Thomas G. Moses – Page 59

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 163 – Thomas G. Moses and the Art Bug

Thomas G. Moses wrote, “The “Art Bug” began to develop in me quite early. It was at this time that I should have had an opportunity to see if I was qualified to become a real artist, or a good cobbler.” By the age of twelve he was awarded a prize at he county fair for his pencil drawing of the 2^nd Ward school house. Of this time Moses commented, “I was then considered Sterling’s Artist, and a brilliant future was seen for me in the Art World by many.”

That year he had the opportunity to take a few art lessons. Mrs. Worthington, an elderly lady in Sterling, instructed Moses in landscape painting. This gave him a slight foundation that pointed him in the right direction. Moses recalled, “Being twelve years of age and quite young to determine what I wanted to do in life, my County Fair prize picture had brought to me the serious question, which was easily answered – Painting.” He remained something of a “dreamer” as he examined small circulars advertising touring productions such as “The Black Crook.” Moses wrote, “The gaudy illustrations of the different scenes were the most artistic things I had ever seen. How I longed to see wonderful painting. Would I ever be able to paint pictures framed in heavy gold frames, my name on the corner, and hanging in an Art gallery? If I couldn’t do that, could I paint ornamental signs on glass? Or fancy scroll work and landscapes on the side of an omnibus? Or flowers on rocking chairs? It was paint, paint and nothing else.” He wasn’t discerning at all about the type of genre, completing a number of small pictures and dreaming of a life as an artist. Moses remembered that all he hungered for was paint.

As in many cases, the dreams of a young child did not mesh with the expectations of his parents. Lucius Moses saw a great future for his son in the tannery. He used the example of the great General U.S. Grant who had started life as a tanner and ended up as President of the United States. Regardless, no argument could have compelled Moses to change his mind after he became determined to paint. For Moses, his work at the tannery was simply “irksome.” As he only owned one suit of clothes, the smell of the tannery lingered wherever he went, especially at school. It must have been difficult to impress his school mates when “that awful odor from the tannery” would saturate his clothes.

A view of employees at a Tannery in 1870. This was from the same time when Thomas G. Moses was working in his father’s tannery at Sterling, Illinois.

It was at the age of thirteen that Moses first ran away from home, escaping to a nearby town. Traveling by rail with very little money in his pocket, he sought employment outside of the tannery. In Ambrose he visited a car shop for a job in their paint shop. There he was told to return and ask again the following day. After sleeping on a park bench that night and waking to heavy frost, he returned to the paint shop without breakfast. A constable met him at the door and dutifully escorted the young man home as his father had sent a telegram while he slept. Moses remembered his return writing, “There was no fatted calf cooked for this prodigal son, but there was a short interview in the wood shed.”

Four years later, he travelled to Chicago. This time with his father’s permission as he wanted to see the destruction left by the 1871 fire.

A photograph depicting blocks of devastation in Chicago after the fire in 1871.

The ruins after the 1871 fire in Chicago, Illinois.

A map depicting the “Burnt District” in Chicago after the 1871 great fire.

He went with a family friend named William Bigelow, the conductor on the Sterling freight train. Moses recalled that Chicago immediately appealed to him, writing in 1872 that “There must be a chance in such a big place for me and I made up my mind to go. All summer I pleaded with Father to allow me to go. He refused. If I wanted to paint, I could get a job at the wagon works at home.”

For the next year, Moses studied hard at school, published articles in the local paper and followed all of the rules. He wrote, “I was given a little more freedom this Winter and I went out a good deal to parties and sleigh rides. Father had relented and gave me some money so I could pay my way. It was harder for me to make up my mind to go to Chicago, but I felt I must get started.”

That spring during April of 1873, his “wild career as an Artist” began. Since his father declined to assist him with his with any artistic aspirations, Moses waited for the right moment and left for Chicago with ten cents in his pocket, a new pair of boots, warm clothes and “a lot of pluck.” He hitched a ride early in the morning with his conductor friend Bigelow, arriving in Chicago late that day. He sought out a family friend who was a Master Painter for the C. & N. W. Rail Road in Clinton, Iowa.

A map depicting the railroad lines in Illinois.

Mr. Michaels wrote a letter to Lucius Moses asking him to let his son give the art world a try and promising to look after him. The next morning, Mr. Michael helped Moses secure a position at the P. M. Almini Company for four dollars a week. The day after, he received his trunk from home, and with it a diary. Within four days of arriving in Chicago, Moses was making a living painting for a decorating studio.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 162 – Frank Deming Moses

Thomas G. Moses wrote about the separation of his family after his mother’s death. His sisters, Lucia and Illie, were sent back to the East with Aunt Annie while he and Frank remained with their father in Sterling, Illinois. He wrote that they were left to “the tender mercy of servants, who allowed us to run wild with the horses and other wild things, as Father had no time to give for us.”

The brothers were only two years apart in age and spent countless hours getting into mischief. Moses wrote, “If a vacant house was assaulted and all the glass broken, or an orchard or vineyard disturbed, either in the moonlight or daylight, the good people would exclaim, “It must have been those Moses’ boys.” He recalled that they were never vicious, only mischievous.

To stay out of trouble, the boys caught fish in a local river, selling them to the residents of Sterling for a little spending money. Unfortunately, this did not sit well with their father as he considered it a disgrace to the family name – “a Moses did not sell fish on a street corner.” However, with all the money they earned from selling fish, Frank was able to buy books.

