Thomas G. Moses encountered a series of misfortunes while working at the New Lyceum Theatre in Memphis, Tennessee. Moses wrote, “The job proved to be a ‘Jonah.’ This was a long-established expression among sailors, specifying a particular individual whose presence on board brought bad luck or endangered the ship. Later the meaning was extended to being someone or something that carried a jinx that brought bad luck to an enterprise. Possibly a common phrase in the Moses Household, since his father Lucius Moses, was once a sea captain.
The greatest loss at the New Lyceum Theatre, however, was the death of Moses’ stage carpenter, Joseph Wikoff. Moses wrote, “the bridge broke and poor Wikoff was so badly hurt that he died a few weeks after the accident. Some of the other boys were hurt, but all recovered.”
Newspapers reported that the paint bridge broke at the New Lyceum theatre on December 5, 1894, due to “defective timber in the frame work.” This was after the Dec. 3 dedication of the Theatre by Otis Skinner. The project wasn’t completed for the opening and Moses’ entire staff was still a work two days after the official opening. One article titled “Fell Forty Feet” described the “accident of four scenic artists and their assistants” (Times Herald, Port Huron, Michigan, 5 1894, page 3). The injured listed as scenic artists Al Morris, John Vorhees, Charles Wallace; assistants A. E. Well, John Wiley, Horace Posey; and stage carpenter Joseph Wikuft. Some of the articles further misspelled as Wikuft’s name as “Wipupt.” Whether Wikuft or Wipupt, the stage carpenter was who Moses referred to as “Wikoff” in his typed manuscript.
Wikoff was mentioned earlier by Moses in 1890. That year, Sosman & Landis sent Wikoff with Ed Loitz ahead of Moses to Ogden, Utah (see installement #232). Wikoff and Loitz would go ahead to prepare the theatre so that Moses’ could start painting immediately on his arrival. Moses enjoyed the elevated position of not having to do any of the ready work for any venue by that time. Sosman & Landis had the onsite work down to a science and I have to wonder of some installations were compleed on site because their studio was booked with work.
Beyond that singular reference to Wickoff little is known of this stage carpenter who so tragically died in Memphis I think that part of it is due to the various misspellings of his last name. I also doubt that Moses used the correct spelling, as he often spelled names, places and events phonetically. Like me, Moses had a great weakness when it came to spelling, and would often create his own version of a particular word. He could spell the same word three different ways over the course of a single year.
Then there are the standard typos in print as I think of Julius Cahn’s Theatrical Guide as Sosman & Landis was spelled various ways by the theatre managers submitting information for the publication. Sosman & Landis became Susman & Landes, Sussman & Landis, Sosman & Landus, and Sosman & Lambas, and. It makes research a tad complicated.
To be continued…
Here are a few images of paint frames at the end of the twentieth century to understand this substantial collapse.
Illustration of paint frame, ca. 1878.Illustration of paint frame ca. 1890.Illustration of paint frame ca. 1899.Photograph of Grace Wishaar on paint frame ca. 1902.
Thomas G. Moses travelled a bit more than usual after completing the panorama with David A. Strong. One of his “short trips” was to Toronto, Canada. There he had a scenery painting project where he had to really “hustle” in order to meet the impending deadline. Moses wrote, “I enjoyed my short stay there, as I liked the city very much, so much like the U.S.”
Interior of the Academy of Music in Milwaukee. Image from John Beutner and posted online at www.urbanmilwaukee.comExterior of the Academy of Music in Milwaukee. Image from John Beutner and posted online at www.urbanmilwaukee.com
Moses also went to Milwaukee to paint some scenery for the Academy of Music. For this project, he was working for Jacob Litt and recalled that one piece was a wire fireproof curtain that was “hard to paint.” Moses never liked painting woven wire asbestos and would complain about them in later years too. Yet they were a permanent fixture in many collections. Occasionally they would be poorly shipped or hung, adding to his exasperation. He would reiterate that the curtains should never be folded, but always rolled, to prevent the huge dents that would ruin the painted compositions.
The scenery that Moses painted for the Academy of Music in Milwaukee was in the second-generation space. Milwaukee’s first Academy of Music performance venuewas an exact model of the Philadelphia Academy of Music. The auditorium was 100’-0” deep by 64’-0” wide, and was divided into a parquetted, dress circle and upper tier. It was furnished with patented seats arranged with “a view to comfort” (“The Chronicles of Milwaukee: Being a Narrative of the Town From Its Earliest Period to the Present, 1861” page 285). The newspaper article noted “it is impossible for the spectator to so locate himself that a full and comprehensive view of the stage cannot be obtained.” The stage was thirty-six feet and flaked by two private boxes. There were dressing rooms and an orchestra box in front. William P. Young was the builder and it was inaugurated on March 16, 1860. In 1876 a second Academy of Music was built in Milwaukee between Wisconsin and Michigan. The design was a commission of Edward Townsend Mix and had a 1,600 seat capacity. This was the stage that Moses provided scenery for in 1886.
Letterhead from the Theodore L. Hays Papers collection at the Minnesota Historical Society. Image used in Twin City Scenic Company catalogue.
