Part 535: W. H. Clifton, Stage Carpenter for Sosman & Landis
In 1905 there were two articles about a Sosman & Landis stage carpenter in the “Weekly Journal-Miner” (Prescott, Arizona, 1 Feb. 1905, page 2). In February, W. H. Clifton finished installing the curtains and scenery at the Elks Opera House in Prescott, Arizona. It was a name that I had not encountered before and decided to do a little digging. By 1905, Clifton had worked at Sosman & Landis for fourteen years.
The earliest mention of Clifton working for Sosman & Landis was in 1889. That year the “Sterling Gazette” reported, “Mr. W. H. Clifton of Sosman & Landis, stage furnishers and scenic artists of Chicago, returned to Chicago this morning after completing his work in the Wallace Opera House. He has been engaged for the past two weeks in fitting up an entirely new outfit of scenes and stage appliances, and has done his work well. The Opera House now has, for its size, one of the best furnished stages in the state outside Chicago” (19 April 1889, page 3).
Thomas G. Moses grew up in Sterling, Illinois, before moving to Chicago where he became a scenic artist. In 1878 Moses returned to Sterling to paint scenery for various of venues. His incentive to return home was to marry his childhood sweetheart Ella Robbins. Moses continued to work as a scenic artist in Sterling after his marriage, painting an advertising drop and later some scenery for a “barn storming company.” Soon he was employed to both decorate Sterling’s Academy of Music and paint ten full sets of new scenery for the theater. But there wasn’t enough work in Sterling to keep him there.
Moses returned to Sterling again in 1886 to repaint many of the Academy of Music scenes; this was the same year that his daughter, Lillian Ella Moses, was born. In 1886 Moses wrote that he was in Sterling “to repaint the work I did eight years ago. It didn’t look good and I soon made an improvement over the old stuff.” The Academy of Music was a 900-seat theater illuminated with gas and electricity. The proscenium measured 35 feet high by 30 feet wide. The depth of the stage was 40 feet from the footlights to the back wall. The height of the grooves was 16 feet. A decade later in 1896, Charles J. Kennedy was listed as the scenic artist for this venue in Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide.
Harry Miner’s American Dramatic Directory for the season of 1884-1885 listed the Wallace Opera House as being a 1000-seat theater with a 21×23 stage, and “fair stock scenery.”
“The Sterling Gazette reported that same year, “The opening of the Wallace Opera House, tomorrow, promises to be one of the great theatrical events in the history of Sterling. The house has been thoroughly renovated and equipped with new and costly scenery, painted by Sosman & Landis, of Chicago, which is being put into place today, under the personal supervision of this celebrated firm of scenic artists. The attraction selected for the opening could not be better. The Gorman’s Spectacular Minstrels, is one of the leading recognized legitimate attractions on the road and that the opening will be a proud success there can be no doubt, as manager Lawrie has pledged the hearty support of our leading citizens. He has also received word from Prophetstown, Prairieville and Milledgeville that goodly crowds will come from those places. The Gorman’s have made it a feature to cater to the better classes, and this fact being so well known the wealth and culture of Sterling will be fully represented. The sale of seats has been very brisk and lovers of refined merriment of the very high order of excellence should procure seats as early as possible and avoid the rush which is sure to be at the door at night. This house will be opened to stay and the management and its support promise to furnish theatre-goers with nothing but the very best attractions” (The Sterling Daily Gazette, 3 April 1889, page 2).
Wallace Opera House advertisement from the “Sterling Daily Gazette,” 3 April 1889, page 2
Part 471: Stage Hands – “Theatre People You Don’t See”
“Stage Hands “The Chicago Tribune” (11 June 1902, Page 4)
Today’s installment is a little lengthy, but I have seldom encountered descriptions about the backstage process. It is easy to find information about the performers or artists, however, insight into the activities of a stagehand during a turn-of-the-twentieth century show is rare. Months ago I encountered an article about “Stage Hands” in “The Chicago Tribune” (11 June 1902, Page 4). It was republished across the country in 1902, including “The Boston Sunday Globe (22 June 1902, page 51).
Once again, I was astounded at the sheer number of individuals employed working in the backstage area; moving lines, lights and scenery, all at the stage manager’s cue. It’s the highly organized process from start to finish. I think that sometimes we forget that the complexity of the backstage activities over a century ago. Here is “The Chicago Tribune” article in its entirety:
“Stage Hands.
Behold now how many and what different results a little thing will accomplish. A fat man in soiled white shirt sleeves, standing just beyond the right edge of the curtain, presses three electric buttons, one after the other, with his pudgy forefinger.
Illustration from “The Chicago Tribune” (11 June 1902, Page 4)
One of the buttons rings a bell up above in the electrician’s gallery. The electrician, whose blue shirt is open at the neck — it is hot behind the scenes — throws three or four switches and all at once the auditorium lights flame out, the footlights blaze up, strip lights hanging in the scenery are lit, and bright spot lights, at each of which a man is stationed, begin to make circles of especial brilliancy in various places on the stage.
The second button pressed by the stage manager rings a bell down in the musicians’ room under the stage and a dozen hot and perspiring men stop their games of pinochle, put on their coats, and climb up the stairs which lead to the orchestra pit. For answer a red electric bulb glows on the little shelf before the stage manager and he knows that order has been obeyed.