The boys soon left their fishing partnership and sought employment opportunities elsewhere. Frank did a little work at the new gas works while Moses worked at their father’s tannery and harness shop. Both were obligated to give all of their hard-earned wages to their father. This never sat well with Thomas as he had aspirations to begin a painting career in Chicago. He would need funds for travel and lodging to seek employment there. Moses eventually left for the big city, with Frank remaining his only link to family and the Sterling area.

As adults, each brother travelled extensively for his respective career. Frank made a name for himself designing, installing, and supervising the new gas plants that were appearing all across the country. He was extremely well known and respected in the gas industry.

Around the same time that Thomas began his artistic career at the interior decorating firm of the P.M. Almini Co. in Chicago, Frank began his career as a lamp lighter for the Sterling gas company.

*An anonymous lamplighter during the nineteenth century.*

In 1879 Frank journeyed to Indianapolis as a “gas maker,” soon becoming the project foreman for the area. From 1882-1889 he worked in engineering and construction at Kerr-Murray Manufacturing Co. in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Between 1889 and 1898 Frank travelled with the Mutual Fuel Gas Co. of Chicago and was stationed in various cities, including St. Joseph, MO, Zanesville, OH, and Bellevue, KY. By 1898 he moved to Trenton, NJ, and took charge of the new gas plant. The company was later absorbed into the South Jersey Gas Electric and Traction Company, but Frank became chief engineer and remained with the company until 1902. The following year he went into business for himself, building gas works and later incorporating the Gas Engineering Company. Frank was one of the pioneers who introduced gas ranges in this country.

*One of Frank D. Moses’ advertisements for gas ranges.*

He had large contracts for selling and installing ranges and appliance in many eastern cities that included Trenton, NJ, Camden, NJ, Baltimore, MD, Troy, and Albany, NY. At the end of his life, Frank D. Moses was president of the Gas Engineering Co. of Trenton, New Jersey and applied for a patent on a gas apparatus. He passed away on November 7, 1927, after spending 52 years in the gas business.

*Frank D. Moses’ design for a gas apparatus.*

The American Gas Association Monthly noted Frank Moses’ contribution to the gas industry when he passed away, listing him as one of the gas industry’s “old guard.” Thomas’ son, Pitt, followed the career of his uncle and worked with him at the gas plant in New Jersey. Moses recorded in his diary that he had been unaware of any health concerns with his brother. It was a time when personal illnesses were not always openly shared with family members.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 161 – Thomas G. Moses, Son of a Son of a Sailor

When I first viewed the damaged Fort Scott scenery at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center, I kept thinking, “They really don’t really understand the significance of the artist or this acquisition.” Why would anyone leave the repair and hanging of these large scale paintings to inexperienced hands? At the time, it was difficult to wrap my mind around the CEO’s final decision, especially after I had repeatedly explained the importance of this unique artist and his work.

Up to this point in my tale, I have presented information about the history of the collection, its components, the removal and transportation from Kansas to Minnesota, its subsequent destruction during an attempted restoration, and the many other manufacturers of painted illusion. I will now examine the talented individual who designed and painted the 1924 scenery collection at sixty-eight years old – Thomas Gibbs Moses (1856-1934).

Here are the first few lines from his typed manuscript:

“I was born in Liverpool, England, July 21, 1856. My father, Lucius M. Moses, was born in Great Falls, New Hampshire, April 21, 1822. He married my Mother, Mary Wingate Titcomb, August 14, 1849, at Wells Beach, Maine, where she was born on May 14, 1825.”

Moses’ parents both came from significant New England families. His mother was one of five children born to Joanna Wentworth Rollins (1804-1860) and Jeremy H. Titcomb (1801-1880). She married Lucius Moses of Somersworth, New Hampshire, in 1849. The wedding took place at her father’s property in Wells Beach, the well-known Atlantic House. Titcomb had opened the residence for business on June 15, 1846.

The Atlantic House in Wells Beach, Maine, where Thomas G. Moses’ parents were married in 1849.

Moses’ father was a sea captain and part owner in the ships that he sailed, the last being a bark built by William Hanscom in 1833. Moses recorded, “The wonderful full rigged ship “Pactolus” was handed over to another Master, much regretted by my Father, for he loved salt water and sailing. As I do sketching and painting, I am afraid I inherited some of his roving disposition.” Lucius M. Moses was certainly “the son of a son of a sailor.” I recalled the line sung by Jimmy Buffet, “As a dreamer of dreams and a traveling man, I have chalked up many a mile.” Moses was born at sea. The family sailed as far as east India and as far south as Rio de Janeiro.

Photograph of an unidentified three-masted bark, similar to the Pactolus – the last ship sailed by the Moses family before moving inland.

The Sterling Daily Gazette, would later note Lucius Moses as “one of several old New England sea captains who settled in Whiteside county” (Dec. 13, 1927, page 2). Genealogical records state that Lucius’ career on the sea lasted for twenty-two years before returning to land. Lucius Manlius Moses, mainly known as Capt. L. M. Moses, was born the son of another sea captain who had worked for many years in the merchant marines, Theodore Bland Moses.