My interest traveled briefly to Litt as I recalled an image of a letterhead with his name on it (Twin Cities Scenic Co. collection catalogue, Brockman, 1987). I started to scan newspaper archives for Litt in both Milwaukee and Minnesota. There is mention of Litt in 1886 when he ventured to Minnesota with his sister. On July 31 the St. Paul Daily Globe published, “Jacob Litt, the dime museum proprietor and manager of the academy of music, Milwaukee accompanied by his sister, is in the city, expecting to spend a week at Minnetonka” (page 3). It is possible that his trip was as much for business purposes as pleasure.
Jacob Litt is recorded as being “the first theatrical manager to amass a great fortune and reach the millionaire class solely as a result of his own labors” (“The Stage in the Twentieth Century” by Robert Grau, 1912, page 135). He began his theatre career in the box office of Milwaukee’s Grand Opera House. He soon became the first manager to arrange a circuit of theatres for theatrical combinations in the Northwest and became wildly successful. He leased theatres in Milwaukee, St. Paul, Minneapolis, and Chicago, every endeavor becoming a lucrative success.
By 1889, Jacob Litt had taken over the People’s Theatre of Minneapolis that had opened on October 31, 1887 (20 Washington Avenue North). The venue was first owned by Lambert Hayes W. E. Sterling of Buffalo, New York as the theater’s first manager. By March of 1889,
Kohl and Middleton leased the theater. In July Jacob Litt took over, renaming it the ” Bijou
Opera House.” Unfortunately, a gas jet behind the scenes started a fire and burned the building to the ground on December 28, 1890. A second “Bijou Opera House” was built on that same site in 1891. Twin City Scenic Company began in the Bijou Opera House in Minneapolis. There were three principle employees who opened the scenic studio. Theodore Hays, manager of the Bijou, became the first president of Twin City Scenic Co. William P. Davis and William Knox Brown supervised the scenic art and stage mechanics departments. The company would later expand into St. Paul’s Grand Opera House for additional studio space.E. Sterling (the first manager of the People’s Theatre) returned to Minneapolis to open the New People’s Theater at 322 Marquette Avenue on March 24, 1894. By December 16 of that same year the theater was acquired by Jacob Litt, who renamed it the ” Metropolitan Opera House.” As a director and producer, Litt’s Broadway credits include “The Diplomat” )1902), “The Proce of Peace” (1901), “Caleb West” (1900), “The Ghetto” (1899), “Shall We Forgive Her” (1897), “The Last Stroke” (1896) and “Yon Yonson” (1894.)
It is important to recall what was also happening in the Twin Cities prior to the establishment of Twin City Scenic Company. In 1881, Charles S. King was brought in to install the stage machinery for the Grand Opera House in Minneapolis, Minnesota. At the time, he was thirty years old with seven years of practical experience in the industry. Keep in in mind that Moses had been working for Sosman & Landis since 1880. There is mention in the Minneapolis Tribune that “Mr. C. S. King, the stage carpenter at the Grand Opera House, was initiated into some of the mysteries of stage mechanism as exemplified in our new temple of amusement. Mr. King who was summoned here from Chicago, is regarded as one of the best stage-carpenters in the country, having had wide experience and possessing perfect knowledge of his progression. He says that our opera house will have the finest stage, the easiest worked, and will be the best appointed theatre west of Chicago, or of many large eastern cities” (page 5). When King was working on the stage at the Grand Opera in Minneapolis, the local stage carpenter for the venue was William Knox Brown, one of the three founders of Twin City Scenic Company.
Scenic artist John H. Young recalled in 1912, stating, “Jacob Litt always gave carte blache order for scenes, asking for the very best that could be painted, but if any breakaways were to take place in the scene such as a falling bridge carrying a man or woman with it, he always demanded that I be the first one to try it. This naturally had the tendency to make me arrange a safe fall. This method was adopted by the great Salvini at Wallack’s old theatre when he produced ‘Samson’ and the breaking away of the temple as he pushed aside the great stone columns, causing the entire building to collapse, was rather a trying test of my nerves” (Grau, page 230-231).
From Frank Leslie’s Popular Magazine, 1893, Vol. 36.
The Chicago Sunday Tribune had a Sunday Supplement titled “Worker’s Magazine: For the Man who Works with Hand or Brain.” On April 9, 1905, L. G. Pick wrote the article, “Stage Carpenter is a Star, Jack of All Trades.” Here is the second, and final, installment for what I posted yesterday:
“The stage carpenter’s work on a production begins a week or two weeks before a play is to be produced. Then he receives what is termed a “property plot” of the coming play. A property plot for certain shows reads more like a catalogue of a house furnishing goods firm than anything connected with the theatrical business. Everything which is needed for a play except the scenery, which is generally carried by the company listed on the “plot.” Each act generally requires altogether different “props.”
From Frank Leslie’s Popular Magazine, 1893, Vol. 36, page 618.
