At the beginning of 1920, Thomas
G. Moses wrote, “A one night stunt for Mrs. Ryerson at the Congress Hotel Gold
Room caused considerable trouble.” Moses was referring to Mrs. Martin Ryerson
and the Congress Plaza hotel. The Gold Room hosted many interesting events during
1920. On January 20, there was an opportunity to meet an socialize with
performers from the Chicago Grand Opera Company. This is possibly the “one-night
stunt” that Moses was referring to in January.
Congress Hotel’s Gold Room in Chicago.Congress Hotel’s Gold Room in Chicago.
The Congress Hotel was originally
called the Auditorium Annex and built in 1893, hosting many visitors attending
the World Fair that year. The current website for the venue states, “The original
conception was an annex with a façade designed to complement Louis Sullivan’s
Auditorium Building across the street, at the time housing a remarkable hotel,
theater and office complex. The Auditorium Annex was built by famous hotel developer
R.H. Southgate. The first section, or north tower, was designed by Clinton
Warren, with Louis Sullivan and Dankmar Adler serving as consultants. “Peacock
Alley,” a celebrated feature of the new hotel, was an underground marble
passageway that connected the new annex with the Auditorium Hotel. The south
tower, constructed between 1902 and 1907, was designed by renowned
architectural firm Holabird and Roche. The South Tower construction included a
magnificent banquet hall, now known as the Gold Room, which would become the
first hotel ballroom in America to use air-conditioning. Another ballroom,
called the Florentine Room, was added to the North Tower in 1909. These two
famous public rooms combined with the Elizabethan Room and the Pompeian Room to
host Chicago’s elite social events of the day.” Here is the link to this
historic Chicago Hotel: https://www.congressplazahotel.com/history
Peacock Alley at the Congress Hotel in Chicago.
In regard to the Ryersons, they of
elite society with money to burn and some good deeds to do. On January 8, 1920,
the “Chicago Tribune” reported a donation to the Field Museum by Mr. Ryerson
(page 1). The donation of 222 stone blocks, comprising Unasankh’s tomb, was
described in detail: “36×16 feet, with walls three feet thick…The excavation
was performed by Arabs under the supervision of British officials – and 222
stone blocks were crated and shipped to Chicago.” Headlines announced, “Egypt,
2650 B. C., to Chicago, 1920; Story of Tombs.” Museum director, Dr. Frederick
J. V. Skiff announced the gifts from Martin A. Ryerson and Edward A, Ayer. The
article reported, “Mr. Ayer, the first president of the museum and the chief
benefactor of its Egyptology department, learned of the possibility of
acquiring the sarcophagi of these ancient dwellers of the Nile, and recently he
conferred with Mr. Ryerson. That’s how Messrs. Uter-Neter and Unsankh happened
to lose their tombs. Six hundred carloads of exhibits now at the old museum in
Jackson park, about 80 per cent of them packed, are now being prepared for
transportation to Grant Park.” Mrs. Ryerson was also involved with a series of
guest lectures that spring, including Museum talks on Russian Art and
Literature.
Mrs. Ryerson pictured on the left, from the “Chicago Tribune,” 21 jan 1920, page 3.
It is important to understand that
scenic studios delivered far more than painted settings for commercial theater.
They were also an artistic resource for high society, collaborating with wealthy
women to produce elaborate and exotic themed social events for various
charities. Scenic artists were visionaries for many public spectacles.
In 1920, Thomas G. Moses wrote,
“The Madam and I saw Margaret Anglin in ‘The Woman of Bronze’ and it was very
good.” “The Madam” was Moses’ wife, Susan “Ella” Robbins Moses. Both turned 64
in 1920. Moses would live for another fourteen years after that.
From, the “Chicago Tribune,” 4 Jan 1920, page 96.From the “Chicago Tribune,” 14 Jan 1920 page 15.
“The Woman of Bronze” was written
by Henry Kistemaeker and Eugene Delard, adapted for the stage by Paul Kester. The
show premiered at the Powers’ Theatre in Chicago, starring Margaret Anglin and
went on tour. By the end of January, the show was featured at the Grand in
Topeka, Kansas, and by February was playing in Sacramento, California. By the
fall the show was featured at the at the Frazee Theatre, Forty-second street,
Manhattan. By the time is appeared in New York, Margaret Anglin, John Halliday
and Mary Fowler were featured as the leads from Sept. 7, 1920-April 1921.