Moses’ diary notes that that his father was in the fortunate position that allowed his family to accompany him on long voyages. Life on the sea, however, was never without tragedy. Two of the Moses’ children died while at sea, their first son Lucius and their daughter Kate. The remaining five children were Lucia Gray (1853), Thomas Gibbs (1856), Frank Deming (1858), Illie (1860), and Little Kate (1862).

In 1859, the family left living a life on the sea and headed inland. Lucius sold his interests in the ships and moved west with his family to New Hampshire. He invested in a tannery for a side line and began to carve out his new life on land. It was then that their mother Mary perished after the birth of Little Kate, leaving Lucius to raise four children by alone until he found another wife. Moving once again, the family settled in Sterling, Illinois, where Lucius established Sterling Hide and Leather Shop with a partner. His business was a successful one and eventually he owned sole interest in the company, also running a tannery and harness shop.

1869 view of Sterling, Illinois. Thomas G. Moses was thirteen years old when the town was this size.

When his mother died at the age of five, Thomas Moses recalled, “I remember every detail and incident of her heath. I can see each dear friend of Mother’s grouped about. I crawled upon the bed to kiss her good-bye. One of her last bequests was to give her watch to “Tommy,” which I received after I had passed middle age.”

But it was his mother’s drawing book from 1835 that Moses would treasure the most. Later in life, he lamented, “If she had only lived, what a wonderful Art companion I would have had. I know she would have given me the encouragement I needed to start with.”

He identified the loss of his mother as much more than that of a parent. He agonized over the loss of his first potential art instructor, knowing that his artistic training as child would have given him a leg up in the art world. In 1931 Moses wrote, “I feel that at the age of 75 years the twilight of my life is rapidly approaching, and when the sun goes down all of my ambition to shine in the art world will go with it; closing the career of one who has had many rosy dreams that have proven to be the dreams of a plodder. Had my mother been spared to me, I would have had the proper art training to develop the natural ability which I inherited from her, for she was very artistic in many ways as shown in one of her drawing books when she was only fifteen years of age. I have this book. Without this training, I have been exiled to live and struggle against great odds in my effort to gain a foothold in art. It has been a long fight to get standing as scenic artist, in which field I have won a certain reputation which has carried me into the limelight, of which I am justly proud. However, at the same time, I realize that an early training would have been a great help, and possibly enabled me to reach my goal of landscape painting without the aid of scenic painting.”

At such an early age he lost the only family member who would ever understand his choice to leave his job at the tannery in Sterling and enter the world of art.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 160 – Scattered Pictures of the Smiles We Left Behind

Part 160: Scattered Pictures of the Smiles We Left Behind

In the performing arts we leave a part of our self, or our art, behind after the production closes. Whether visual or verbal, our “scattered pictures” become references for future endeavors. We seek training and inspiration from our predecessors. As I examine the lives of scenic artists, stage carpenters, and others theatre practitioners, I have noticed many share a common thread. There is a desire to leave some sort of legacy behind, whether it is art or technology. It can be material or intangible, but we want something to remain after our earthly adventure ends. For Thomas. G. Moses and others, it meant leaving a written record of their journey.

When I first read Moses’ typed manuscript I was awestruck. For decades, he carefully made daily entries in a diary. He also clipped and pasted newspaper articles in his scrapbook. Moses saved information pertaining not only to his own accomplishments, but also those of his friends. Somewhere along the way, his intention was to publish a book, “Sixty Years Behind the Curtain Line.” In the end it remained an unpublished manuscript simply titled “My Diary.” His writings included poetry, reflections of the time, admiration for his colleagues, frustration with employers, the challenge of family, brushes with fame, devastating events, and everyday affairs. Throughout it all, his passion for art and his wife shone through the text with an unbeatable enthusiasm for life.

In a 1932 letter to his son Pitt, Moses wrote,

“While I hope to enjoy a few more years of painting, the sudden passing of Ellie, Frank and Lucia has forced me to realize that I have only a few more years at the most and when I do pass out, I want to feel that my life has not been wasted, and my work will live on for many years after I am gone.” Amazingly, many of his paintings for both fine art and scenic art remain hanging in Scottish Rite theaters across the country. During the installation of scenery collections, Moses often donated a fine art piece to the Valley, or a local friend. For many years, his work has remained tucked away at various archives, museums, and private residences.

Painting by Thomas G. Moses. His gift to the Pasadena Scottish Rite in 1925. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, 2016.

Detail in landscape painted by Thomas G. Moses and presented to the Pasadena Scottish Rite in 1925. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, 2016.

Painted detail from backdrop painted that was by Thomas Moses for the Winona Scottish Rite. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, 2014.

I believe his legacy really lives in his memoirs, thoughts and plans recorded in small annual diaries that he began to write in 1873.

But why did he start making diary entries that year? I had always wondered. With his busy schedule, why had he took the time to record his thoughts at the end of each day, every day, for sixty years. I discovered the answer while examining a research file on Moses kept by John R. Rothgeb this past fall. It is one of many random and unprocessed documents contained in the Rothgeb Papers at the Harry Ransom Center (University of Texas, Austin).

Moses’ father, Lucius M.(1822-1891), wrote a letter to his son on March 14, 1873. It accompanied a trunk that was from Sterling, Illinois to Chicago. Lucius was fifty-one years old when he sent the following letter to his seventeen-year-old son “Tommy,” living at #208 Fifth Avenue in Chicago, Illinois.