Here are a few things that were on the “property plot” of a recent play. Four carpet rugs, dark red; one card table, round top, thirty inches, dark oak; two bronze statues; one glass for whiskey sour; fifteen packages, assorted sizes to represent packages of groceries; one late; one tin water pail; four bound books; four clubs for crowd, one “wood crash.” This is about one-tenth of the items required on this plot and this was a small play.
When the stage carpenter gets this plot it is “up to him.” He has to get the things called for and he had to get them without paying anything for them. This is the only one of the puzzles to be solved in connections with staging a play. He must use his judgment and decide what size many of the various articles are to be and other things that go to make them applicable to a particular scene. Having decided this, he must go out and get them – without paying for them. This he does by borrowing from large downtown stores, paying them with passes to the show or occasionally with an advertisement on the program.
Often “props” has troubles that turn his hair gray before his “plot” is filled. For instance, in a play now playing in the city there was called for one étagère, filled with ornamental pieces.”
The stage carpenter who got this plot looked at this line, scratched his head, and took it to the head of the house. “See a furniture man,” said he. A furniture man was sought out and shook his head. “Not hear; never heard of it,” was his reply. Then the advance agent of the show came to town. “What’s an étagère?” was the first question fired at him by the carpenter. “Search me,” he smiled. Then the stage carpenter went to a friend of his who conducts a small antique furniture store and there, he found than an étagère was an old-fashioned “what-not,” and he breathed easier.
Some of the jobs that the stage carpenter is in charge of from Frank Leslie’s Popular Magazine, 1893, Vol. 36, page 621.
Something much akin to this comes up with each production that is made. Still the stage carpenter manages to smile through it all. When the “props” are all assembled and the old play leaves town and a new one comes to the theater is when the stage carpenter really begins work. The old scenery must be torn down and made ready for shipment, the old props taken off, and the new scenery and props put on.
The work of tearing out an old play and putting on a new one begins generally directly after the Saturday night performance and continues until the new play is put on and ready for the first performance. If one or both of the plays are being produced on a large scale, the time required to make the change is from thirty to thirty-six hours. During this time the stage carpenter must always be on duty, overseeing everything that is under his charge, and under these conditions nearly everything on the stage is under him.
On ordinary days the carpenter generally comes to work at 10 in the morning and works until the evening performance is over. His pay runs from $25 a week for the ordinary carpenter to $35 for the “star.” Thirty dollars is a high average. His work is hard, besides the length of the hours and there is little chance for promotion. A few stage carpenters have risen to positions as stage managers, but they are merely the exception to the rule. There is a season in the summer time when most of the men who fix stage settings for plays are thrown out of work through the closing of their theaters. Then some of them go into other branches of carpenter work and others, having saved some money, live on what they earn during the winter. But when the season opens again they are sure to be found back where the scenes are made unless some uncontrollable circumstance prevents.”
The 1903 pay range of $25 to $35 a week is the current equivalent of $660 to $924.62.
To be continued…
From Pittsburgh Daily Post, April 23, 1911, page 12
The Chicago Sunday Tribune had a Sunday Supplement titled “Worker’s Magazine: For the Man who Works with Hand or Brain.” On April 9, 1905, L. G. Pick wrote the article “Stage Carpenter is a Star, Jack of All Trades.” Here is the first installment as it should be read in its entirety:
“It’s fun to be in it after you once get into it, but I wouldn’t advise any young fellow to start into it with a hope of making a career through the work.” This is what a stage carpenter employed at one of the large theatres, a man of twenty years experience in his line, says when questioned in regard to the stage carpenter’s work.
“There are plenty of interesting things to see in and around the back of a stage, plenty of amusing things are always happening, which to a man with a sense of humor are a big manner of compensation, but that just about lets the job out. After a man gets to be a stage carpenter, he seldom goes any further. And no young man should thus limit his ambition.”
Despite the man’s advice, and surely he knows where he talks, it is not probable that there will be any serious diminution in the number of young men who will try to tread the way that leads to the glare of the footlights via a stage carpenter’s position. The glamour of the stage is over even this laborful position, and the “backs” of all the big theaters are full of young men who someday hope they will have the head carpenter’s job. Other’s who have not managed to get work anywhere on the stage are casting longing eyes toward the work. These and the public in general, including particularly the public that sits out in front, have the vaguest sort of notion of what a stage carpenter’s work consists of. None of them appreciate fully what the stage carpenter must know and be.
Stage carpenters work seven days out of the week. In this they are unique. Six days is generally reckoned a full week’s work, but Sunday and Saturday is just the same to men who see that the play is properly staged. They also work on an average thirteen hours a day, and when there is a change of play at the house where they are employed they sometimes have the privilege of being on duty thirty-six hours at a stretch. In this they also differ from most workmen, especially from other tradesmen.
But while the stage carpenter is, strictly speaking, a union tradesman, for the craft is well organized in all the larger cities, he is not to be classed in anyway with the man who builds your house or repairs your sidewalk, or does any of your work of the general house carpenter.