The third signal summons all the stage carpenters to stand by the pieces of scenery to which they are assigned in readiness for the quick change at the end of the first scene.
Meanwhile, a tall youth in an evening coat that is far too long for him goes running down into the deep basements, where the supers dress, and up three or four or five flights of stairs by the dressing-rooms of the principals, wailing, “Overture! Overture!” He is the call-boy, and it is his duty to sound the warning to every actor half an hour and fifteen minutes before the performance begins and also when the orchestra begins to play the overture. Meanwhile the actors and actresses in fashionable clothes and lacy summer costumes begin to gather in a crowd on the stage. Mingled with them are property men, clearers, grips, and carpenters, giving the last touch to some detail of the stage setting. The stage manager gives a final glance at the big clock. He notes the exact time on the blank schedule hanging on the wall before him, claps his hands, calls, “Clear the stage” and all the people you don’t see vanish into the wings.
Illustration from “The Chicago Tribune” (11 June 1902, Page 4)
But they work behind quite as hard as the actors are working before the scenes. A property man sets down a bottle of beer and two glasses in the wings, just where it can be found by the stage waiter, who will need it in five minutes. Nine stage carpenters are standing, each with a firm grasp on a certain piece of scenery. Other property men are placing a lot of furniture and made pieces in an orderly row behind the last set at the back of the stage so that they may move it all forward when the time comes without an instant’s delay. High up in the fly gallery, fifty feet above the stage, nine husky men in overalls and shirt sleeves are pulling away at a long series of big ropes that run up as high as the rigging loft and down again over pulleys to the corners of various heavy pieces of scenery. Something like the ringing loft of a big church belfry is this fly loft, with its orderly rows of huge ropes and its men pulling and straining as they raise and lower heavy canvas ceilings, walls and flies into position.
Presently an actor speaks the last line of the first scene. At the cue the stage manager presses some more electric buttons. Every light in the house, back and front, goes out for a moment and a light auxiliary curtain drops down and cuts off the stage. Behind this curtain some dim lights are turned on. But even while it is still dark the fifty men who help to make the show a success, though they are never seen or heard, have jumped into their proper places and are hard at work. One gang pulls the old scenery out of the way and piles it up against the walls of the stage in certain defined places. Others rush forward, each man carrying a certain piece of new scenery to exactly its proper spot. The clearers carry away the old properties and the property men set in place everything that is needed for the second scene. The flymen have hauled up the old stuff out of sight and let down the new, and the electrician has rearranged his spot and strip lights.
The stage manager claps his hands again, cries, “Clear the stage!” presses the buttons that turn on the lights and raises the curtain, and the second scene is on.
“We’re a little slow today,” he says, as he writes down the exact minute on his schedule — which is like a railroad time table. “It took us a minute and a half to make that change.”
Now there are some fifteen minutes to pass before either property men or stage hands will have anything to do, and they scatter to spend the leisure time in different ways.
Altogether, for the handling of an elaborate product, like “The Suburban,” fifty-five stage hands and property men are required. The stage hands are under the direct command of the stage carpenter and his assistant. They are divided into carpenters and grips and flymen, there being eleven of the first class and nine of the second. There are two property men and ten clearers, the duty of the latter being to clear away in a hurry what the property men have placed with care. Then there are an even dozen electricians who have to look after all the many different electric and calcium lights, which are used in various scenes. Add the call boy, the stage door man, and half a dozen minor positions and it is easy to count up the company of fifty-five which the stage manager has under his command.
Illustration from “The Chicago Tribune” (11 June 1902, Page 4)Illustration from “The Chicago Tribune” (11 June 1902, Page 4)
When there comes a wait which gives stage hands a little leisure a crowd of them are likely to get together in the carpenter’s room under the stage, where a game of lotto, a first cousin of keno, or some other game is in operation. They pack the little room to suffocation and the excitement sometimes runs high, but the instant the stage manager’s warning bell sounds everything is dropped and each man gets into position without delay, for delay is the one thing which can never be forgiven in a stage hand.
On hot afternoons and nights others of the stage workmen go out into the alley about the stage door when they get a minute’s rest and get a breath of fresh air and other cooling refreshments. But always they are in sound of that warning bell.
Some rivalry exists between the property men and the stage carpenters, or at least the line between them is closely drawn.
Not for his life would a stage carpenter or grip lay his hand on any of the properties, even in an emergency, nor would a property man or clearer touch a piece of scenery, though it never were moved into place. The union rules and the pride of the profession both forbid such intermingling of functions.
Severe and unsparing critics of the speaking actors are these dumb and invisible “artists” of the stage. Let a new star go on for the first night and there will be enough biting and uncomplimentary things said about him and his work by the critics in dirty shirt sleeves who look down from the flies or stand in the entrances to make anything the newspaper may say the next morning sound like the sweetest flattery. They spare nobody. A great reputation will not cover faults to them. And as that many of them rarely if ever see a play from the front of the house. They look at bits of a thousand plays from between the wings and form their opinion from what they see.
Most of the responsibility for the stage effects rests upon the head carpenter and the property man. Every morning the stage carpenter has to make what is called a “pack” of all the different pieces of scenery. That is, he has to arrange it all in its regular order in a great pile leaning against the wall, so that the next piece wanted will always be next in the pile. On the outside of the pile stands the first piece needed in making the first change. On it in big letters are printed the words, “Keep alive,” which is stage talk for, “Don’t bury this piece under anything else.”
