place. We tried very hard to buy out the old place, but they want too much money. I was willing to make a big reduction on my claim, but it was no use. We have to find a studio.”

Moses was referring to Fred Marshall, a scenic artist who would later represent the United Scenic Artists’ Association of New York City. Born on March 24, 1895, in Woodridge, New Jersey. He was the son of Louisiana native, Frederick Marshal, Sr. (b. 1851), an artist who specialized in mural paintings and contemporary of Moses. WWII draft records describe the younger Marshall’s appearance as 6’-2” and 190 lbs., gray hair, blue eyes and a ruddy complexion.

While looking for information about Marshall, I came across three interesting finds that are worth sharing to give some context to his role in American theatre history. The first was a 1936 Columbia University doctoral thesis by Charles Lionel Franklin, A.M., entitled, “The Negro Labor Unionist of New York, Problems and Conditions among Negro in the Labor Unions in Manhattan with Special Reference to the N.R.A. and post- N.R.A. Situations.” The dissertation included interviews with Max Graft (Secretary of the U.S.A.A.) and Marshall (business representative of the U.S.A.A.). Graft was quoted as stating that the United Scenic Artists’ Association was “Organized in 1918. First it was explained that this local has jurisdiction over all workers in the Eastern United States. In its membership there were at one time two Negroes. One, a New York man who joined in 1918, dropped out in 1925. He was one of the first members. The other Negro member now in the union is a resident of Pittsburgh. In the local there are 339 members. The initiation fee is $500.00, $250.00 with application and $250. With initiation and yearly dues of $48.00.” On August 29, 1936, Marshall explained that the union’s “Membership was open to “any person who follows any branch of work within the jurisdiction of the scenic artists crafts for a livelihood.” Here is a link to the entire dissertation as it is certainly worth the read: https://dspace.gipe.ac.in/xmlui/bitstream/handle/10973/22326/GIPE-014119-Contents.pdf?sequence=2&isAllowed=y

Marshall was also interviewed in 1937 for the Emergency Relief Appropriation Hearings before the Committee on Appropriations, United States Senate Seventy-Fifth Congress, First Session on H. J. Res.361 The following is included from June 1937:

“Statement of Fred Marshall, United Scenic Artists’ Association of New York City.

Mr. Marshall: Gentlemen, I have nothing further to add to what has been said. I represent just the local in New York. We have three locals throughout the United States but I speak for New York. We had a membership of 490 in 1928, and we have some 320. We did try to discourage people from coming into the business. We closed our books and tried to discourage the schools teaching scenic designs, and so forth, as we did not see any advantage in bringing a lot of people into a business that had no future. But we did notice a pick-up since the Federal Theater started and we do dope it will be made a national institution, that the Government will make it a national theater. It is purely seasonal theater now with work for 5 months a years and the other 7 months of intermittently here and there; nut we do get about five months regular employment for all our people, and the other 7 months they do nothing; but we would like to see it become a national institution.” He spoke alongside Dorothy Bryant, Chorus Equity Association, Alfred Harding, Actors Equity Association, Fred J. Dempsey, International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, and David Freed, American Federation of Musicians for Emergency Relief Appropriation (page 236). They were concerned with the Woodrum amendment. Dempsey explained that of their 30,000 members, only 15,000 have work.”

Finally, in 1939 Marshall was listed as part of the Amusement Committee for the NY Worlds Fair, as the business representative for the United Scenic Artists of America, Local No. 829, 251 West Forty-second Street, NY. He was mentioned in the New York World’s Fair Hearings before the Committee on Foreign Affairs, House of Representatives Seventy-fifth Congress, First Session on H. J. Res. 234 and H. J. Res 304 Authorizing Federal Participation in the New York World’s Fair, 1939).

The point that I am trying to make is that Marshall was a mover and shaker in the scenic art world, but as a young man of 23 in 1918 he was walking around New York in search of a studio for Moses.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 989 – William F. Hamilton, 1918

In 1918, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “I made a lot of models and sketches for floats for Labor Day. Hamilton came out from New York to superintend the work. He always drops into a fat job somewhere.” Moses was referring working with William F. Hamilton again. The project was floats for the San Francisco Labor Day. The parade of 1918 focused on labor unions and worker’s rights, with eighty-seven unions participating in the parade that day, spread out over seven divisions.

Article about the San Francisco Labor Day parade in 1918, From the “San Francisco Chronicle,” 3 Sept 1918, page 11.

Detail from the “San Francisco Chronicle,” 3 Sept 1918, page 11.

It has been more than two years since I explored the life of scenic artist Will Hamilton and the short-lived firm of Moses & Hamilton. It is time to recap, because I think that working with Hamilton during the summer of 1918 prompted Moses to tender his resignation to Sosman & Landis by that fall. Hamilton may have reminded him that better opportunities were lurking elsewhere, and that Sosman & Landis was a sinking ship.

Moses first met Hamilton in 1892 when they were both hired to design the models and paint scenery for “Ben Hur,” the pantomime tableaux (see past installment 256 https://drypigment.net2017/11/22/tales-from-a-scenic-artist-and-scholar-acquiring-the-fort-scott-scenery-collection-for-the-minnesota-masonic-heritage-center-part-256-thomas-g-moses-painting-scenery-for-the-ben-hur-tableaux-and/).

Less than a decade later, the two established Moses & Hamilton in New York. The partnership lasted until 1904 when Moses returned to Chicago to become vice-president at Sosman & Landis studio. When Perry Landis had to leave the company for health reasons, Sosman assumed many of the administrative and marketing duties. Therefore, someone was needed to supervise all design, construction, painting and installation.