The carpenter is in most cases stage carpenter and property man in one. Occasionally the work is divided between two men, but usually the same man looks after the procuring of the “props” for a production as cares for the arrangement of the scenes of the play. In this double capacity the carpenter is much more than an ordinary workman. He is an artist, essentially an artist, if he is a success in his line. He, best of all men, knows how a scene is going to look after he and his men get through “putting it on,” and he knows best just what to do to make the people out in front believe that they are looking at the briny deep lashing itself to pieces on a rock bound coast, when as a matter of fact they are only seeing some loose canvas heaving under the efforts of three or four supers, and some brown canvas tacked to a frame. He knows how to place the “mountain pass” at the back of the stage so that the escaping hero may safely flee from the pursuing villains to his mountain fastness. No man, possibly with the exception of the star and the stage manager, has so much to do with the failure or success of a play. But the audience, which sits out in front and sees the finished productions, has no inkling of the truth. The carpenter doesn’t get his name on the bills.
But the knowledge of how to stage a play; how to fill a property plot, and actually make, if necessary, the scenes that are to appear on the stage, is not at all the knowledge that the stage carpenter must posses. He must be an all around “peach,” taking the word of a world renowned play producer for it.”
“He must know how to handle men. He always has ten or fifteen men under him. If he is at a big theater, and when the production calls for a large number of “supes” the carpenter – property man – is the man who must handle the “mob,” the “race track crowd,” or the “army.”
Sometimes this makes a hundred men that he had directly under him, and when one considers that “supes” and other stage characters are not of the meekest natures to be found, it will be seen that most men would have their hands full keeping this mob in order and seeing that it gets on the stage in the proper way.
Besides keeping this number of people in hand the stage carpenter must at the same time have his eye on the prop men and their work, see that the setting for each scene are done in proper time and proper manner, and give his attention to a hundred and one details at the same time.
William P. Davis, another Twin City Scenic Company founder, worked as the primary artist for the Chicago Civic Auditorium before moving to Minneapolis. John Barstow, and later his son William H. Barstow, were two of the Auditorium’s stage carpenters. Bartstow’s last name was occasionally spelled as “Bairstow” in various publications. While researching stage carpenters, I discovered a wonderful article about their work and the contribution of John Barstow when he designed the Auditorium stage.
Image of shifting stagehands scenery on and propping up flats with stage jacks. Illustration from Frank Leslie’s Popular Magazine 1893, Vol. 36, No. 5.
On September 28, 1907, the Oregon Daily Journal (Portland, Oregon) published an article in their Sunday Supplement “Among Men who Work with Hand or Brain.” Jonas Howard wrote an article titled, “Boss Jack of All Trades. Glamour of Stage Due to the Carpenter” (page 49):
“The only jack of all trades who has mastered them all is the stage carpenter. What the stage carpenter doesn’t know or can’t find out could be written in a small book. He must be not only a carpenter of the first rank, but a plumber, machinist, painter, blacksmith, sailor, tailor, artist and common laborer as well. In fact, the stage carpenter must be an all around genius or he wouldn’t hold his job five minutes.
Shifting scenery. Illustration from Frank Leslie’s Popular Magazine 1893, Vol. 36, No. 5.
Stage carpenters begin their careers as assistants to the property men or scene painters.
The scenic artist at work painting a backdrop. Illustration from Frank Leslie’s Popular Magazine 1893, Vol. 36, No. 5.
During the first year of their apprenticeship they do nothing but the rougher jobs around the stage, such as moving scenery, repairing frames and helping the electrician. Later they are allowed to work some of the ropes that are used to manipulate the scenery and gradually work into the positions as fly men. It is not until a stage carpenter can make and repair “trick” stuff that he is called proficient in his business, and as “trick” stuff is as intricate and varied as the tricks themselves it is only the keen witted carpenters that reach the front of their profession.
“Trick” stuff is that part of the stage machinery that is used to bring about various spectacular scenic effects that are so common on the present day stage. Sometimes there is an automobile race to be brought off, and it is up to the stage carpenter to devise a scheme that will make an automobile run a mile or more at top speed in the space of 20 or 30 feet. To do this there must be a set of rollers under the floor to turn the automobile’s wheels. The country through which the race is run must be painted on canvas and wound up on upright rollers so it can whizz by at the rate of 90 miles an hour or so. All of this arrangement must be put together with skill or it would not endure through the performance.
Stage tricks are so numerous that there could be no accounting of them. Nearly every show has some mechanical device to produce its stage effects and the stage carpenter must be enough of a mechanic to be familiar with all of them.
In the Auditorium theatre in Chicago which has one of the largest stages in the world, there is 2,000,000 feet of rope and cables. To handle these and keep them in repair requires the services of a man who knows as much about ropes as a sailor.
In the producing houses more stage carpenters are employed that are used in the theatres where the stage productions are shown after they are once set up. When a play is produced all of its scenery must be made and painted and the work is under the supervision of the stage carpenter. Each piece of scenery must be made so that it can be used in the average theatre throughout the country, for it would not do to make the scenery to fit any one house.
John Barstow, former stage carpenter at the Auditorium, the stage of which he built, has been in the business nearly fifty years. He began his career in Europe, coming to this side shortly after the civil war. Before the Auditorium was built Mr. Barstow was sent to Europe to learn all he could about the stage arrangements of the best theaters and on his return he incorporated all of the best features of these houses in the Auditorium stage. His son, William H. Barstow, is the present stage carpenter at the Auditorium.