If there is a matinee the stage carpenter has to make a second “pack” between the afternoon and evening performances. The property man is charged with seeing that every little thing that is needed during the play is on hand and ready for instant use. Over them all reigns the stage manager. After each scene is set he casts a rapid and critical eye over it to see that everything is in exactly the right place and that carelessness has not marred any of the effects.
Part 378: 1899, Theatrical Scene Painting and Homer Emens, second half
The article “Theatrical Scene Painting” was published in “The Philadelphia Inquirer” on August 20, 1899, by James Clarence Hyde (page 46). Here is the second half of the article posted yesterday:
Homer Emens pictured on the paint bridge, from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.
“Mr. Emens, whose ancestors, by the way, were among the earliest Dutch settlers of New York, devoted several weeks to looking up authorities in the libraries, both public and private, and making the preliminary sketches. The scenario called for a drop showing the exterior of Peter Stuyvesant’s house; an interior of Whitehall, the Governor’s mansion; the old fort at the Battery and an exterior view of Whitehall. The play is in three acts and four scenes. Mr. Emens’ next step was to make the models.
Homer Emens pictured next to the model for “Peter Stuyvesant,” from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.Sketch for the play “Peter Stuyvesant,” from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.
A model looks very much like a toy theatre with the proscenium arch omitted. It is built on the scale of half an inch to the foot. In making these Mr. Emens is guided to a certain extent by the scene plot, a written and roughly drawn plan showing the entrances, exits, set pieces and the like that are required in the action of the play. This is outlined by the authors. In making the models as much care with regard to the details is taken as with the proposed scenery. Ever leaf and every stone is painted in watercolor.
The stage carpenters at work on scenery for “Peter Stuyvesant,” from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.
Upon the completion of these models duplicates are made to guide the scene builder. In the construction of this it is important to observe simplicity, so that the entire scene can be set up, or “struck,” in a few minutes. The models for the “Peter Stuyvesant” sets were turned over to Claude Hagan, an experienced scene builder. Some time elapsed before his work was completed and then the scenery, or rather, the unpainted canvas mounted upon skeleton frames, was sent to the Fourteenth Street Theatre, where Mr. Emens does his work.
Stage carpenters at work securing fabric for painting, from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.
The pictures taken at the Fourteenth Street Theatre expressly for the Inquirer, give an excellent idea of how things look in Mr. Emens’ workshop. The artist, you see, needs a good deal of room. He requires not only the paint bridge and paint frames, but the entire stage. The paint bridge is suspended forty or fifty feet above the rear of the stage. It is about ten feet wide and there are no protecting rails to prevent the artist or his assistants from stepping off into space. At one end of the bridge is the studio where the models are constructed; at the other end are the shelves where the supply of paint is kept. The paints are not mixed with oil, as many people imagine, but with “size,” or diluted glue. On either side of the paint bridge hangs a massive frame, big enough to hold any “drop” (the background of a scene) that may be desired. These frames are lowered to and hoisted from the stage by means of a windlass. This is where the scenic artist’s junior apprentice gets in his fine work and acquires a muscle that is useful later in life. Scenery is usually classified as drops (the backgrounds), wings (the side-pieces), borders (the cross pieces overhead), and set pieces (such as a fort or a bridge). This is the first step in preparing the scenery is, of course, to have it placed upon the frames by the boss stage carpenter and his assistants. The frame is lowered to the stage and the scenery nailed on, as shown in one of the pictures. Then it is hoisted to the level of the bridge and the painting begins. Another picture gives an excellent idea of this. You will observe Mr. Emens in the foreground at the drawing board. Back of him, at his left, is an assistant sketching in outline a border. In his right hand he holds a long stick to which a piece of charcoal is fastened, in his left the model of the border. Preliminary to this work the canvas had to be “primed,” that is, painted white, and then the body color was laid on. On Mr. Emen’s right another assistant is seen painting a drop, while near by a third is mixing the colors on a very substantial palette. In the background the junior assistant is busy with the pots of paint.
Homer Emens pictured on the paint bridge, from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.
One would probably wonder how such great effects are accomplished with the artist so near to the canvas.
How does he get his idea – of perspective – of atmosphere? The only answer to this is long years of study and experience. When the scenery is painted it is lowered to the stage. But there is still more to be done. In the case of a leafy border, for instance, the ragged outlines of the leaves have been marked with a thin red line, and all the intervening canvas has to be carefully cut out. In a third picture taken upon the stage, showing the carpenters and one of the artists at work upon a set piece, you will notice at the left, flat upon the stage looking a good deal like a mosaic floor, a piece of scenery. It is one of the borders, and from the canvas-littered stage you may know that busy hands with sharp knives have been cutting it out. This picture shows the boss carpenter seated at the right of the model of the old fort at the Battery in his lap. His assistants are fitting the fort together. The underpinning of the painted fort is strong enough to support several people, but it is so carefully constructed that it can be taken apart and placed flat against the wall in less than three minutes.