Moses & Hamilton advertisement in Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide, 1903-1904.

It had been difficult for Moses to leave in 1904. That year he wrote, “When I had to tell Hamilton, I almost gave in to stay with him, for he was awfully broken up over it.” Moses was leaving a good friend, a good crew, and good work, hoping for something even better upon his return in Chicago. This was especially difficult as the theatrical center of the United States was shifting to New York.

Moses & Hamilton had assembled a paint crew at the Proctor’s 125^th Street Theatre only three years earlier. Their staff included Ed Loitz, Otto Armbruster and Al Robert. Projects were plentiful, and consistently spread across three theatres: The American Theatre, Proctor’s Twenty-third Street Theatre, and Proctor’s 125^th Street Theater. Thomas G. Moses was the lead scenic artist at the American Theater, William F. Hamilton was the lead scenic artist for Proctor’s Twenty-third Street Theatre, and Al Roberts was the lead scenic artist at Proctor’s 125^th Street Theatre.

For three years, Moses & Hamilton had more work than they could handle, producing scenery for opera, vaudeville, and other entertainments. Their work for Frederick Thompson at Luna Park included “A Trip to the Moon,” “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” “War of the Worlds,” and “Fire and Flames.” A few of Moses & Hamilton’s Broadway designs included “Under the Southern Skies” (Theatre Republic, Nov. 12, 1901 to Jan. 1902), “In Dahomey” (New York Theatre, Feb. 18, 1903 to April 4, 1903, with a return to the Grand Opera House from August to September, 1904), “The Medal and the Maid” (Broadway Theatre, Jan. 11, 1904 to Feb. 20, 1904, Grand Opera House, March 1904), “The Pit” (Lyric Theatre, Feb. 10, 1904, to April 1904), and “Girls Will Be Girls” (Haverly’s 14th Street Theatre, Aug. 27, 1904 to Sept. 3, 1904). Their work was sought after by Helena Modjeska, John C. Fisher, Henry Savage, and other well-known theatre personalities.

Another advertisement for Moses & Hamilton.

Even after Moses & Hamilton folded, the two continued working together on a variety of projects across the country until 1909. Moses remained at Sosman & Landis, while Hamilton worked at New York Studios, the eastern affiliate of Sosman & Landis. However, as business picked up at Sosman & Landis, it became more and more difficult for Moses to do any outside work with Hamilton. Previously, he earned extra income by taking on these outside projects. Part of the perks was his being able to use the studio for night work. However, as Sosman & Landis took on more and more work, hours were extended into the evening, prohibiting outside projects.

So work slows down during the war years, and Hamilton comes around again. It was no coincidence that Hamilton shows up in July and Moses resigns as president of Sosman & Landis less than two months later. Moses wrote, “September 1^st, I resigned as President of the Sosman and Landis Company which severs my connection with the firm after thirty-eight years of service. I joined the New York Studios and expect to get a studio and an office to do business.” On September 2^nd Moses recorded, “There was a big Labor Day parade and such a crowd. Mama and I went down but were very careful not to get in the thick of it.” That was his first day of freedom from Sosman & Landis, his first day without the worry of being president at the company.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 984 – Reflections on Scenic Art

This is a long and contemplative post, so my apologies in advance. Quarantine is providing me with a little too much time to think, hence why I am painting so much; it silences the internal dialogue.

In 1918, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “Pitt and Stella dropped in on us from Trenton on my 62^nd birthday on the 21^st, and we all enjoyed their surprise and their visit.” Pitt was Moses’ eldest son who lived in New Jersey. Today, Moses may be considered three years away from retirement. In 1918, he was mid-career with no retirement in sight. What were the physical barriers of a scenic artist working in the early-twentieth century versus now?

There are a few things to consider about the careers of scenic artists during the early twentieth century. The first is that they were not working on the floor, most painted on a vertical frame, one that moved up and down. Aged scenic artists didn’t have to crawl around on the floor to tack down a drop, or bend over to paint some little detail. They did not spend a lifetime having to suddenly drop to the floor or kneel for extended periods of time.

Thomas G. Moses working at Less Lash Studios in New York, ca. 1910.

How long could scenic artists work during the late-nineteenth and early twentieth century? Until death. If you don’t have to kneel down, and the painting was at a comfortable height, why stop working? With no social security net, stopping work at any point might not be an option. Take away the physical obstacles and you could paint as long as your mind stayed sharp.

It’s pretty simple if you deconstruct the early-twentieth century painting process. What are the greatest obstacles that an older artist may encounter in a shop if they are above the age of 60? Kneeling, crouching and climbing. I am almost fifty-one years old and consider myself in pretty good shape. I am overweight, but I have remained active my whole life and spent hours working on the floor. Starting out as a dancer, the flexibility remains with me – so far. That being said, I can no longer crawl around on my hands and knees for extended periods of time anymore, without suffering the next day. I had a big epiphany a few months ago when I was painting an ad drop on a motorized paint frame at the University of Minnesota, Duluth. I was putting in an ungodly amount of hours, all by myself, yet did not feel the strain. Although I enjoyed what I was doing, the key for me was painting on a vertical paint frame. At every step of the process, my painting was at the perfect height. No over-reaching, no crouching and no straining. Why would I need to ever retire if I could physically do the work I love?