Most of downtown theatres in Chicago employ a staff of 10 or 15 stage carpenters, while the Auditorium requires the services of 30 men. Altogether there are 450 stage carpenters in Chicago and most of them belong to the union.
The average pay for the work is $5 for each eight hours [equivalent to $125 in 2017] and in the larger houses the work is done at 9 o’clock in the morning and works until 6 at night, then there is another shift to work in the evening, during the performance. When the play that is showing carries an extra lot of scenery or has a good many “tricks” some of the day men are required to be present during the evening performance. During the grand opera season the stage carpenters at the Auditorium report at 8 o’clock in the morning and do not get away until midnight.
Some of the best stage carpenters work in the cheap theatre. It is in these places that the thrilling melodramas are given and it is plays of this class that tax the ingenuity of the stage carpenter. It is only by a skillful handling of ropes and scenery that an automobile can be made to jump safely across the opening gulf between two blades of a jackknife bridge. A single slip might result in the death or injury of an actor.”
The stage effects that were discovered in Fort Scott, Kansas, at the Scottish Rite theatre were just a few common examples in a long history of designing spectacle for the stage. The 1924 version of Pepper’s Ghost for the 30th degree and the volcanic eruption for the 17th degree were relatively tame when compared with the commercial touring shows from the early twentieth century.
Fort Scott Scottish Rite setting for Pepper’s Ghost illusion in the 30th degree. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, 2015.Fort Scott Scottish Rite setting for Pepper’s Ghost illusion in the 30th degree. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, 2015.The man changing into the skeleton. Pepper’s Ghost illusion for the 30th degree in Fort Scott, Kansas, at the Scottish Rite. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, 2015.
Stage carpenters and scenic artists, such as David A. Strong, initially designed scenic spectacles for Masonic degree productions. C. S. King of Sosman & Landis and W. K. Brown of Twin City Scenic repeatedly constructed certain stage effects for Scottish Rite theaters when degree productions initially appeared in the Southern Jurisdiction. They were just two individuals of the hundreds employed by scenic studios throughout the country. Today I look at Brown who was responsible for designing the stage machinery for many Scottish Rite Valleys, including the Minneapolis Scottish Rite where he was a member.
Twenty years after Charles S. King installed the stage machinery at the Grand Opera House in Minneapolis, a newspaper article discussed the venue’s first stage carpenter, William Knox Brown.
William Knox Brown, stage carpenter and Scottish Rite Mason in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
Published on January 13, 1901, the article was titled, “Experts Behind the Scenes.” It included a brief synopsis of Brown’s career as a stage carpenter. The main title line was followed by a subheading that stated, “Ability of Men Who Are Not Visible to the Audience is Tested by Such a Production as Hanlon Bros. Le Voyage En Suisse.” A series of illustrations followed, exploring the duties of stagehands, examining “Who They Are and What They Do – Some of Their Peculiar Experiments.” It was the image of stagehands working the lines that initially caught my eye.
Stage hands moving the lines in the 1901 article that described “Le Voyage en Suisse.”1901 article, “Experts Behind the Scenes” with summary of W. K. Brown’s experience as a stage carpenter.
Brown, Theodore Hays and William P. Davis started the Twin City Scenic Company, initially working out of the Bijou Opera House in Minneapolis. A wonderful history has already been written about the company and was published in the 1987 exhibition catalogue, “The Twin City Scenic Collection: Popular Entertainment 1895-1929.” It was Brown’s connection to touring spectacles and Davis’ history at the Chicago Civic Auditorium that I would like to highlight today as I continue to examine those who engineered stage effects. Theodore Hays was the business manager, Brown was in charge of the stage mechanics, and Davis led the painting at Twin City Scenic. All three had the necessary connections to make their endeavor a success. Brown had worked extensively for the Hanlon Bros. while Davis had functioned as the primary scenic artist at the Chicago Civic Auditorium.
The Star Tribune article noted that the “ruler of this realm behind the footlights” was titled “stage carpenter,” then proceeded to explain all of the different jobs associated with the technical elements of many productions. What really caught me eye was the description of the Bijou stage space in 1901.
Illustration in 1901 article depicting scene change for “Le Voyage en Suisse.”
Here is an excerpt that I found fascinating:
“The stage proper was divided by the old system of grooves, which were used to hold up the scenery into divisions, one, two, three and four, where the stage was extra deep, sometimes five and six. Grooves are a mechanical contrivance in which the scenes slide back and forth. This methods of stage setting is very seldom employed at the present time, the more modern arrangements of setting scenes in a box shape, supporting them with braces and connecting them by lash lines, being more common use. One as styled above is the first space back of the curtain line, and is five or more feet in depth, according to the size of the stage. Spaces two, three and four are equal to the distances from one, towards the rear. There are few theatrical productions that require more extensive stage room than the Hanlon Brother’s greatest spectacle, ‘A Trip to Switzerland.’”