Perhaps in these few words an idea has been conveyed of the great amount of skill and labor required in preparing scenery for the stage, much has been necessarily left unsaid; the difficulty of getting up elaborate interiors, the use of stencils, the construction of practical waterways and a thousand and one things that a scene painter must know. He must combine the knowledge of a landscape artist of the first order, and architect and a builder. He must posses more than the ordinary patience, and then if he is a good business man he will have the happy consolation of a substantial bank account, even if the public are slow to accord him the glory that is his due.”
Part 370: The Machinery of the Grand Opera, 1897 (third section)
Here is the last of three posts concerning “The Machinery of the Grand Opera” by E. F. Keller:
Scenic artists at work on a paint bridge at the Metropolitan Opera in New York during 1897.
“This work, in any one of the heavy operas produced at the Metropolitan, requires the services of thirty-six stage hands. The entire force of men who work behind the scenes, out of sight of the audience, including property men and electricians and gas men, brings the number up to sixty persons. There are eight rows of border lights – namely, the lights across the stage behind the proscenium arch – and all of these, together with the remaining lights in the entire house, are worked from a single switchboard at the side of the stage.
The switchboard at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, 1897. Published in “Metropolitan Magazine.”
Of “drops” – which are the pieces of canvas upon which the scenes are painted – there are over three hundred in use in this establishment. Of set pieces, such as wings, rocks, pillars, outlined trees, and other examples of profile work, there are probably more than one thousand. When the scenic artists and carpenters began to make these pieces they were numbered and indexed systematically. But after the total reached six hundred or more the numbering process was abandoned, so that there is no definite knowledge at present on that score.
Photograph of the carpenter’s shop at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, from “The Machinery of the Grand Opera” by E. F. Keller, published in Metropolitan Magazine, 1897.Photograph accompanying “The Machinery of the Grand Opera” by E. F. Keller, published in Metropolitan Magazine, 1897.
The regular day force of carpenters employed as the Opera House numbers fifteen men, whose work consists of building new scenes and repairing old ones. In case there is a big production on hand, requiring entirely new scenery, this force of men is materially enlarged and often doubled.
Another exceedingly vital department is that which involves the manipulation of the light effects. This does not merely require a knowledge o the part of the operator as to whether the illumination in the auditorium or on the stage is at a proper height, but it also demands an intimate knowledge of the shades and colorings necessary to the production of atmospheric effects.”
Tomorrow we will continues with the life and times of Thomas Moses as he makes the decision to accept work in New York.
Part 369: The Machinery of the Grand Opera, 1897 (second section)
Here is the second of three posts of “The Machinery of the Grand Opera” by E. F. Keller:
“On the afternoon that all this interior working of the Metropolitan Opera House was being inspected by the writer, a rehearsal of “Carmen” was being held. One of the bridges was in use in the last act of the opera. It was lifted to a height of perhaps twelve or fourteen inches above the stage level, and eight or ten horses at a time were ridden over it at a gallop without producing so much as a tremor.
The bridges are used not alone for such purposes as the one described, but also in producing mountainous and rocky scenes. Any section of any one of the bridges can be lifted separately and held in position by steel pins; to the front of these elevations are attached painted pieces representing rocks, trees, etc., and their perfect security is a very important item, as the artists need have no other fear of falling platforms or other dangers commonly associated with built scenes.
Those who are familiar with the machinery of the stage have seen, either in actual use or in published illustrations, what are termed stage braces.
Stage braces, stored in a corner at the Scottish Rite in Moline, Illinois. Photograph from March 2017.Detail of stage braces, stored in a corner at the Scottish Rite in Moline, Illinois. Photograph from March 2017.Detail of stage braces, stored in a corner at the Scottish Rite in Moline, Illinois. Photograph from March 2017.Image of a stage screw from 1894-1895 Sosman & Landis catalogue.
These are long, sectional pieces of wood, with a sort of hook at one end and a piece of steel at the other, placed at such an angle that when the brace stands upright the steel lies flat upon the floor, where it may be fastened in place with a screw. These braces are erected behind the scenery to hold it in place and keep it from toppling over; as there is quite an angle from the point where they are screwed to the stage at the bottom, they take up a great deal of room and are constantly being tripped over by people who are wandering about or crossing the stage in the semi-darkness.
At the Metropolitan there are a number of upright posts, rigged with counter weights, that may be pulled up through the stage to any desirable height. To these the scenery is attached, with the advantage of saving space and also of making the scenery as firm and solid as the side of a house. This is a comparatively new contrivance that has been brought to its present state of perfection by C. D. McGiehan, the master mechanic and carpenter of the establishment. It was, indeed, Mr. McGiehan who built this stage, and who is quite naturally proud of it as the most perfectly constructed and appointed institution of its kind in the world.
One hundred and eighty sets of lines are used in hoisting and lowering the scenery of the Metropolitan Opera House.
Photograph of 180 sets of lines at the Metropolitan Opera in 1897, from “The Machinery of the Grand Opera” by E. F. Keller, 1897.
The making of these lines involved the use of one hundred and ninety coils of rope, each coil being about twelve hundred feet in length. Several truck-loads of these coils were brought to the stage door at the time the work of fashioning the lines was begun. On some of the modern stages of the country – as for instance, the Lafayette Square Opera House in Washington – the scenery is all operated from the stage by a series of counterweight cables so nicely adjusted that a whole scene may be lifted out of sight by one man. In building the stage of the Metropolitan Mr. McGiehan preferred a different system, and while the scenes are counterweighted so that they may be easily handled, the work is done entirely from the fly galleries. The wings and set pieces are handled by men on the stage itself.”