He wrote, “My Dear Son Tommy,

Mother has fixed up your shirts and packed your trunk. I shall send it in by the 6 o’clock train to-morrow (Saturday morning). I could not possibly get it off to-day as I was very busy this morning. Frank got your old books all mended up and they are in the trunk. I shall pay the expressage on the trunk. I will do all I can to keep you in clothes and when you are really in need let me know. Mother put in some paper for you to write home on also some envelopes. I have bot [sic] you a little diary for you to make memorandums on and it has a cash a/c where you can keep a/c of money received and spent. I would have got a larger one, but mother thought your pockets were too shallow for a large one. You will find $5.00 and some stamps in the Diary.” The letter continues with financial advice and instructions for recording wages and living expenses, ending with “P.S. The diary is in the trunk.” It was signed, “From your affectionate father, L. M. Moses.”

I immediately thought of parents everywhere sending children off on their own adventures. We set them free, hoping that they won’t need help, but wanting to make sure that they know it’s available if needed. During many goodbyes, we offer those final parting words of wisdom, or last minute advice. Whether it is on their first day of college, before their wedding or after we leave this world, there is the hope that we have given them all of the tools to not only survive, but also thrive and enjoy life. Moses’ parents were sending clothing, books, financial advice, some money, and a diary – all of the essentials for a boy on his own in the big city.

Moses continued to write daily in a small diary continuously, even during the last five years of his life. I believe that his diary entries signified an unbreakable connection with his father when he first left home in 1872. Although his father passed in 1891, Moses continued to record his daily activities and income. Last fall, I transcribed Moses’ 1931 diary and am currently working on the years 1929, 1930, 1932 and 1933. These are the only remaining handwritten diaries by Moses. His small diaries depict more of a daily struggle, instead of the romanticized reflection of his 1931 manuscript. His reflections at the age of seventy-five are colored by age and his growing hope to leave some positive mark when he passed from this world. Moses’ diaries are his legacy as much as his fine art or 1924 Fort Scott scenery collection.

Thomas G. Moses Diary from 1931. Private collection. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, 2016.

Already in 1922 at the age of sixty-four he wrote, “I trust my diary will be of some interest to my relatives and brother scenic artists. I feel sure that my work will be of some interest inasmuch as I was compelled to travel over the United States a great deal from Maine to California, which gave me a great chance to meet big people of the dramatic world in the days of real actors and plays of real merit.”

I first read this statement at the age of nineteen and was determined to make a positive mark on the world too. Maybe not one that was recognized in my lifetime, but some small contribution to a much larger picture that preserved theatrical heritage for future generations to enjoy. Maybe my purpose is to make sure that Moses’ voice remains of interest to his “relatives and brother scenic artists.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 144 – Spectacle at Coney Island, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Thomas Moses

The past two posts have delved into the world of Coney Island spectacles. This is part of my continued exploration of the life and times of Thomas G. Moses, the creator of the Fort Scott scenery collection.

Moses also designed and painted many attractions for Coney Island from 1902 to 1904, having arrived in New York during 1900. Although he initially painted for Broadway, he was soon caught up in the excitement of Luna Park on Coney Island. In many ways, I think that this may have been the happiest time in his life. He was on an artistic ascent and jobs were plentiful. He would only leave this region after Joseph S. Sosman pleaded for his return to Sosman & Landis Studio in Chicago during 1904.

Postcard deppicting the entrance to Luna Park on Coney Island.

In 1902, Moses recorded that Fred Thompson had started to build Luna Park, opposite Dreamland and Steeple Chase Park on Coney Island. Thompson and Elmer “Skip Dundy” became the park’s creators after creating a wildly successful ride, “Trip to the Moon,” for the 1901 Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York. They transported the attraction to Coney Island an experienced a wildly successful season during 1902.

“Trip to the Moon” attraction on Coney Island.

At the end of the season, they immediately began planning their own amusement park, leasing Paul Boyton’s Sea Lion Park. Their sixteen-acre park soon expanded it to twenty-two acre park after acquiring some more adjoining land. Advertising that new park had cost one million dollars to construct, it opened on May 16, 1903. At eight o’clock on the evening of the first day, 250,000 lights illuminated their venture, outlined the buildings and creating a magical land.

Moses was involved in creating a major attraction in Luna Park called “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” with his partner Will Hamilton. In his typed manuscript, Moses writes,

“Our first big job for ‘Luna Park’ was ‘20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.’ It was a very unique show and kept us busy for several months. We had a real submarine boat in front of the show that actually sank with the passengers and was totally submerged. The passengers were then taken out of the boat through a passageway into another boat, a duplicate of the one they first entered. Then, the effect of under the sea was sprung on them and it worked perfectly. The illusion was very convincing.”

Crowds on street in front of “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” attraction created by Thomas G. Moses and Will Hamilton.

This illusion took visitors on a trip beneath the seas in the Nautilus submarine. Passengers boarded the vessel, the outer hatch closed, and passengers dove deep beneath the ocean’s surface. Through portholes, one could see monsters of the deep, sunken ships and huge coral reefs. The ship journeyed from the Indian Sea to the North Sea. During their journey, they hit an iceberg during their ascent to the surface. When the passengers unloaded from the ride they were treated to the Arctic’s cold atmosphere, created from ammonia gas, and a spectacular view of the Aurora Borealis. They also experienced Eskimos in fur skins who had emerged from their homes, eager to meet the new arrivals. The total cost for this illusion was approximately $180,000.