The article noted that Brown was a “mechanic of experience” and “one of the best stage carpenters in the country” with a “thorough and comprehensive knowledge of the art of stage mechanism.” It then went on to describe his experience since first arriving in Minneapolis as a stage carpenter in 1882.
He was in his second year of presiding over the Bijou and credited with “that rare quality of being able to control men without trouble.” Brown started his career in Minneapolis as stage carpenter at the Grand Opera House in 1882. He also worked at the Grand Opera House in St. Paul before eventually transferring to the Bijou and the People’s Theatre. Brown left the area for work at a variety of opera houses by 1887, including Burd’s Opera House in Davenport, Iowa, Harris Theater in Louisville, Kentucky, and the Henrietta Theatre in Columbus, Ohio. He was later hired by the Hanlon Bros. as their master machinist for the production of “Superba.” Brown not only directed the staging of “Superba,” but also was engaged at the Hanlon Bros. for their private stage and workshop in Cohaset, Massachusetts. At this facility, Brown repaired and tested new stage effects and machinery.
The production of “Superba” by the Hanlon Brothers. This is the show where W. K. Brown was the stage carpenter.
I immediately thought of the “Albert, Grover and Burridge Studio” in Chicago where they had a space to light and display the completed scenes. Were the studios in Chicago and Cohaset part of a movement to construct spaces with theatrical stages to design, test and market new products for their clientele.
Chicago studio of “Albert, Grover & Burridge.” The space had a place to stage competed scenes for clients after they were removed from the paint frames.
The Sosman & Landis Studio in Chicago employed many notable individuals over the years besides Thomas G. Moses. Two nationally renowned stage machinists, David A. Strong, and Charles S. King, were also employed at the studio during the late nineteenth century. We know very little of King beyond information published in a few newspaper articles. Unfortunately, many newspaper articles can get it wrong, as the authors don’t always understand what they are writing about. Imagine the difficulty in describing the complexities of stage machinery and histories of the stage carpenters.
An article titled “An Old Stager,” provides the most information about King’s past. On October 30, 1889, “The Republican” mentioned that C. S. King “began his career as a stage carpenter and stage machinist in 1859, which he has followed ever since except an interval of three years, which he served in the Union Army during the late war, and another brief period that he was manager of a large company on the road” (page 4).
The article went on to explain that for the last fifteen years, King had been in the employ of Sosman & Landis of Chicago “which of itself is sufficient recommendation of his abilities, and has fitted up some of the finest opera houses in the country as well as in Canada and Mexico.” Well, this contradicts many other newspaper articles and company advertisements that site the opening of Sosman & Landis Studio as 1877, not 1874. However, it is possible that King had been working with Sosman on stage installations since 1874. Sosman’s scenic artist career began in 1872 when he started assisting the Chicago-based artist, T. B. Harris. King and Sosman could have worked on the same projects since that time. This would actually make sense as an ideal group of individuals would be gathered to form a company when Sosman met Landis in 1876. Remember that Landis was primarily a salesman and never really worked as a technician or painter for the studio.
Finally, the author of the “Republican” article wrote, “Mr. King came to Columbus Sept. 11, and commenced on the bare floor of the new theatre to construct the various stage machinery, mount scenery, and everything connected with stage settings, all without drawings or specifications, except those stored in his head from long experience.” I became fascinated with this statement and started to think back to the need for trade secrets. Like those operative masons who formed lodges during the building of the great cathedrals; trade secrets were essential to market your skill and win work over your competitors.
1889 Crump Theatre in Columbus, Ohio. Stage machinery by C. S. King and scenery by Thomas Moses of Sosman & Landis. Walter Doup was the first stage carpenter for the venue.
Crump Theatre drop curtain painted by Thomas G. Moses in 1889.An early stage setting at the Crump Theatre in Columbus, Ohio. Exact date unknown.
Six years earlier in 1881, King was brought in to install the stage machinery for the Grand Opera House in Minneapolis, Minnesota. At the time, he was thirty years old with seven years of practical experience in the industry. On January 27 of that year, the Minneapolis Tribune published, “Mr. C. S. King, the stage carpenter at the Grand Opera House, was initiated into some of the mysteries of stage mechanism as exemplified in our new temple of amusement. Mr. King who was summoned here from Chicago, is regarded as one of the best stage-carpenters in the country, having had wide experience and possessing perfect knowledge of his progression. He says that our opera house will have the finest stage, the easiest worked, and will be the best appointed theatre west of Chicago, or of many large eastern cities” (page 5).
The Grand Opera in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Stage machinery by C. S. King in 1881. W. K. Brown was the first stage carpenter for the venue.
I thought back to the creation of the Theatrical Mechanics Association in 1866 and their Masonic-like structure, complete with a Grand Master and local lodges. The statement “initiated into some of the mysteries of stage mechanism” would certainly be an initiation ritual for entry into the Theatrical Mechanics Association in 1881. Elaborate initiations were simply a popular practice of the time with most fraternal societies. I bet the stage mechanics ritual was a hoot!