Part 368: The Machinery of the Grand Opera, 1897 (first section)
A few months back, I stumbled across an 1897 article, “The Machinery of the Grand Opera” by E. F. Keller. It provides a little more context for life and times of Thomas G. Moses during 1897-1898. This article is also is a good follow-up to “How Scenery is Made,” as Jos. A. Physioc worked at the Metropolitan Opera during the beginning of his career. This is the first of three posts:
A photograph from “The Machinery of the Grand Opera” by E. F. Keller, 1897.
“The great throngs of diamond-bedecked women and dress-coated men who gather from night to night in the enormous auditorium of the Metropolitan Opera House have little realization of the machinery, by which the magnificent stage pictures which pass like a living panorama, full of light and color, before their eyes, are produced. They see perfect groupings, great ensembles, perfect processions, and constant changes of scenery and lights, but it is not possible for them to comprehend the enormous amount of attention to detail and knowledge of the handling of masses of people and quantities of stage paraphernalia required for the bringing forward of these results.
A photograph from “The Machinery of the Grand Opera” by E. F. Keller, 1897.
The Metropolitan Opera House stage is one of the greatest in the world, and is certainly the most modern, in all its parts, of any of the big structures of its kind in Europe. When the building was partly destroyed by fire several years ago, it became necessary, among other things, to erect an entirely new stage, and this was done upon all the latest lines of invention.
The area occupied by the stage is one hundred and one feet in width and eighty-seven feet deep. The proscenium arch, which is fifty-five feet square, really gives but little indication of the great amount of space at the disposal of the scene shifters, carpenters, mechanics, electricians, scene painters, and property men who form the portion of the equipment of the establishment never appearing in sight of the audience.
In addition to the room at both sides of the visible stage, there is a great deal of space above and below which is constantly utilized. It is ninety feet from the level of the stage to the rigging loft – which is sometimes called the gridiron in the language of the theatre. There is the clear limit to which scenes may be hoisted without interference when they are pulled above the line of sight of the occupants of the audience room. Below the stage surface there is clear depth of twenty-eight feet to the base of the sub-cellar. By this double arrangement, above and below, sets of scenery and other articles may be either lifted up or lowered down, as the exigencies of the case may require.
Surrounding the stage, at the height of thirty-six feet, is the first fly gallery, upon which the men who handle the scenery are stationed. In the Metropolitan there are two other fly galleries above this one. Here the ropes are coiled or fastened, as may be necessary, and a great many of the changes of scenery are carried out.
The half of the stage nearest the audience is made in sections – some times called traps – that are easily removed for the production of scenic effects. The rear half of the stage is built in bridges, eight or ten feet broad, and crossing the entire width. These are supported by steel trusses readily hoisted by counter-weights to any desired height up to twenty-three feet above the floor level.
They are a great improvement over the old system, partly on account of the readiness with which they are lifted and fastened at any desired point, and partly for the reason that they are as firm and secure as the stage itself.”
A photograph from “The Machinery of the Grand Opera” by E. F. Keller, 1897.A photograph from “The Machinery of the Grand Opera” by E. F. Keller, 1897.A photograph from “The Machinery of the Grand Opera” by E. F. Keller, 1897.
Part 367: “How Theatrical Scenery is Made,” 1898 (profile pieces, part 4)
An article depicting Joseph A. Physioc’s studio and his art was published in “The World” (New York, 6 March 1898, page 43). It provides some insight into the construction of wings and profile pieces at the end of the nineteenth century. Here is the fourth of four installments describing Physioc’s studio and his artistic process:
Joseph A. Physioc in his studio, working on a model.
“The profile pieces or wings are painted after the carpenter has made the frames. He takes the designs and works out the best manner of making them strong and at the same time easily handled. Every thing must either fold up or roll up, and everything must be able to stand a strain and be light at the same time. In the hurry of scene changing and of loading and unloading, the scenery doesn’t receive the most delicate treatment.
Wood profile piece from the SOKOL Hall in St. Paul, Minnesota. The tree was able to be made one piece due to the low ceiling height on this small stage.Wood wing from the SOKOL Hall in St. Paul, Minnesota.
The skeleton work is made of strips three inches wide by one inch thick, and the joints are all braced. The background for the painting is in thin pieces of wood covered with flimsy, loose-metal material, which is glued on and which makes it very strong. Over this the canvas is stretched and the painting is done. The foliage of trees is carefully sawed out, and this is tedious work.
It may be remarked that a tree is never made all in one piece. The profile piece ends some nine or ten feet from the floor. The upper part of the tree is a fly. They are joined together so that the division is not seen.
The making of these flies, which must be perforated, is rather delicate. Not having any background support the Russian linen would soon tear. Therefore the foliage is glued onto stout netting with rather large meshes, and this must be done carefully or the whole fly will be ruined.
There are ever so many more mysteries in Physioc’s studio. You can see there how locomotives, old fashioned clocks, logs, books and ever so many things that look true to life on the stage are manufactured. You can see how rocks and waving grain are cut up in nine-foot sections that look like nothing in nature when they are not in position on the stage. But nothing is quite so extraordinary as that little stage where the models are tested.”