From the “Topeka Daily Capital,” 31 Jan 1920, page 9.From the “Sacramento Star,” 26 Feb 1920 page 5.From the “San Francisco Examiner,” 26 Feb 1920 page 13.From the “San Francisco Examiner,” 22 Feb 1920, page 9.
The plot involves a husband’s infidelity with his artistic
model.
Percy Husband wrote a review for the “Chicago Tribune” on
January 9, 1920 (page 13):
“When Miss Anglin and the emotions are effectively in
confluence, as they are in ‘The Woman of Bronze,’ you may expect to experience
all the rapid and sympathetic heart-beats common to the theater. She knows her
way about the ‘situations.’ Her voice is attuned to words of passion and
distress; her individuality has great and friendly resources, her intelligence
is one of the finest of the American stage, and her knowledge of ways and means
is not excelled among the actors of the day. Her luck in the choice of plays,
is not always good, but she makes the best of it.
“Miss Anglin’s present implement is a bounteous exploitation
of the whilom triangle. She, as the adoring wife of a successful sculptor,
loses her artist to a youthful kinswoman, enduring the bereavement now with
controlled and quiet forbearance and again battling against it in temptuous
rebellion. The circumstances permit her to exercise the full of her art and her
splendid tricks and devices.
“You see her first, happy and carefree, with her husband and
her friends at their summer home (the time is the present, the place twenty
miles from New York), discussing his great work, The Woman of Bronze, a statue
commemorative of the victory of the allies and their associate in the war.
There you have Miss Anglin in her light and delicate mood, the smart and
humorous woman of the world, saying and doing with possibly too much precision
the right thing. You admire her so much that when, a little later, her husband
and her cousin embrace in the gloaming and utter the wild and broken phrases of
guilty amour, you wish that she might not steal in a catch them at it. But she
does, and you regard her highly as, with her world tumbling about her white
shoulders, she tells them that it is time for dinner.
“Then again, when it is teatime in the second act, and there
is sift music, chatter, and sex-epigrams, she and the raisonneur sit upon the
divan in the middle of the stage, close to the footlights, and she tells him of
her miseries. Of how she has followed her husband and his sweetheart to their
rendezvous, and standing in the rain, has watched the light in their chamber go
up and go out. A lady of the streets saw her thus, she says, and pitying her,
as one unhappy woman does another, pressed money into her hand and put her in a
cab. This recital, which is heard only by the audience, is disguised. The
others in the party think that Miss Anglin is whispering merely a funny story,
because she laughs to drown the noise of her breaking heart.
“If one could be critical about a drama, he might suspect
that the language in ‘The Woman of Bronze’ is perhaps superhuman in a rich,
dank, tropical way. ‘Take your hands off his heart,’ says Miss Anglin to her
successor in ‘A Woman of Bronze,’ just before she draws a dagger and threatens
to kill her, and the speech which Mr. Fred Eric, as sculptor husband, addresses
to his statue, just before he shatters it to bits, is that of a critic rather
than a human being. He says that it is carnal and soulless, and that its bronze
eyes are sightless, rather than gleaming with the spirit of sacrifice and
victory.
“At any rate, ‘The Woman of Bronze’ is deliberate,
premeditated and according to order. Paul Kester, who adapted it from the
collaboration of Henry Kistemaecker and Eugene Delard, deprives it of none of
its routine possibilities, and it is by no means a botch. The acting is very
good, and it includes that of Fred Eric as the sculptor, Walter Connolly as the
honest friend, Miss Marion Barney as a merry widow, Sydney Mather as a
semi-villain, and others, among them Miss Ethel Remy, who is rather fugitive
and fawn-like as the ingenue who spilled the beans.”
From the “New York Tribune,” 19 Sept 1920 page 38.
Three years later, “The Woman in Bronze” became a silent
movie. Moses and his wife also attended the movies quite frequently. In 1920 he
wrote, “We still keep up with the movie attendance. We do not always strike a
good picture.” I wonder if they ever saw the movie version of “The Woman in
Bronze.”