Same building transformed from “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” into “Dragon’s Gorge” in 1905.

In 1905, this attraction was replaced by “Dragon’s Gorge” – an indoor scenic railroad coaster that allowed visitors to witness magnificent scenes from the North Pole all the way to the Grand Canal. So popular was ride that it remained open until 1944 when it was destroyed by fire.

Moses and Hamilton also produced the attraction called “Fire and Flames.”

“Fire and Flames” at Coney Island. Note backdrop to left of building created by Thomas Moses and Will Hamilton.

Photograph of “Fire and Flames” attraction.

This was the reenactment of the actual burning of a four story brick buildings over the space of a city block. Fire engines raced to the scene and over sixty firemen rescued people from the burning buildings. Visitors watched people leap from smoke-filled windows onto a net below. Moses recounted this project, writing, “Real fire, real engines and an awful mob of street vendors and loafers. A lot of good comedy and it did good business. It was so popular that a similar attraction called “Fighting the Flames” immediately appeared at “Dreamland.”

Moses and Hamilton also did several other small shows at Luna Park, including “The War of Worlds” for which they received $2,900.00. Moses even notes their $2,200.00 profit, as they painted it in less that one half the time we thought it would take. It was all painted in oil as the scenes all worked through a tank of water. The attraction included battleships that were large enough to hold the “good-sized boy” who operated them during in battle scenes. Moses recalled this “big hit,” but one having “too much powder and noise.”

Luna Park proved to be a lucrative investment for many scenic artists as Coney Island. Elaborate venues with massive spectacles really showcased their art. This was a unique period in time when new opportunities were abundant for theatre manufacturers and suppliers. New technology was integrated into old pictorial illusions. The inspiring artist and investor had many opportunities to experiment with spectacle. Amusement park attractions also proved to be inspiration for early films.

Thomas Edison even made a short movie depicting the 1904 “Fire and Flames” attraction at Coney Island. The scenic realism and early movies of Moses’ contemporary Harley Merry continue tomorrow. In the meantime, here is the link to the short film for a wonderful step back in time: (https://letterboxd.com/film/fire-and-flames-at-luna-park-coney-island-an-attraction-at-coney-island/)

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 122 – Thomas G. Moses and the Decorating Firm of Jevne & Almini

I first encountered the Jevne & Almini Company when creating an index for the typed manuscript of Thomas Gibbs Moses. It was an independent study project for my mentor, Lance Brockman. This decorating firm would remain in the back of my mind for almost three decades until I started making a few connections during January 2017. Moses was one of many nineteenth-century scenic artists who would begin their careers at the fresco studio of Jevne & Almini.

Advertisement for Jevne & Almini, Fresco and House Painters. This is the place where many scenic artists found their first job in Chicago, Illinois.

While working as a decorator for the company, Moses recalled a project at Hooleys Theater where he first encountered the scenic art of Charles Graham (1852-1911). In 1874. Moses wrote, “In June I was sent to Hooleys Theatre to work. On the scenery [were] employed J. Francis Murphy and Chas. Graham. I was put in charge of the proscenium boxes, mostly gilding. I could see the work being done on the paint frame. I was more convinced that scenery was what I wanted to do; more opportunity to do landscapes.”

View of Hooley’s Theatre interior and proscenium boxes that Thomas Gibbs Moses worked on in 1874.

Hooley’s Opera House, the Parlor of Home Comedy, was dedicated on 21 October 1872 and later became known simply as Hooley’s Theater (1872-1924). Located at 124 West Randolph Street, the cut stone and iron building occupied twenty-three feet of street frontage.

The auditorium had a seating capacity of 1,500 and the stage was 50 feet wide and 65 feet deep. Mr. Hooley and his stock company first appeared on Monday evening, 31 August 1874. This upcoming performance was why an eighteen-year-old Moses was working at the theater that June.

Charles S. Graham work that sold at auction. It reminded me of many “Rocky Pass” compositions painted for the stage.

Painted detail from St. Louis Scottish Rite Rocky Pass scene, 1924, that reminded me of Graham’s painting.

Full composition of Rocky Pass backdrop at the St. Louis Scottish Rite.

Charles S. Graham (1852-1911) was born in Rock Island, Illinois. He became a topographer in 1873 for the Northern Pacific Railroad and it was this position became his training ground as a draftsman and artist. However from 1874 to 1877, Graham painted theatrical scenery in both Chicago and New York. It just so happened that it was on one of his first scenic art jobs that Moses encountered his scenery painting. By 1878, Graham started as the staff artist at Harper’s Weekly and remained there until 1892. He was also a contributing illustrator for a variety of other publications, including the New York Herald, the Chicago Tribune, the American Lithograph Company, and Collier’s. The work of Graham is best known in the publication “Peristyle and Plasaisance” where he created a series of watercolors depicting scenes from the 1893 Chicago world’s fair. Advertisements stated that the illustrations illustrated “nooks and corners of the Fair as no photograph could do.”

Advertisement noting Charles S. Graham’s contribution to “Peristyle and Plaisance.”

Color plate depicting scene from 1893 World Fair. Watercolor by Charles S. Graham.