When King worked on the Crump Theatre, he was working with a local individual who would function as the permanent stage carpenter for the venue – Walter Doup. Similarly, when King was working on the stage at the Grand Opera in Minneapolis, the local stage carpenter for the venue would be William Knox Brown, one of the three founders of Twin City Scenic Company. Brown began his stage work in Minneapolis at the Grand Opera House in 1882.
You can only imagine my surprise when I stumbled across an article describing the training and responsibilities of stage carpenters in a 1901 Minneapolis newspaper article entitled “Experts Behind the Scenes.”
To be continued…
Here is a link to the history of the Crump Theatre for more information: www.historiccolumbusindiana.org/jscrump.htm
While supervising the removal of the 1924 Fort Scott Scottish Rite scenery collection, I stumbled across a variety of notes written on the inside the wooden sandwich battens. These battens were attached to both the tops and bottoms of each drop. Mathematical calculations, random notes, and small cartoons were jotted down in pencil during 1924. One batten even listed the organization of drops on line sets for the Fort Scott counterweight system. It was remarkable! My favorite discovery, however, was the pencil illustration of a counterweight rigging system that I immediately photographed and sent to Rick Boychuk. I recognized the familiar penmanship of Thomas G. Moses with its scrawling slant. His writing had been beautifully preserved for over ninety years, hidden in the center of the sandwich battens.
Fort Scott Scottish Rite batten with drops for degree productions listed. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett in 2015.Fort Scott Scottish Rite batten with drawing of counterweight rigging system. Location of artifact currently unknown as the battens were not reattached to the scenery once hung in the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center. This onsite photograph was taken by Wendy Waszut-Barrett in 2015 during the scenery removal and transportation from Kansas to Minnesota.
I am intrigued with the men who not only painted scenery for the stage, but also designed the stage machinery. The saying “necessity is the mother of invention” always comes to mind when I think of those who were able to engineer and paint transformation scenes. For me, the combined position of artist-engineer makes complete sense and provided much less of an opportunity for possible miscommunication! In any case, the stage mechanic must have understood how the painted product will appear. Similarly, the scenic artist must also have understood how the stage machinery would work. David A. Strong was one example of a theatrical artist and theatrical mechanic. He was not only recognized as a superb scenic artist, but also member of the Theatrical Mechanics Association.
Yesterday, I mentioned the value of hands-on experience for both theatre practitioners and scholars. The University of Minnesota Centennial Showboat provided training for not only design and scenic art techniques, but also stage machinery and construction skills. Today I start looking at those who simultaneously functioned as scenic artists and stage carpenters. I think back to the nineteenth-century production that used multiple scenery designers for a single show. This has always intrigued me when I read the lists of those credited with the production of individual acts and am curious about the visual unity of the entire show. In some cases, when an individual and wasn’t identified as producing the stage machinery, I can only believe that those credited with “scenery” were also engineering and constructing their own stage effects.
Roles noted in theatre programs became more delineated by the end of the nineteenth century. Technical theatre positions appear to be introduced and defined with job specific titles and duties occur. It is possible that the appearance of scenic studios contributed to the further division of roles in the theatrical labor pool.
Enter Rick Boychuk and his continued research concerning Charles S. King and the appearance of the counterweight system in North American theaters. For the past year, I have occasionally searched for information concerning King, a stage mechanic who worked at Sosman and Landis during the late nineteenth century. Usually I come up empty handed. Boychuk first introduced to me to King and his role as stage carpenter for the Crump Theatre in Columbus, Ohio. As a side note, Thomas G. Moses was credited with painting the drop curtain for the Crump, so they worked together. Both Moses and King were employees of Sosman & Landis at the same time.
Last month, I stumbled across mention of King as a scenic artist and immediately thought of David A. Strong, also an employee of Sosman & Landis Studio! In 1887, C. S. King was noted as the professional stage machinist who came from Chicago “to build and paint the scenery, rigging and traps for the stage” at the Opera House in El Paso, Texas.
When I look at the key figures, such as David Austin Strong, in the development of Masonic theaters, I always return to the same thought: the system worked extremely well for the unskilled – the Masons. Did the development of the design also take this factor into consideration, or was it all a happy coincidence? Handling scenery in commercial houses was complicated and needed a specific skill set. Installing rigging systems for fraternal theaters required extensive knowledge in the stage machinery, painted illusion, and stage work. Once properly installed, the raising and lowering of dedicated lines, did not.
Being able to sell and install more scenery due to closely spaced lines also contributed to the evolution of Masonic stages as lines were often spaced 2” to 4” apart. However, the lines would still be handled by unskilled labor. The Masonic stagehands would be businessmen, farmers, ranchers, and others who had never stepped foot on the stage, let alone examined the rigging that raised and lowered painted scenery.
Scottish Rite counterweight system in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, 2016.Santa Fe, New Mexico, Scottish Rite. Photograph by Wendt Waszut-Barrett, 2016.Looking up into the flies and seeing the bottom battens of drops and the counterweight system. Scottish Rite in Pasadena, California.