Scene from the 1923 movie, “The Woman of Bronze.”Scene from the 1923 movie, “The Woman of Bronze.”
In 1920, Thomas G. Moses wrote,
“Our new addition at home is nearly completed.
It has certainly hung along with the cold weather.”
The new addition was to the back
of the house, extending the kitchen. On
Jul 19, 2019, I sat in that addition, enjoying a cup of tea with the current homeowners.
My unanticipated stop was on a return trip from Philadelphia that month. I had a
little extra time on my drive that day and decided to visit the Oak Park
neighborhood.
Although I have written about
Moses’ Oak Park home before, here is a brief recap.
Thomas and Ella Moses began
house hunting in Chicago at the beginning of 1893, soon selecting a home in the
western suburb of Oak Park. Located on S. Euclid Ave, the structure was only a
year old and spacious enough to accommodate four children, ranging in age from
four to fourteen. Of their new home, Moses commented, “very fine wood-work, a
large stable, driveway, and a 60 x 178 feet lot.” They purchased the house for $8,575.00,
today’s equivalent of approximately $230,000.
Although the amount was much more than the couple wanted to pay, Moses
wrote that it appealed to them as no other one had. He had a perfect spot for a
home studio with plenty of light. His studio was located in the attic with a
high ceiling and ample room to hang pictures.
Years later, his grandchildren would recall being told not to bother
their grandpa when he was painting, yet they still managed to escape to the
third floor. Opening the attic door and
venturing up steep steps, they were never reprimanded, just given a small
project to keep them busy.
The Moses family moved into
their new home on May 1, 1893 – the same day that the Columbian Exposition
opened in Chicago. He recalled that
their new home provided plenty of room to entertain World Fair visitors.
I wanted to visit Moses’ Oak Park home since I first read about it as an undergraduate student. The Oak Park and Forest Park area, suburbs located immediately west of Chicago, were home to many Chicago artists who commuted to the city. Never dreaming that it was still standing, I was surprised when the address popped up in google maps and I zoomed in from the satellite view. From 1893-1934 Oak Park was home for the Moses family. Only from 1900-1904 did the couple rent the house out when they temporarily moved to New York, where Moses established the short-lived scenic studio Moses & Hamilton. Although they also spent a few winters in Oakland, California, Oak Park remained their primary residence.
Thomas G. Moses’ Oak Park home.
On the morning of July 19, 2019, I pondered
whether to drive to Moses’ Oak Park home or venture north to Fox Lake where the
Palette & Chisel Club built a summer camp.
I decided on Oak Park, as I could also stop by a nearby cemetery to
document some scenic artist graves. It was ridiculously hot that day and
darting out of my car to look at gravestones seemed preferable. Moses’ one-time
business partner, Walter Burridge, was buried in Forest Home Cemetery. On my
drive I contemplated if I should venture up to the front door and make contact
with the current owners. As I was traveling alone and the home was in an
unknown area, I remained undecided until I pulled up in front of the house. In
the end, I summoned up enough courage to knock on the door.
As I walked up the front steps, it was hard not to
think of the many artists who ascended these same steps throughout the duration
of Moses’ life, his close friends who stopped by to chat or discuss an upcoming
project. I recalled one particular instance when a few Palette & Chisel
Club friends came over to examine the 300+ paintings in his attic studio,
convincing him to do a one-man show.
When I reached the front door, I noticed the sign
“All are Welcome” and heaved a sigh of relief. My knock triggered a chorus of
dogs, and I began to wonder if someone was actually home. As I began to ponder my decision, the door slowly
opened. I was greeted by a smiling woman about my age. I was there for almost
two hours. My grand tour ended with a
cup of tea in the 1920-addition off the kitchen and a gift – a music CD; one of
the daughters has a band.
The front door and entryway of Thomas G. Moses’ home from 1893-1934.The front parlor of Thomas G. Moses’ home from 1893-1934. These were the windows with the street view.The back half of the front parlor. The door to the fir right led to the kitchen in the back of the house.Dining room with door on left leading to the kitchen and backstairs.The attic space that Thomas G. Moses used for a studio.