Amazingly, it was one of Graham’s 1878 illustrations for Harper’s that caught my eye years ago as it beautifully captured scenic artists at work in a theater.

Charles S. Graham illustration of scenic artists at a theater in 1878. Collection of Wendy Waszut-Barrett.

Detail of performance going on below the working scenic artists. 1878 illustration by Charles S. Graham.

Detail of Charles S. Graham signature on illustration. Collection of Wendy Waszut-Barrett.

It was created for “The Sunday Telegraph” (New York, September 28, 1902) and titled “The Scene Painter is No Ghost.” Here is the article that accompanied Graham’s illustration:

“How many theatregoers can give the names of three scene painters in New York? Playhouse patrons admire their art, and even applaud it on opening night, but they know nothing about it, and it is a most unusual occasion when the artist is called before the curtain. He is not discussed at clubs or in the drawing rooms. The cheapest show girl in a Broadway burlesque, with just about brains enough to remember he name over night, gets her picture in the magazines several times in the course of a season and is written about as if she really was of some importance.

Up on the paint bridge, seventy feet above her head, is the scene painter. He is putting the finishing touches to a drop that has taken him many days to paint and more years of hard study to learn how. The press agent never worries him for his photograph, the dramatic reporters couldn’t find him if they went back on stage. The show is over, the lights are put out and a deathly stillness settles upon the theatre. The watchman lazily makes his rounds and finds the scenic artist and his assistants at work finishing a drop or a border or priming new ones. When the artist leaves the theatre the streets are still. He reaches home and over his pipe wonders if the game is worth the candle.”

To be continued…

Detail of Charles S. Graham 1878 illustration depicting scenic artists at the theatre. Collection of Wendy Waszut-Barrett.

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Acquiring the Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center, part 62

You Came to Me from Out of Nowhere

We left Santa Fe and the Scottish Rite on October 23, 2016, heading toward Austin, Texas. It would take us two days to get there and Christee Lee was determined that we visit the UFO Museum in Roswell. While touring the museum, I thought of the CEO’s comment regarding the creation of the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center’s Ladd Museum. He said, “Anyone can design a museum.” Looking at plastic Kmart frames showcasing copies of questionable facts hung from pegboards, I thought, “Yes, ANYONE can design a museum, but that doesn’t mean that they SHOULD.” I knew that at some point, the owner and investors had walked through with immense pride for their creation, not understanding that it could have been so much more.

UFO Museum display in Roswell, New Mexico.

After lunch in an alien-themed Mexican restaurant, we continued on toward Texas in the repaired RV. Now complete with new tires and a repaired septic, we would face yet another trial.

It was rush hour when we entered the Austin City limits. I had just finished transcribing the last page of Moses’ 1931 Diary and noticed that we had pulled into a parking lot. We were waiting for the rush-hour traffic to diminish and I said “What timing!” We were almost to our final location and decided to stop for dinner. I was still mentally processing the final entries by Moses as I crawled out of the backseat. In December of 1931, Moses shipped his designs and theatre model off to Chicago in two massive trunks that necessitated excess handling fees.

Transcribing Moses’ 1931 Diary in the backseat of a truck while we crossed the country.

Stepping out of the truck onto the warm asphalt, I took stock of our new surroundings when I heard an exclamation from Christee. Unbelievably, the RV door wouldn’t open, it was jammed shut. After determining that prying open the door with a crow bar or shoving me in thru a broken window was not the soundest of plans, we called AAA and headed to our new campground. The remainder of the evening was spent waiting for a locksmith. Luckily, the lock on the exterior bar worked and we were able to relax while waiting for the locksmith and discussing our schedules for the next few days.

Success – the locksmith opened the RV door.

I had waited for over twenty years to visit the Harry Ransom Center and I was going to spend every single one of my moment there looking at the 1920s electric theatre model, Moses’ typed manuscript, and Moses’ scrapbook. This was the same manuscript and scrapbook that I created an index as an undergraduate student. I was extremely curious about the 1920’s model and the miniature lights that lit the stage. Lance Brockman had once photographed it and raved about miniature lights, explaining how the painting could change each scene from daytime to nighttime. So amazed was he with it, that he had included images in his catalogue for “Theatre of the Fraternity: Staging the Sacred Space of the Scottish Rite” in 1996.

Eric Colleary, Cline Curator of Theatre and Performing Arts at the Harry Ransom Center, was going to personally take me into the bowels of the archives the next day as the two trunks could not be moved to the reading room. It had taken over a month to plan my trip to the archives, but Brockman had connected me with the Colleary who also held a Ph.D. from the University of Minnesota’s Department of Theatre Arts and Dance.

While driving across the plains of Texas and reading Moses’ diary entries, I began to wonder if there might be any connection between the theatre model that I was traveling to see, rumored as a Sosman & Landis Studio artifact, and Moses. Would there be any of Moses’ 1920s designs in with the collection, such as the unique Fort Scott compositions from 1924?

The next day, we wound our way to the model, pushing aside rows of hanging puppets that blocked our path. How ironic, I thought, here is this magnificent model tucked away behind rows of puppets – the painted stage’s smallest performers. I looked at the two massive trunks sitting on palettes against the back wall and had a growing sense of excitement. Could these really contain Moses’ work?