Illustration of Physioc’s property room, from “The World” (March 6, page 43, Physioc).
Side note:
A touring production of “The Bonnie Brier Bush” opened at the Theatre Republic in 1901. It also had scenery by designed by Physioc. This production is listed in the Internet Broadway Database. There is additional information about this show, here is the link: https://www.ibdb.com/broadway-production/the-bonnie-brier-bush-5495
Illustration depicting Act IV in “The Bonnie Brier Bush” – Pittsburg Press 3 March 1904, page 33
Part 364: “How Theatrical Scenery is Made,” 1898 (Physioc’s studio, part 1)
To fully understand the life and times of Thomas G. Moses, I am including a newspaper article describing a New York scenic studio from 1898. It provides great insight into the scenic art profession at the end of the nineteenth century. The article describes J. A. Physioc’s studio and his art. It was published in “The World” (New York, 6 March 1898, page 43). By 1899, Moses would also work in New York for Henry Savage at the American Theatre. Physioc was only one of many scenic artists whom Moses would compete with for work in the Big Apple. Here is a little background on Physioc to place him in context.
Joseph Allen Physioc (1866-1951) was born in Richmond, Virginia to J. T. Physioc. J. T. Physioc would later be listed as president of Physioc Studios, Inc., with his son and grandson as treasurer and secretary. The Physioc family moved to Columbia, South Carolina, when Joseph was four years old. Interestingly, one of Joseph’s childhood playmates was Woodrow Wilson (Tampa Times, 4 August 1951, page 2).
Physioc’s theatrical career started in small venues thoughout the south. He tried his hand in Alabama, and then headed to New York City after gaining some experience. He studied his trade at the Metropolitan Opera while working as an assistant designer (Index Journal, Greenwood, SC, 4 August, 1951, page 3).
By the age of 27, Physioc received a contract to stage Bernard Shaw’s “Arms and the Man” for Richard Mansfield at the Herald Square Theatre. His success with this play and others propelled him to rank among those at the top of his profession in New York. Physioc worked as Augustin Daly’s “house artist” at Daly’s Theatre in New York City and for twelve years traveled with Richard Mansfield as his “special artist.” Later in life, he moved to Columbia, returning to his family after his eyesight began to fail and he could no longer paint. In 1951, Physioc passed away at his son’s home (Joseph A. Physioc, Jr.).
Advertisement in Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide for Physioc Studio Co. from 1900.
I am posting this article describing Physioc’s studio and his artistic process during 1898 in four installments due to its length. It was the second line of the article that caught my eye when I was doing research, especially after delving into the histories of Strong, McDonald, and other scenic artists who belonged to the Theatrical Mechanics Association. The top scenic artists were also knowledgeable stage mechanics. Physioc was also an electrician.
Here is the first installment of the article:
“The studio of Physioc is a workshop as well. He says that no man can be a really successful scene painter unless he is also a stage mechanic. His success has made his opinion of value. He painted Daly’s and Mansfield’s scenery for years. The young man’s studio is a wonderful place. To begin with it is perhaps the largest in the world. It occupies the greater part of what was a five-story stable at No. 519 West Thirty-eighth Street.
The building was in the form of the letter U, Physioc filled the front with glass and roofed the open space with a skylight. You ascend to the studio by means of fire escapes on either side. Between them are suspended paint frames. The frames can be lowered forty feet. Four drops can be painted at one time. A cyclorama drop, that is, one which encircles the whole stage, ninety feet wide, can be painted without rolling. This is the advantage of the great space. The paint-bridge is always stationary.
Sectional of Physioc’s Studio from “The World” (New York, 6 March 1898, page 43).Detail of Physioc’s Studio from “The World” (New York, 6 March 1898, page 43).Detail of Physioc’s Studio from “The World” (New York, 6 March 1898, page 43).
In addition to the paint-bridge there are property rooms where all manner of things for the stage are made: the electric-light room, the model room and the miniature stage.
“Usually a scenic artist does nothing but paint,” says Physioc, “Yet he is held responsible for the whole setting and scene. The properties are very important accessories. Therefore I design and make them all. This insures a harmony, a completeness and accuracy which might be otherwise be lacking. I take it that the modern idea of stage scenes requires an artistic whole, a finished creation. I know exactly what the effect will be before a scene is painted.
I not only design the scene myself, but I make the accessories and arrange the lighting, which is almost as important as the scenery itself. I am not only a scene painter, but also function as the property man and electrician as well.
It is a strange and interesting art, this of scene painting. Time was when a painter made merely a drop and wings, or profiles. Now the scenic artist must make a composition. It is vastly different.”
This was 1898 and a crucial period during the development of degree productions for Scottish Rite stages in the Southern Jurisdiction. The scenery now used in Yankton, South Dakota, is from this same year.
1898 scene by Sosman & Landis Studio (Chicago) for Wichita, Kansas. This scenery is now in Yankton, South Dakota.1898 counterweighted lines by Sosman & Landis Studio (Chicago) for Wichita, Kansas. This counterweight system travelled with the used scenery collection and was installed in Yankton, South Dakota. Photograph from November 2017 with Rick Boychuk when we examined the rigging.