There is another thing to keep in mind about the early-twentieth century American scenic studio that is really important– journeyman artists had assistants. That is not the case with every journeyman artist now, especially if you freelance and do not enjoy a permanent position. These young assistants, “pot-boys” (for filling pots of paint), would tack up the drop on a vertical frame, prime it and possibly base-coat many of the basic colors. If you were at the top of your profession, you may only need to show up to paint the complex part of scene, adding in flourishes to add dimension and sparkle. There are pros and cons to our industry at every step it seems.

The industry really began to change in the 1920s – and then completely shifted in the 1930s during the Great Depression. Scenic artists noted the shift in their memoirs and in newspaper articles. Those who recalled the changing times at the end of their life detailed the cause of change in scenic art. A few years back, I read a series of letters between John Hanny and Dr. John Rothgeb from 1979. They are now part of the Rothgeb collection at the University of Texas, Austin. Hanny was hired at Sosman & Landis by Thomas G. Moses in 1906; he was 16 years old at the time and earning $6 a week. Although his salary increased five-fold in six years, by 1920, he and four other artists left to form Chicago Service Studios. That business only lasted six years. In 1926 Art Oberbeck of ACME studios of Chicago bought the studio. Hanny’s scenic art career was tumultuous at best beginning in the mid-1920s.

When asked by Dr. Rothgeb in 1979 to describe the era from 1900 to 1929, Hanny wrote the following:

“The depression of 1929 just about stopped the production of stage scenery – at least in Chicago. Road shows, musicals, etc. if any were being produced in New York and Hollywood. At this point all the studios disappeared but the scene painter just couldn’t disappear and had to become freelancers. There was no such thing as a steady job and the boys were hard put to find a day’s pay. Most of the following 10 years were really tough and 1929 proved to be a big change in our business, in purpose, in design, paint and other materials.” Hanny goes onto describe the emergence of a new theatrical supplier: “These were not Scenic Studios but rather combinations of carpenter and machine shops equipped to turn out booths, revolving turn tables, electrical effects and so on. The art was done in any available loft or vacant store space.”

This is when scenic art shifts from an art, to a craft; no longer does painted illusion drive the industry, it almost becomes an after thought of the production process. Yes, there are exceptions.

Hanny continues, “The biggest change to us painters was our paints. Luminal Casein was pretty well established as a very practical and useful medium so, it, and show card color was the norm. So – no more ‘dry’ colors – no more soup bowls or hot size, and of course no more paint frames. Drops, if any were painted on the floor.” THIS is a turning point in American scenic art. We abandon something that worked incredibly well for over a century. Not everyone transitions to floor painting, and pockets remain with scenic artists continuing to paint on vertical frames – just look at Hollywood. Scene painting continues to thrive there more so than anywhere else in the United States.

With the shift from painting on a vertical frame to the floor for live theatre and industrial shows, standard techniques and tools also changed. Hanny recalled, “The house painter’s sash brush came into use and many of the former ‘tools’ such as snappers and center-poles and others were no longer needed. The folding 2 ft. brass bound rule gave way to the yard stick.”

When this industry wide change occurred, Hanny was in his forties and Moses was at the end of his career. I cannot imagine watching my entire life’s work be condemned as “old fashioned” as much pictorial realism went out of vogue. Think of the theatre world that Moses entered in 1873. He was from the generation of scenic artists who chummed together on sketching trips to gather resources. The generation who took art classes together at fine art academies and garnered some of the top salaries in the theatre profession. This was all ending, faster than any of them realized.

We talk about evolution in the theater industry; technological innovations that herald change and produce ever-better products. Sometimes the only way to forge ahead is to forget the past. If we don’t look back, we can’t lament what is lost. Such was the case when the golden age of American scenic art came to an end. 1880 to 1914 is what I consider the golden age of scenic art. Yes, I am sure there are many who disagree with those dates. Much scenic art training simultaneously shifted to academic institutions around this same time. This created a very different atmosphere, a departure from scenic studios that began training sixteen-year-old boys.

As with everything, a massive shift in any industry affects the accepted standards. What we consider “beautiful” or even “acceptable” is sometimes based on the lowest common denominator. As with many things, “quality” work is relative to accepted industry standards and the times.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 982 – Scenic Artists and WWI Camouflage, 1918

A while back I explored the career of Gerald V. Cannon, of Joy and Cannon Scenic Studio in St. Paul, Minnesota. Although the life of the firm was brief, each co-founder certainly made his mark on the world. At the time that I was researching Cannon’s life, I stumbled across multiple references to his military career and work for the US marines. Cannon organized the first unit to specialize in the brand new art of camouflage in 1918. He gathered together a group of scenic artists and once they learned the painting procedure, they were split up among the services. Cannon chose the marines.

Artists were tasked with painting large camouflage canopies during WWI.

Here is a 1918 article about Cannon’s project that I came across this week:

On February 27, 1918, the “Los Angeles Evening Express” reported “Scenic Artists to Mobilize as U. S. Aid in World Conflict” (page 12). Here is the article:

“Scenic artists in Southern California theaters are included in a country-wide plan to mobilize all of their craft in this country for war purposes. The scheme is being worked out by G. V. Cannon – appropriate name – of St. Paul, Minn., and is understood to have the sanction of the war department. The plan is explained in the following letter from Mr. Cannon, which has been received by attaches of local theaters:

‘The English and French governments have organized the artists of the countries, especially the scenic artists, to work in naval yards, as well as in the fields with regular army, for the purpose of painting large tarpaulins and canvas covers to mask field guns, and they grasped the value of the scenic artist, with his experience, with his wide experience and talent and reproduction and color. They have taken these artists with their various color schemes and composition to completely mask a series of field guns, or paint the sides of a battleship in nature’s true colors and the ocean and waves, so that it has completely baffled the enemy’s submarines to as near as half mile, and, at that distance, in many cases, they have made such poor targets that the submarine has had to maneuver around until it was detected and fired upon. This plan applies to transports on which the American government will have to spend every effort available to guard the loves of its men. Another feature of painting boats is in the painting of a huge wave on the bow of a battleship, this is being the chief method of judging the speed that a boat is traveling. This gives the enemy the impression that the boa is traveling at half speed. There are possibilities too numerous to mention on the value of scenic backgrounds, or fooling the enemy with paint. This plan is being put up to the war department by some of our leading artists and naval men. Among some of the nation’s leading advocates is Joe Cannon, former speaker of the house representatives, who in past years was a decorator and who realizes the value of the work. He is at present working in our interests as a personal favor to myself. So let us hear from all scenic artists who are interested in helping Uncle Sam down the Kaiser, by sending their name, address and age along with past experience and ability to me. – G. V. Cannon, 378 South Wabasha street, St. Paul, Minn.’”

In 1950, Cannon was featured in the “Star Tribune” article, “Minnesota’s ‘Little Marine’ Just Keeps Growing” (5 Nov. 1950, page 21). I am also including this article in its entirety for context.

From the “Star Tribune,” 5 Nov. 1950, page 21.

“There’s a line in one of the censored verse of ‘Mademoiselle From Armentieres’ which goes ‘The little marine he grew and grew.’

The boys hereabouts seem to think that if a line ever applied to anybody in real life, it applies to Jerry Cannon.

More sedately, he’s Gerald V. Cannon, a scenic artist by profession who still makes up an occasional Marine Corps float or a spectacular sign. Its come to be a habit through 33 years of association with the corps.

Cannon will be present at the corps 175^th anniversary dinner Friday night at the Nicollet hotel. Governor Youngdahl, Mayors Hoyer of Minneapolis and Delaney of St. Paul and various other functionaries also will attend, along with wives and mothers of marines now in service.

He now is national service officer for the Marine Corps league, the only veterans’ organization incorporated by act of congress. He is also state service officer under the auspices of the department of veteran’s affairs.

In that job, he is but carrying on a practice built up on his own time between two wars. Cannon was a marine in World War I. Prior to that he had been called upon to organize the first unit to specialize in the brand new art of camouflage. Cannon gathered together a half gross of scenic artists. When they had learned what they had to know, they were split up among the services. Cannon chose the marines and began an extra-curricular career from which he never since has been separated for long.

After the war he helped found three marine groups, each of which perished through inaction. But Cannon made it his business to keep in touch with marines and marine veterans and to pull what wires were necessary to help them.

He became a sort of special in veterans’ rights and made up for his small stature by fast talk and aggressiveness.

When World War II came along, Cannon had retired from the reserve as a captain with 100 per cent disability because of a heart condition. He went right back in, as a staff sergeant attached to the When Cannon enlisted in WWI he listed a health concern, there was foul-up; he got orders to report to Parris Island for boot training. A few days nearly did him in. Representative Melvin Maas rescued him by getting the orders changed and Cannon was shipped back to Minneapolis.

During the subsequent years, he indulged in his hobby of helping out marines and ex-marines. After being discharged he went to the Marine Corps league as a service officer.

His years of association with the marines have been a great help in cutting red tape. On his frequent trips to Washington, Cannon first-names big brass and walks right into offices which would be at least temporarily off-limits to almost anyone else.

Cannon through the years has loaded himself with Marine Corps lore, and documented a good bit of it by collecting relics.

He was a scene designer, for instance, for an Otis Skinner touring company of ‘Kismet.” Among the props was a handsome ivory-handled knife – no stage piece but a real article from Tripoli, dating back to their time the marines made their historic landing there in 1803.

After the tour ended, the knife was presented to Canon. He now keeps its tip sheathed in tape because it’s supposed to be made of poisoned steel.

The knife gave him some anxious moments a few years ago, when he was running a restaurant in the Midway district and had it on display with other relics.

Someone broke into the place and took, among other things, the knife. Both because it was a valuable souvenir and a dangerous weapon as well, Cannon left no stone unturned to get it back.

At length he and the police tracked it down. A bunch of kids were playing with it, using it in a game of cops and robbers. (The knife will be on display at the State Theater when the movie ‘Tripoli,’ depicting the Tripoli incident opens there Friday. The timing of the picture and the dinner is purely coincidental.”

An avid collector, Cannon often picked up books and relics in his travels as a scenic artist. In an old history of the Civil war he found a penciled map indicating a gunroom at old Fort Jackson, at the mouth of the Mississippi, had been sealed up.

He got a government commission to open it and dug through three feet of cement. In the room he found many rare pieces including a dozen large lamps. One of them, given him by the government adorns his home at Cleveland Avenue and Ramsey county road B. The house is li furnished with similar items.

Among them are a couple of hand-wrought nails from the home of Betsy Ross. A marine happened to be guarding the place when Cannon visited as it was being repaired, and a wink from one marine to another seems to mean something.

Busy as he has been, Cannon foresees an even busier time ahead. For one thing, veterans are in a peculiar position, as far as their rights are concerned; while theoretically convened by provisions involving ‘hazardous duty’ or ‘simulated warfare,’ the United States is not actually at was. This, he thinks, will affect claims coming out of Korea.

The men who appeal to him for help, however, are confident of his ability. The little marine, they think, grew until he knows as much about the Marine Corps and its procedures as anybody up or down the line.”