The two trunks containing the model stage and Masonic designs at the archives.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Acquiring The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center, part 60

Escape

It felt like I was fleeing the state on October 12, 2016; so desperate was my need to leave Minnesota and seek sanctuary in Santa Fe. I began a cross-country road trip with two dear friends from college. We had all been in the theatre department together at the University of Minnesota and shared many stressful times working on theatre productions or other projects. It was a trip that would test the limits of any relationship as we journeyed from Des Moines, Iowa, to Santa Fe, New Mexico in Christee Lee’s RV. After Santa Fe, our plan was to venture east to Austin, Texas, so that I could visit the Harry Ransom Research Center at the University of Texas – Austin. There was a 1920s electric theatre model that I had wanted to see for over twenty years.

At Jethro’s BBQ enjoying dinner with Christee, Andrew and Isabelle before departing on our trip the next day. Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa.

Getting the RV ready to leave Des Moines, Iowa.

As we travelled across country, I finally started a project that had been on the back burner since 2014; transcribing a handwritten diary of Thomas Gibbs Moses from 19131. In case you had forgotten, Moses was the sole scenic artist for the Fort Scott collection and I had been restoring his landscape drops in Scottish Rite theaters for years.

This handwritten diary was but one of many that he referenced when compiling his final typed manuscript in 1931. As an undergraduate, I had created an index for both Moses’ Diary and his Scrapbook. The handwritten diary is part of Lance Brockman’s collection, and he had passed it off to me during the fall of 2014 with the hope that I would transcribe it in my “spare time.” Unfortunately, my work for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center had taken precedence over the past two years and it had remained untouched – always placed on the corner of my drafting table. This little book had moved from my Bella Scena, LLC office in Cambridge to my “office house” in Bloomington, and finally to our new home in Crystal. For my travels, I took digital photos of each page, knowing that I would want to enlarge them on my iPad for viewing.

My view from the backseat during our cross country journey.

I watched the landscape from the back seat of a truck, carefully transcribing page after page of Moses’ almost illegible script. My iPad perched against the door handle and my laptop balanced on my knees, I slowly entered each word into my document. Moses had a tendency to not only misspell, but also use various spellings for the same word. The first twenty pages of transcription were difficult until I familiarized myself with his cursive and the phrasing. My first breakthrough was recognizing “the,” and “down.” Interestingly, if I didn’t think to hard about what I was doing, the sentences would occasionally just flow from the page onto my laptop.

A page from the 1931 Diary of Thomas G.Moses – owned by Lance Brockman.

1931 was a low point in Moses’ career, having been betrayed by many of those he had worked for throughout the past five decades and found himself financially stressed. He looks back over the years, yearning to paint for pleasure instead of a paycheck; he wishes that he were a more accomplished as an artist at the age of 75. His age and health were becoming a liability as he struggled to obtain work for the first time in his life. Up until then, it had he had an abundance of work. As I realized his struggle, both financial and internal, I thought that this might be an appropriate time to read his entries.

On January 14, 1931, he writes, “I am going to Milwaukee tomorrow with Megan and see if I can dig up some work as I understand there is a Masonic job up there or that is what I want to do as much as I can as I am more fitted for that.” He knew the type of painting that he did best, yet the Masonic work was drying up after the crash of 1929 and the Scottish Rite Masons were not paying their bills. Masons not paying their bills was nothing new and the scenic studios constantly waited in fear for a Valley to renege on a contract, or skip the final payment. For years, the Sosman & Landis Studio financed various Scottish Rite Valleys for terms of six years or more. But many Valleys were always late on the final payments, making both artists and studios to beg for what was contractually theirs.

Furthermore, as painted scenery work became scarce, the game of securing scenery installations became a cutthroat business for scenic studios. As a younger generation began to replace original studio founders and create competing companies in the 1920s, old alliances began to crumble. Gentlemanly agreements between studios during the first two decades of twentieth century ceased. Moses continued to seek work and studio space in both California and Illinois, finding plenty of “part-time” work without any of the full-time job security. During some of his darkest hours his family suffered from Scarlet Fever. On top of everything else, Moses writes in despair, “Still floundering along with little in sight, and the house full of sick ones.” My little case of Shingles paled in comparison.

This was a particularly difficult story to read for a variety of reasons, but especially in light of my former employer. As I transcribed Moses’ soul-wrenching entries, I sympathized with his desperation and overall sense of betrayal. He had worked as a scenic artist for over fifty years and now was either being cast aside for cheaper artists or taken advantage of by studio owners. Moses understood that his age was a liability, but there were no retirement plans. There simply was no safety net for aging freelance artists. So Moses turned to fine art, painting and trying to sell enough of his work to cover his ever-increasing bills, writing, “I am doing all I can to get some of my pictures out but it seems a hard job, no one wants to take a chance on selling them.”

Moses never joined the scenic artists’ union nor transitioned into painting for film. His career remained firmly in the production of painted scenery for the stage with skills that many no longer sought. Furthermore, he did not have the backing of a single company to ensure his retirement as Sosman & Landis became tossed about between shareholders. Moses only had a savings account for old age and that was rapidly diminishing after the 1929 market crash.

As I continued to transcribe the diary on my way to Santa Fe, I wondered about his contractual negotiations both in Santa Fe and Fort Scott. Did either of these Valleys pay their final invoices on time or were they part of the ongoing problem; one that would manifest into aged buildings with deferred maintenance?