Part 351: Bestor G. Brown, “Masonic Stage Carpenter”
Bestor G. Brown (1861-1917) was another key individual in the development of Masonic stages during the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries. He was an instrumental figure in the promotion of Scottish Rite degree productions across the country.
Bestor G. Brown. Topeka Daily Capital, 14 February 1904, page 6.
Brown was born at Blufftown, Indiana during 1861. The Browns soon moved to Kansas with his parents. His father, George S. Brown was a law partner of Judge John Guthrie. Bestor attended public schools and became a reporter for the Topeka Daily Commonwealth at the age of 16. Later he was in charge of the city department before leaving to study law, attending the University of Michigan. In 1884, he married Emma Kellam, who died only a few years later. In 1891, he advertised as an investment banker in the Topeka Daily Capital with offices in rooms 6 and 7 of the Topeka Bank Building. Brown’s ads listed him as “a dealer in high grade municipal, county, school and corporation bonds. Trust certificates bearing from 5 to 8 percent interest issued to investors. Prime Commercial Paper a Specialty. Correspondence Solicited.”
However, Brown soon turned to Masonic regalia and paraphernalia sales, suggesting that this was quite a lucrative field for an ambitious Mason. It is important to note that up until this point he had no experience with technical theatre or commercial stages. In 1892, he listed residence as Chicago, moving just in time to be part of the preparation for the Columbian Exposition. Brown was based in Chicago from 1892 to 1898; working as a fraternal traveling salesman. He returned to Topeka, Kansas in 1899 and later moved to Kansas City by 1904, becoming the western sales manager of M. C. Lilley Company.
Letter head for western representative, Bestor G. Brown, of the M. C. Lilley & Co.
Brown was reported to be “one of the most profound students of freemasonry and ritualists in the whole country” (The Kansas City Kansan, 11 July 1918, page 1). He was noted as “connected with practically every movement which Masons launched in Kansas for many years.” This was imperative if he was to sell fraternal regalia and paraphernalia.
Brown’s Masonic resumé included involvement in the Scottish Rite, York Rite, Midian Shrine, and the Order of the Eastern Star. He was also a member of the Odd Fellows, Knights of Pythias and organized several chapters of the Psi Upsillon Fraternity. Masonic work included being Grand Master for the Grand Lodge of Kansas; Past High Priest of the Grand Chapter, Royal Arch Masons of Kansas; Past Master (and one of the first members initiated) of Siloam lodge, No. 225, A.F. and A.M.; Past Grand Master of the Grand Council; Past Grand Commander of Knights Templar in Kansas; General Grand Scribe of the General Grand Chapter of Royal Arch Masons; a Past Grand Sovereign of the Grand Imperial Council of the Red Cross of Constantine; and at the time of his death was an officer in the national Grand Council. Brown also had the distinction of having sat at the Royal Lodge in London when King Edward presided (Fort Scott Daily Tribune, 12 July 1917, page 2).
An article on Bestor G. Brown, crediting him as the “only Masonic stage carpenter” in the country (Portsmouth-Herald, 12 July 1903, page 3).
Brown was also a traveling salesman and western representative of M. C. Lilley and an “authority on the costumes for Masonic Bodies, having made a deep study of the subject in France and England.” In 1903, the Portsmouth Herald reported that Brown, who was the new Grand Master of Kansas, had been “unusually active” in lodge, chapter and council work since his admission to the Fraternity in 1884.
He was praised for his devotion of Masonry and the article reported, “Mr. Brown is called the only Masonic stage carpenter in the country” (Portsmouth, New Hampshire, 12 June 1903, page 3). Less than a decade later, the counterweight system installed in Scottish Rite theaters by M. C. Lilley subcontractors (Sosman & Landis) was referred to as “”Brown’s special system.” My research suggests that the stage machinery was actually developed by the stage mechanics at Sosman & Landis, not by Brown. This would be understandable as Brown came from a banking background and had no experience with theatre technology or supplies prior to 1892.
Brown was the salesman and possibly marketing technology developed by Charles S. King, a long-term Sosman & Landis studio employee who had completed 200 theatre installations by 1899. King started his career as a stage carpenter and stage machinist in 1859 and began working for Sosman & Landis in 1884. In 1903 newspaper articles note that Brown “created and developed the application of modern scenic properties to the dramatic presentation of all Masonic degrees and in this work is almost invariably consulted everywhere throughout the United States.” Again, I think that he was associated with the system because he was selling the product and not the designer.
Brown died in 1917 at the Battle Creek sanitorium after a relapse following an operation for kidney complications. Brown was 56 years old. He was survived by his daughter, Mrs. Dana L. Davis of Topeka. For the past few years of his life, Brown had been living in Kansas City while continuing to work in the western offices of M. C. Lilley Co.
The first year after Brown passed away, members of the Wichita Consistory organized an annual pilgrimage to Topeka, Kansas, to honor of his memory (The Kansas City Kansan, 11 July 1918, page 1). The paper reported that Brown was “one of the most scholarly and best loved Kansas Masons. All of the Scottish Rite bodies in the state were invited to join in the placing of a floral tribute on the grave of ‘their best loved brother.’”