I have explored the Gerald V. Cannon of Joy & Cannon studios in the past. For more information, see past posts 797-800.

Studio stencil for Joy & Cannon Scenic Co. on the back of a picture sheet at Triune Lodge in St. Paul, Minnesota.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 981 – John Hanny and the Chicago Service Studios, 1918

When there is a major disruption in production, industries change for the better or worse. WWI, the measles epidemic, the Spanish flu and the 1920-1921 recession all hit in a relatively short period of time. Factor in prohibition and it may have seemed like the end of the world. Many studios did not weather these storms. One dying company could fuel another in times of trouble, and such was the case when five Sosman & Landis employees left to form Chicago Service Studios in 1920. Troubles began with Thomas G. Moses resigned as President of Sosman & Landis to work for New York Studios during the fall of 1918. He wrote, “September 1^st, I resigned as President of the Sosman and Landis Company which severs my connection with the firm after thirty-eight years of service. I joined the New York Studios and expect to get a studio and an office to do business.” This must have signaled the end for his fellow scenic artists at the firm.

Service Studios was initially located at the corner of State and 20^th street in Chicago in a building that was previously known as the Marshall Field Store. The firm soon moved to 2919 W. Van Buren and set up an impressive space after when the Mashall Field estate sold the building. On June 26, 1921, the “Chicago Tribune” reported: “Old Time Marshall Field Store Building is Sold. The Marshall Field estate has sold the southwest corner of State and 20^th. 155×120, to L. R. Warshawsky, for $75,000. After the Chicago Fire Marshal Field & Co., then Field, Leiter & Co., used part of the property for their retail store for some time. Later they used it for wholesale purposes. It is now used for a scenic studio by the Chicago Service Studios. The property is improved with a four story building contains eight stores and eighteen flats with a two story building on the rear. Mr. Warshawsky intends to make extensive alterations and will use a portion for his automobile accessory business. S. C. Iverson of Hubbard Porter & Brother, represented both parties” (June 26, 1921, page 26). The scenic studio in the old Marshall Field Store, must have been a temporary situation as the new studio was prepared in 1920.

Design by John Hanny for the Chicago Service Studios.

Back of design by Design by John Hanny for the Chicago Service Studios.

Much of what we know about the founding of Service Studios was recounted by scenic artist John Hanny decades later. Hanny was one of the firm’s five founders. Originally a Sosman & Landis artist, Moses hired Hanny in 1906 at the age of 16. Near the end of his life, Hanny would write, “As I look back over the years, I now realize that I have had a full and exciting life – hopefully a productive one – and have known and rubbed elbows with some wonderful generous people including Tom Moses and Wm. Nutzhorn for which I am most grateful.”

In six years, from 1906 until 1912, Hanny progressed at Sosman & Landis’ to become one of their journeymen painters, going from a salary of $6 to $35 a week. Hanny recalled, “Came up the line by painting tormentors and grand drapery border, AD curtains – lettering excepted, surroundings for Front Curtains, Streets, and Olios, etc. Later complete Front Curtains surroundings and picture – figures excepted.”

Hanny wrote a brief biography of his career when asked about his experiences in 1979. On October 8, 1979, he wrote a letter to Dr. John Rothgeb, stating, “I stayed with Sosman & Landis until 1920 when four other men and myself decided to go it on our own and formed the Service Studios. We remodeled – with borrowed money, a Jewel Tea Co. barn of 18 horse stalls into a studio of five 24’ x 48’ and one 24’ x 38’ paint frames, plus floor space of 50’ x 50’ – This was the best equipped studio in Chicago – Sosman & Landis excepted.” Hanny’s mention of the remodeled space would have been the Marshall Field space described in the aforementioned “Chicago Tribune” article. Hanny went on to write, “We rented several frames to Hoyland and Lemle company on which to paint their Ad Curtains.” In 1924, the Hoyland-Lemle business address was listed as 6751 Sheridan Road in Chicago, the address as William Lemle’s residence (certified List of Domestic and Foreign Corporations for the year 1924). Hoyland and Lemle would continue to rent frames after Service Studios closed in 1926.

By 1926, the demand for painted scenery was beginning to wane and the firm was struggling. Service Studios sold out to Art Oberbeck of ACME Studios. Oberbeck had also started as a young artist at Sosman & Landis, two years before Hanny in 1904. In 1926 Oberbeck moved ACME Studios from 36 West Randolph Street to the Service Studios at Van Buren and Sacramento Street (2919 W. Van Buren).

Sales book page with both Service Studios and ACME studios stamp. ACME purchased Service Studios in 1926. Private collection.

On April 8, 1928, the “Indianapolis Star” included an advertisement about ACME Studios, noting, “Handling the largest amount of scenic work in Chicago and the United States, the ACME Studios products must necessarily reflect quality and completeness. The advertisement added, “All work is personally supervised by A. W. Overbeck [sic.], himself a scenic artist of ability who has spent more than twenty years in the profession. The firm delivered “stage dressings” for the new Granada Theatre of the U. I. Theatre Circuit, Inc. The company was credited with executing stage scenery and draperies for the U. I. Circuit, Inc., and furnishing stage settings and draperies for “numerous other large photoplay and legitimate theatres, such as Balaban & Katz, Marks Bros. and others” (page 74). ACME Studios was still located at 2919-23 Wes Van Buren St. in Chicago.