Suddenly, there was a group of unskilled stagehands handling the scenes for Masonic degree productions. This was a secret society and a unique situation where trained individuals could not simply be hired to run the show. Therefore, the system of scenic mechanics for degree production needed to accommodate the unskilled. Again, the installation of a counterweight system is complicated, but the running of dedicated line sets is easy. Some lines that I have handled were weighted so well that I could lift a line no effort whatsoever.
Arbor cage with counterweights at the Scottish Rite in Austin, Texas.Arbor cage at the Scottish Rite in Grand Forks, North Dakota.
Thomas Moses credits David A. Strong as being the “Daddy” of Masonic design. Up until recently, I had believed that his comment primarily indicated the design and painting of compositions for the earliest fraternal stages. I now wonder if he wasn’t referring to the new scenic mechanics for the stage that Rick Boychuk covers in his book “Nobody Looks Up.” Strong was intimately familiar with the transition scenes used in east coast theatre, especially New York City. He brought this knowledge to the theatre and scenic studio in Chicago. He was in New York when the Theatrical Mechanics Association was formed and there when it arrived in Chicago. He was at Sosman & Landis, one of the earliest studios to create Scottish Rite scenery.
Instead of Strong being solely a scenic artist, what if he was really a stage machinist who could paint extremely well? Is it possible that he developed the Scottish Rite installations with the stage machinist Charles S. King, another Sosman & Landis employee? Think of those unique individuals who can create new technology and skillfully communicate their ideas to others, and then create art? Maybe Strong was equally equipped to design both the stage mechanics for Scottish Rite theatres as well as the painted compositions, but was best used in the studio as a scenic artist.
Then there is another factor to consider: Strong’s familiarity with the Fraternity. He had been a Mason since 1852, living in both the fraternal and theatrical worlds.
While researching the scenic artist David A. Strong (1830-1911), I stumbled across his membership in the Theatrical Mechanics Association (TMA) during 1891. Strong was an employee of Sosman & Landis and Haverly’s Theatre and credited by Thomas G. Moses as the “Daddy”of Masonic design. He became a Mason in New Haven Connecticut during 1852 and joined the Chicago Scottish Rite in 1876. I recently read an article noting Strong’s attendance at a TMA meeting in 1891. If you recall, Strong was one of the original artists for the 1866 production of “the Black Crook.”
Illustration from an article depicting “Up Above the Flies” at the 1866 performance of “The Black Crook.”The original 1866 program of “The Black Crook” with David A. Strong as one of the scenic artists.
Intrigued with his involvement in a theatrical mechanics group, I carefully examined the article and was surprised to discover a recount of the association’s New York origins in 1866. I thought of those working on the various “Black Crook” transformation scenes that same year.
The July 27, 1891 issue of Chicago’s “The Daily Inter Ocean” newspaper (page 2) noted that Chicago Lodge No. 4 (of the TMA) had a recent meeting where they appointed a reception committee for the TMA, including Strong. Chicago Lodge No. 4 was organized on April 16, 1884 and its first President was John Barstow (stage carpenter at McVicker’s Theatre). The first meeting was at the Grand Opera House and some seventy-five names were enrolled as charter members. Certificates of organization were filed with Barstow, John E. Williams, and Frank F. Goss as organizers and first directors.
1891 “Inter Ocean” article about the Theatrical Mechanics Association.
Now the Theatrical Mechanics Association was new to me. I had only researched the Protective Alliance of Scene Painters of America (est. 1895). For the TMA in 1891, it listed that there were 78 members and 28 lodges in attendance at the Chicago convention, including Chicago Lodge No. 4 members James Quigly, John Bairstow (Bartstow) William Faber, Thomas McGann, John Foust, Frank Faber, L. B. Savage, F. V. Sauter (became a Scottish Rite Mason in 1892), David A. Strong (became a Scottish Rite Mason in 1876), Frank A Lathrop, and Wallace Blanchard (became a Scottish Rite Mason in 1899). After the morning session at the convention, the committee “took forcible possession of the conference.” The main topic of their discussion was the World’s Fair plans.
Later, the Grand Master James McCurdy spoke at the convention and recalled the New York origin in 1866. McCurdy was recognized in the article as being connected “with nearly every theatre of prominence in the East” and also one of the charter members. The organization first met with not only managers from the houses but also men working as mechanics. The initial membership in sixteen rapidly increased to thirty in their first year. The TMA motto was “Charity, Benevolence, and Fidelity.” By 1891, the membership in New York membership was 250 with a nationwide membership of 2,300. Wow!
A second lodge was organized in Boston and then Philadelphia “fell into line.” By 1891 they had already paid out $6,000 in benevolent purposes. The 1891 article continued to note, “Perhaps the public does not know it, but it is a fact that the theatrical mechanics deserve as much credit for a successful performance as the actors themselves. If one will only stop to think of the improvements that have been made in the last few years, the worth of the mechanic must be recognized. The ugly, heavy, and unweilding scenery which twenty years ago littered up the stage has given place to scenery that is the work of artists and that is handled by skilled mechanics. No longer are there dreary waits between acts. All this was accomplished, and much of it due to the association, by means of which have been given and taken.”