Part 336: The Broad Ripple Auditorium in Indianapolis, Indiana
Thomas G. Moses painted scenery for the Broad Ripple Auditorium in 1895. He also made a brief appearance as part of a theatrical management team– Moses & McDonald. This was shortly after Joseph S. Sosman, Perry Landis, and David Hunt started the theatrical management firm of Sosman, Landis & Hunt. A combination of touring vaudeville acts and creating a stock company eliminated the need to feature expensive touring stars. It appeared to be a winning proposition.
When the Broad Ripple Auditorium opened during August 1895, it was at an odd time. The Indianapolis News announced, “This cozy summer theater, although opened late in the season, is doing good business. The attendance is increasing nightly, which is the surest indication of success” (11 August 1895, page 10). It was marketed as being “complete with all the modern equipment” and a seating capacity of 1,200 (4 Aug. 1895, page 13). The newspaper article added that Moses & McDonald were not only the managers, but also the organizers of the the Auditorium Stock Company. The company presented standard dramas, supplemented with vaudeville acts. It was the Auditorium Stock Company that purchased the theater, funded by members that included R.C. Light, George J. Marott, Charles Kirschner, and a Mr. Eldridge.
Review of the new Broad Ripple Auditorium, managed by Moses & McDonald. Indianapolis Journal (4 Aug 1895 page 13).
Moses was also credited with the stock scenery collection and the Indianapolis New commented, “The scenery is by Thomas G. Moses, of the Schiller Theatre, Chicago, and the stage is 40×40 feet, with three sets of border and footlights” (4 Aug. 1895, page 13).
The opening play was “Fanchon, the Cricket,” a charming five-act play made famous by Maggie Mitchell. This show was followed by “The Smugglers,” “Mystic Mountain,” “Ten Nights in a Barroom,” “The Factory Girl,” and “Kathleen Mavourneen,” each attracting large crowds. Then something happened.
Just eleven days after opening, the Indianapolis News reported, “The Broad Ripple Auditorium will remain closed until next Saturday night, when ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ will be presented. Preparations are making for an elaborate production” (13 August 1895, page 7). There is no other mention of the show. It appears as if the production never took place at the Broad Ripple Auditorium. The next production for the venue was “Mabel Heath, or the Shadows of Home.” That was their last advertised performance. After that, the venue under the management of Moses & McDonald disappeared from the local papers.
Small advertisement for the Broad Ripple Auditorium squeezed between a soap and baseball. Indianapolis Journal (18 Aug 1895, page 6).
Unfortunately, the Broad Ripple Auditorium productions were poorly advertised; they appeared few in number, small in scale, and uninspiring in content. This would be understandable if the majority of Moses time was spent creating scenery for other venues. Little is known of “Moses & McDonald” beyond their brief partnership to manage the Broad Ripple Auditorium.
I had to wonder what had happened. Did this have anything to do with an inexperienced management team? There are only a couple mentions of them in newspaper articles, but all suggest that Thomas G. Moses was the “Moses” of Moses & McDonald.
Who was McDonald? I believe that he was another scenic artist that Moses was working with in Chicago during 1895?. This was a perfect combination as McDonald was not only a scenic artist, but also a talented stage carpenter. Where was McDonald painting during the spring of 1895? He was painting at McVicker’s Theatre with Homer Emons and Edward Peck. They were all working on the production of “Linsey Woolsey” (Chicago Tribune, 7 April 1895, page 35).
1896 advertisement for P. J. McDonald in Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide.
In 1896, P. J. McDonald was back to working as the stage carpenter for the Grand Opera House in New York. That would explain the end of Moses & McDonald. He would later partner with Claude L. Hagen, another stage carpenter, in 1899. McDonald & Hagen advertised as “contractors and builders of scenery,” providing scenery for “scenic productions, scenery for Theatres, Balls and Private Theatricals, Pageants and Celebrations, Tricks and Illusions, Masonic and Mystic Shrine Paraphernalia, Mechanical Effects, and Scrim Profile and all Supplies for the Trade” (Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide, 1899). The two separated by 1902 and McDonald again advertised independently as “P. J. McDonald, Scenery and Stage Construction, Mechanical Effects and Intricate Devices.” His shop was located at the stage of the Grand Opera House – 320 West 24th Street, New York.
1899 advertisement for McDonald & Hagen in Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide.
There is much that can be written on Hagen, and I cover him in a later post. For now, here is an announcement from “The Salt Lake Tribune” in 1910 (20 Feb, page 39). It gives a brief summary of Hagen’s importance.
1896 advertisement for Claude L. Hagen, featuring his Patent Shoe Toggle, in Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide.
“For eight years Mr. Hagen was associated with Klaw & Erlanger. Later he was superintendent of Luna park. He invented the racing scenes in “Ben-Hur,” “The Ninety and Nine,” “The Vanderbilt Cup,” and “Bedford’s Hope.” He designed and built many of the illusions used by Herrmann. He also invented the “Loop-the-Loop” and designed the first hippodrome building in this country in which the racecourse or stage revolved entirely around the audience. The latter device was first used at Luna park in the naval show “War is Hell.” In 1908, he was appointed the technical director of the New Theatre, submitting his resignation on May 1, 1910. At the New Theatre “he set up the most complete theatrical stage in existence, and all the machinery of it was invented by him. His revolving stage and system of counterweights for the raising and lowering of scenery are said to be the most effective devices of the kind known.”