To be continued…

Travels of a Scenic Artist and Scholar: Documenting the Tabor Opera House Scenery Collection, 2020

The Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, has three distinct scenery collections. Scenic artists who delivered scenery to the venue include, Henry E. Burcky (1879), T. Frank Cox (1888), the Kansas City Scenic Co. (1902) and Sosman & Landis Scene Painting Studio of Chicago (1902). In 1901, the Elks purchased the Tabor Opera House that was built in 1879, remodeling the stage house and adding a fly loft. The original wing-and-shutter scenery was carefully tucked away in the attic, and new scenery purchased from Fred R. Megan, representing the Kansas City Scenic Co. By the way, Megan and Thomas G. Moses would later partner to establish Moses & Megan while they waited to purchase the Sosman & Landis name after the company closed in 1923. In regard to the Tabor Opera House, Kansas City Scenic Co. subcontracted some of their 1902 project to Sosman & Landis Studio.

The Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, was built in 1879 and renovated in 1901-1902.

Two months ago, I catalogued all of the scenery stored on the Tabor Opera House stage and have just finished creating conditions reports, replacement appraisals and a collections care management document for 105 pieces. I am heading back this fall to do the same for the scenery in the attic.

Some of the scenery on the stage of the Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, 1902.

While I was in the midst of creating the documents for the scenery on stage, Kenneth Kurtz contacted me about a tray in his slide collection. Years back he visited the Tabor Opera house with his wife and photographed some of the scenery, especially a few shutters stored in the attic. I also photographed some of the scenery in the attic on my 49th birthday in 2018, and knew what treasures were tucked away up there. In a very generous move, Kurtz send his slides to me this month and I was able to photograph a few projections that I have included with this post. I still have to digitize the photos, but they have been incredibly helpful for me.

The Tabor Opera House scenery collection is remarkable because it shows the shift of scenic art over time, as well as major players in the North American theatrical manufacturing scene. It is a treasure trove of scenic art examples. The collection also depicts a shift in stage hardware from 1879 to 1888 (the flat sheaves used on wings to slide onstage). It also depicts the shift in wing, shutter and roll drop scenery to and fly scenery and realistic interior settings. This is a wonderful theater that should be preserved for future generations. To learn more about visit https://www.taboroperahouse.net/

Scenery dating from 1888 in the attic of the Tabor Opera House, Leadville, Colorado.

Scenic piece painted by T. Frank Cox in 1888.

Signature on scenic piece painted by T. Frank Cox in 1888.

Scenic artist and architect, Tignal Frank Cox (1854-1940) painted scenery for the Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, in 1888. He was touring Colorado as a scenic artist and performer, marketing his artistic skills on stage as a “Lighting Artist” and “Tramp Artist.”

Please consider donating to the preservation of this remarkable theatre collection. Here is the link to the Tabor Opera House Preservation Foundation: https://www.taboroperahouse.net/donate

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 974 – The Coal Shortage, 1918

In 1918, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “As the ground hog saw his shadow on the 2^nd of February, we had fully six weeks more of winter. The government compelled us to stop work on five Mondays, which pleased us, as we were so short of work we could well afford to close for the day.” U.S. Fuel Administration ordered a general shutdown of industry and businesses in all states east of the Mississippi River for a period of five days, and ten succeeding Mondays.

From the “Chicago Tribune,” 29 Jan 1918 page 7.

WWI caused an energy crisis and there was a severe coal shortage in the United States at the beginning of 1918. Keep in mind that coal was a major fuel source that powered generators, furnaces, factories and more. “Heatless Mondays” were aimed to relieve a serious coal shortage that threatened to delay the shipment of war supplies to France. On February 2, 1918, the “Herald and Review” reported, “heatless Mondays were decreed by the fuel administration Jan. 17 as a measure to save coal and to relieve railroad transportation” (Decatur, Illinois, page 1). There was vigorous opposition from commercial interests, especially department stores. Theaters had their heatless day changed to Tuesday.

Newspaper were filled with articles on the coal shortage. From the “Rock Island Argus,” 16 Jan 1918 page 3.

On January 4, 1918, the “Ephraim Enterprise” reported, the government began to tighten its control over industry and business for the purpose of furthering war efforts and protecting the public” (Ephraim, Utah, page 4).

In addition to closing businesses for five Mondays, schools were closed and had abbreviated hours. Theatre matinees were cancelled, only open for a few hours in the evening. Chicagoans wrote letters to the newspaper pleading for fuel. Families with wood burning stoves sheltered their neighbors. Railroad companies dipped into their supplies, ensuring the continuation of city water in some areas. People froze to death during the bitter cold that hit the Northeast and Midwest. Coal stoves were converted to use Kerosene.

From the “Chicago Tribune,” 27 Oct 1918 page 72.

From the “Chicago Tribune,” 20 Jan 1918 page 5.

On January 10, 1918, the “Chicago Tribune” reported, “More industries may shut down unless relief comes. Many industries throughout the Atlantic states closed their doors tonight under the paralyzing influence of the growing coal famine. New York, New Jersey and Massachusetts, hardest hit of the coalless districts, tomorrow will face the prospect of part time business only for lack of heat and power. Fifty-one public schools in New York closed their doors yesterday, and others will be compelled to follow their example today because of empty coal bines. In Massachusetts business houses have been called upon by Fuel Administrator J. J Storrow to limit their hours to 9 o’clock in the morning to 5 in the evening. Boston theaters have been ordered to close at 10 o’clock, along with bowling alleys and all other places of amusement. A similar order was sent to saloons” (page 3).

Additional articles from Washington D.C, noted, “The fuel administration came in for sharp criticism in the house today. Representative Madden of Illinois said the ‘coal operators are getting rich at the expense of the overburdened taxpayers,’ and Representative Foster of the same state, who was in charge of the bill, declared that if the government cannot control prices it should take over the mines.”