To be continued…

Scenes from our road trip – the second campground with metal rental “tipis” according to the signs.

Scenes from our road trip -photographing dramatic skies for future painting projects.

Scenes from our road trip -photographing dramatic skies for future painting projects. “Red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky in morning, sailors take warning.” This was the day we starting to encounter vehicle problems.

Our first view of the mountains in Colorado! I felt like I could finally breathe again.

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Acquiring the Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery Collection for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center, part 20.

Little Boxes

The discovery of the paintbrush in loft above the stage prompted an extensive search. Soon, I was sitting in the dirt and peering two feet down into a six-inch gap along the studio floor, looking for more treasure. Austin’s arms were far longer, so he pulled out the majority of the items. It quickly became apparent to my crew that this was not a case of “finders keepers” as had been the case with the remainder of trash piles scattered throughout the building. I now confiscated everything, hoping to add to even more artistic provenance for the Fort Scott scenery collection.

In the same spot from where we retrieved the scenic brush, colorful pieces of wood began to emerge. I immediately identified these slats as pieces from dry pigment boxes. With each new discovery, I expressed extreme delight!

Brandon and Austin shot me a puzzling glance, almost every time that I examined an artifact. Occasionally they asked, “Are you taking THAT back to Minnesota too!?!” Their skepticism was understandable as most of the finds resembled construction trash, or broken bits of wood, in the dim light. Although they were broken and dirty, the pigment boxes still displayed the vibrant colors of their original contents.

What was a secondary surprise were the shipping labels. Although faded, black stencils denoted the manufacturer and client! For years, I had tracked down the various dry pigment suppliers in Chicago, trying to identify those who supplied Sosman & Landis Studios with their colors. I could now verify at least one of the suppliers for painted scenery projects.

The dry pigment had been shipped to “Sosman and Landis c/o the Scottish Rite Fort Scott, Kansas.” For me, this was a smoking gun

All the while, I kept thinking of the folk song “Little Boxes” with Malvina Reynold’s lyrics:

“There’s a green one and a pink one

And a blue one and a yellow one

And they’re all made out of ticky-tacky

And they all look just the same.”

Well, just like transporting 300 pounds of whiting and a wooden barrel, I was taking some “ticky-tacky” home.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Acquiring the Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery Collection for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center, part 19.

Colorful Ruminations above the Stage

I climbed twenty-feet up above the stage, using the narrow metal ladder to reach a level that had once possibly been Thomas G. Moses’ onsite paint studio. At the age of sixty-eight, Moses had ascended this same ladder multiple times every day during his brief stay in Fort Scott to paint the scenery. I was reminded once again that scenic art has never been a profession for the weak.

The platform, or studio floor, above the stage area was now in abandoned ruins. In June 2014, all contents in the building had been auctioned off. By 2015 any artifacts remaining in the complex were only small piles of discarded items. Up here, there were only mounds of dirt and debris.

I tried to imagine the space as it was 1924 – a paint studio, complete with impromptu paint tables holding pots of color and brushes, maybe even buckets of water and a drop tacked onto the temporary frame. My initial hope had started to plummet, realizing that Austin might have been right and only the single barrel of whiting remained – nothing else.

Regardless, my first task was to look for splotches of dry pigment color on the floor marking paint spills or where the colorful powder had leaked from either bags or boxes. Areas with dry pigment could verify Moses’ onsite paint studio. The barrel of whiting could have technically have belonged to any onsite painter, not just a scenic artist. I needed more information.

There was almost too much dirt to even identify what was beneath my feet or what the floor was constructed of in the dim light. I continued my trek across the space, carefully looking down and trying to spot any anomaly amongst piles of dirt. Did I bring my flashlight up here? No, of course not. I tripped and kicked up some dust. Coughing, I also realized that I didn’t have my particle mask. It was next to my flashlight in the auditorium.

Oh well, I thought. Opening the barrel of whiting would warrant another trip up here anyway. I continued onto the barrel, careful not to trip in the dark – again- and I recognized that I could be courting disaster. No flashlight, no particle mask, and no railing along the steep edge. All I needed to do was to cough, trip, stumble and fall to the stage floor. The idea of this catastrophe resulting from Murphy’s law made me giggle. I had already tripped over the tubes downstairs and my ankle was swollen beyond recognition! I had a mental image of shouting “Charge!” and attempting to race up a staircase with my swollen ankle. What was I thinking?!?!

These distracting thoughts ceased as I neared the barrel of whiting, seeing a splotch of bright blue against the grey. I recognized it as dry pigment. Brandon noticed another one near the edge of the ledge too. There were colorful reminders of the past with every step! And the color wasn’t only on the floor, but there were also splatters of dry pigment all over the brick walls. At this point, I was ecstatic and internally celebrating the confirmation of my theory.

Austin, the youngest of our crew, became curious and crouched onto the dirty floor, crawling to the gap between the floor and brick wall. He got down on his hands and knees, brushed the dirt aside, and reached down into the gap. It reminded my of a movie scene from my youth when of Flash Gordon reached his hand into the tree trunk hole as a test of courage.

I kind of smirked as I thought, “Oh to be young again….” This smirk quickly turned to astonishment as he pulled a paintbrush from the crack. But this was not just any paintbrush, it was a scenic artist’s brush called a fitch!

To be continued…