On February 8, 1918, the Administration’s “Heatless Mondays” was abandoned after five weeks.

From “The Herald,” Crystal Lake, Illinois, 20 Jan 1918 page 5.

From the “Tamaroa Times,” Tamaroa, Illinois, 5 Dec. 1918 page 7.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 969 – The State of Sosman & Landis, 1917-1918

At the close of 1917, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “We have had a good year as far as quantity is concerned, but I hope we have made some money. The payroll has kept up on account of the night work. The greatest handicap to a profit sharing business is procrastination among the managers. The eleventh hour idea of getting scenery, we can either take it, or work night and day to get it out on a close margin, or let it alone and allow someone else to creep in and steal our business. No vacation this year and very little picture painting. Quit the camp very early.” In 1918, Moses wrote, “Our business is not good – far from it. Raw material has advanced so rapidly that we are unable to keep up with it, and I am very much worried about the outcome.” By summer Moses wrote, “I have not been out to Fox Lake this year, the first I have missed in twelve years. The business is in such an upset condition that I felt I should stick to it.” But Moses couldn’t weather this particular storm, and by the end of summer in 1918 wrote, “September 1^st, I resigned as President of the Sosman and Landis Company which severs my connection with the firm after thirty-eight years of service. I joined the New York Studios and expect to get a studio and an office to do business…The Sosman and Landis Company have only done $85,000.00 worth of work for the past year. We should have done about $116,000.00 worth to make money.” It was not until 1923 that Moses and Fred R. Megan would purchase “the name and good will of Sosman and Landis Company.”

Like many American studios, Sosman & Landis weathered many economic downturns since their establishment in 1877. Although WWI provided a brief period of economic growth, an economic recession continued after WWI. As military veterans returned to civilian life, there was a surge in the labor pool and problems ensued as veterans were absorbed back into peace-time production. This also affected the theatre industry. During the war years, there was a certain percentage of work directly related to wartime propaganda and patriotic-themes shows. However, between January 1920 and July 1921, America dipped into a depression. Ironically, this is the same time that Prohibition began. There are a few economic factors to consider as I examine the life and times of Moses before his purchase of the Sosman & Landis name in 1923. I believe that Moses’ 1918 departure signals the end of the firm. With both founders gone. Moses was the institutional memory and intimately connected with most of the projects since 1880.

In April 1917, Congress declared war on German. By October 1917 Congress passed the War Revenue Act. This bill lowered the number of tax exemptions while increasing tax rates. For example, an individual with a $40,000 annual income was subject to a 16 percent tax rate, while an individual with an income of $1.5 million was subject to a 67 percent. Tax revenue increased from $809 million in 1917 to a whopping $3.6 billion in 1918, a much-needed increase for adapt for war-related expenses.

Keep in mind that between 1916 and 1918 the U. S. expenses for troop training, weapons and munitions increased fifteen fold. This means that by the time World War I ended, income tax generated from the War Revenue Act had paid for only one-third of all war expenses. Spending outpaced funding for the war, and the government implemented the sale of war bonds to help cover the gap. By the spring of 1918 the federal government had sold approximately 10 billion dollars worth of war bonds and treasury certificates. There is a fascinating article about the Federal Reserve’s role in WWI too: https://www.federalreservehistory.org/essays/feds_role_during_wwi

As American went to war, there are a few factors to consider about its citizens. In 2017, “The Saturday Evening Post” published an article on “The Average American Today and on the Eve of World War I,” noting, “What it means to be an ‘Average American’ today is in many ways so different from what it meant a century ago, when the United States entered World War I.” Here are a few numbers provided in the article:

In 1917, there were 103 million Americans.

In 1917, 86% of the American population was Caucasian.

In 1917, American women couldn’t vote, couldn’t obtain birth control, and had a life expectancy on 49 years. The life expectancy of American men was 47 years.

In 1917, 14% of American homes had bathtubs with running water.

In 1917, 18% of American households had one live-in servant.

In 1917, only 10% of American men graduated from high school.

1917 postcard for sale on Etsy:
https://www.etsy.com/ie/listing/769442304/1917-patriotic-postcard-with-flags?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=1917+postcard&ref=sr_gallery-1-3

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 955 – New York Studios and Youngstown, Ohio, 1917

In 1917, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “A good contract came in from Youngstown, Ohio, to replace some New York Studios work.” It is difficult to determine which Youngstown theater Sosman & Landis delivered scenery to that year. We know it was not a new theater though, as the contract was to replace scenery previously installed by New York Studios.

New York Studios was the eastern affiliate of Sosman & Landis. Former Sosman & Landis employee, David H. Hunt, established the firm in 1910. What makes Moses’ entry interesting, however, is Moses’ entry about New York Studios the year before. In 1916, he wrote, “Our business relations with the New York Studios are a bit strained, and we have notified them that hereafter there would be no restricted district for us, and we did not care what they did. Pennsylvania and New York used to be our very best states, and we were going after them again.”

Sosman & Landis depended on repeat customers, as did most scenic studios, including New York Studios. Therefore, Sosman & Landis targeting a theater with existing New York Studios scenery, especially after Moses notified Hunt that there would be no restricted districts, certainly reinforced his stance.

I have explored New York Studios in many past posts. Here is the most recent post with additional information about Hunt and his studio https://drypigment.net2020/03/11/tales-from-a-scenic-artist-and-scholar-part-928-restricted-districts-and-new-york-studios-1916/

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 928 – Restricted Districts and New York Studios, 1916

1927 advertisement for New York Studios.

In 1916, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “Our business relations with the New York Studios are a bit strained, and we have notified them that hereafter there would be no restricted district for us, and we did not care what they did. Pennsylvania and New York used to be our very best states, and we were going after them again.” To fully understand Moses’ sentiment, we need to look at Moses relationship with the founder of New York Studios, David H. Hunt. First of all, Moses never cared for Hunt.

After establishing the unsuccessful theatrical management firm of Sosman, Landis & Hunt in 1894, Hunt convinced Sosman to invest in another scenic studio in 1910, New York Studios. The new company was promoted as the eastern affiliate of Sosman & Landis, well… kind of. Since the 1880s, Sosman & Landis maintained regional offices across the country, but these were mutually beneficial relationships. For example, in 1887 Sosman & Landis established a branch in Kansas City, Missouri, under the direction of Lemuel L. Graham; it was known as the Kansas City Scenic Co., but Lem also did business under his own name too. In the late 1880s Sosman & Landis also established a regional office in New York City. Multiple locations were the key to success. Just like we hear “shop local,” that sentiment held true in the late-nineteenth and early twentieth century for theatrical projects. Visiting a studio in a nearby town was far better than hiring the unknown firm from a distant studio.

The real issue was that Hunt’s business plans, first and foremost, benefitted Hunt and not his investors or affiliates. In other words, New York Studios gained a massive support network such as Sosman & Landis staff, connections, materials and studio space. I have yet to figure out if there was really any added benefit for Sosman & Landis, but for whatever reason, Sosman had a soft spot for Hunt and went along with many of his schemes. When Sosman passed away in 1915 and Moses was elected president of Sosman & Landis, Hunt no longer had an advocate at the Chicago studio and the gravy train abruptly halted. So, when Moses wrote, “Pennsylvania and New York used to be our very best states, and we were going after them again,” he really threw down the gauntlet at Hunt and a feud began, . The two studios would now wrestle over territories. Moses previously played by an old set of rules, based on respect and gentlemen’s agreements; he was unprepared for the next generation of studio owners as the playing field changed. Hunt was ruled by a different set of motivators – his own self-interest. In all appearances, Hunt was a slick talker and salesman. So, here is the background between Moses and Hunt…

Moses first met Hunt in 1893, and the two soon paired off on quite a few projects by 1894. In 1897, however, Moses and Hunt began to disagree. That year Moses recorded an event that concerned Edith Chapman’s production of “Charity Ball.” This is the beginning of a truly unhappy relationship. Here is what Moses wrote:

Mr. Hunt found fault with my neutral coloring and said one day, “Why don’t you make some positive color decoration like pink or green?”

I had the first act of “Held by the Enemy” on the frame – a southern interior.

I said, “Alright, I will make this a pink wall and cream colored woodwork.”

“Fine,” said he. I did so. I did not consult Miss Chapman as usual. The scene was set. I was in front as usual during the performance. Miss Chapman entered. I saw her look up the scene and almost fall back. She had on a shell pink, deep flounced and a very full hoop skirt.

I nearly fainted. I was sick. I rushed back at the close of the act and found her in tears. As soon as she saw me, she said, “Oh, why did you do it – didn’t you know I was going the limit on my dress?” She had forgotten that I did not consult her as I usually did. I pointed to Mr. Hunt. “There is the one I tried to please.” Hunt then realized he was wrong, and I had been right all season. I painted out the wall color the next morning, for it simply killed Miss Chapman’s dress, as there was so much of it.”

That same season Moses continued, “The different newspapers gave our work splendid notice every week. For one paper on which Mr. Montgomery Phister was the critic, and his son was the artist, I made a heading for each week’s article on the play at the Pyke – drawing in ink the principal scenes. Hunt never knew that I did it – he flattered himself the paper was doing it. Phister had been a scenic artist in his young days and was in full sympathy with the artist.

One day he said to Hunt for a joke – “I think Moses uses too much raw umber.”

Hunt repeated this to me as his own idea. I was sure someone that knew color had been at Hunt, so I said, “Raw Umber! What kind of color is that? I don’t use it at all.”

He was stumped and didn’t know what to say. He went back to Phister, who in turn told me. We had a hearty laugh over it.”

I bet they did, and then the battles increased in intensity. The war began in earnest during one of Sosman’s absences from the studio in 1910, likely prompting the establishment of New York Studios.

That year, Moses wrote, “Mr. Sosman went to Europe on January 30^th for an extended trip…He had a good bookkeeper, and I depended on him a great deal. I did some hustling while he was away. Mr. Hunt was secretary and treasurer, and expected to run the business, but I wouldn’t allow it. Mr. Hunt kept on the road most of the time… I heard some reports as to what Hunt had reported to Sosman about my treatment towards him. I got mad and wanted to quit. Sosman wouldn’t listen to me…Hunt remained away from the studio for some time, before going back home.” This is when Hunt establishes New York Studios, partially funded by Sosman. I have to wonder if Sosman only invested in Hunt to separate the two, attempting to keep peace. Of the company, Moses wrote, “Hunt had started a New York studio in New York City, and he expected us to do a great deal of work, as he had Sosman invest a small amount.” But there were other contingencies, including the restricted districts that in 1916 Moses chose to ignore. So when one reads Moses 1916 entry, “Our business relations with the New York Studios are a bit strained, and we have notified them that hereafter there would be no restricted district for us, and we did not care what they did,” it takes on a whole new meaning.

In the end, Moses may have picked the wrong man to do battle with that year.

To be continued…