After visiting Moses’ home, I stopped by Forest
Lake cemetery and the drove southwest toward Moses’ hometown of Sterling,
Illinois. The part of my visit that continued to play in the back of my mind
was my ascent to the attic space that was once Moses’ studio. Standing in the
same space where he painted hundreds of artworks, some of which I own, was absolutely
magical. Sometimes, you experience a brief moment that verifies you’re
traveling on the right path. It’s like
getting a thumb’s up from the universe. Stopping by Moses’ Oak Park home and
studio brought closure to one road on my journey, a respite from what often seems
to be an insurmountable mountain of research.
There was still an abundance of artwork in Moses’
old home. Sharing stories and laughter with the current residents brought a
moment of peace.
In 1920, Thomas G. Moses wrote,
“We had a hustle job at the swell Casino Club.
We managed to complete it on time, and it looked very good.”
On Dec. 2, 1914, the “Chicago
Tribune” reported, “The Casino is the latest and most exclusive of all
Chicago’s clubs. Moreover, it is the only social organization reflecting the
modern spirit. Its membership includes both men and women – on a Dutch treat
basis of finances. There are 400 on the list. Perhaps this signifies, but some
years ago the late Ward McAllister of New York made the number socially famous.
He selected 400 members for New York Society. Since then Society – capitalized-
has known no other name more expressive than ‘The 400’” (page 13). Alongside
the article was a list of members. The article continued, “The club, after some
effort getting located and established at 167 East Delaware place is to be
opened on the afternoon of Saturday, Dec. 12, at 4 o’clock. After that much of
the social life of Chicago will receive it. Its chief object is to promote the
gayety and happiness of its members. Originally, with this thought in mind, it
was to have been called the ‘Bluebird,’ or perhaps ‘At the Sign of the
Bluebird,’ since the bluebird signifies the pursuit of happiness, but the name
was changed to the Casino early in the plans of the organization.”
The president of the club was
Mrs. Joseph G. Coleman, with Mrs. Howard Linn as the vice president. Robert G.
McGann was the secretary and Robert H. McCormick the treasurer. The governors
were Arthur Aldis, Mrs. John Alden Carpenter, Miss Helen Cudahy, Howard
Chatfield-Taylor, John T. McCutcheon, Howard F. Gilette, Harold A Howard, Frank
Hibbard, Eames MacVeagh, and Honoré Palmer. Moses had worked for Mrs. Coleman
and Mrs. Carpenter many times by 1919.
The future Casino Club pictured in the “Chicago Tribune,” 27 Jan 1914, page 2.
Edith Brown Kirkwood of the
“Chicago Tribune” described the interior of the club on Dec 13, 1919:
“When the Casino club opened
formally yesterday afternoon, spick and span in its fresh dress, not many of
the members realized what a few members had done for the whole of them.
“There were Mr. and Mrs. Honoré
Palmer, Mrs. John Alden Carpenter, and Miss Catherine Dudley, and Harold
Howard, who had put on their working clothes early in the morning, after having
spent many days getting the club built, and had gone over to the clubhouse to
get things in readiness for the great moment. There was much to be done, the
casual visitor might have placed the opening a week hence rather than a few
hours. The men had unpacked boxes and wrapped furniture, while the women. Good
old fashioned dust clothes in hand, had made the chairs and tables shiny.
“Nor was this all, for the
afternoon found the same group still pegging away at the finishing touches-as
late as 3:30 o’clock with the first guest expected at 4. It was 8:30 o’clock,
in fact, when Harold Howard turned to the few who had been admitted to the big
general room and called:
‘Every one out of this room
while the floor is scrubbed.’ Every one filed out into the reception room only
to be met by another masculine voice which said: ‘Every one out of her while to
floor is scrubbed.’ Mrs. John Alden Carpenter came through bearing a bog vase
of flowers. ‘While they are scrubbing this floor we’ll all go in there,’ she
announced. ‘Can’t,’ answered Honoré Palmer;’ we’ve just been driven out of
there, too. No place to go while the floors get washed for the party.’ But there
still remained the three smaller rooms which flank the reception hall, and into
these the company scattered.
“The public has heard great deal
about the Casino club, but from this time forth it will not be told so much,
for no guests ever are to be admitted, according to present plans. Exteriorially
the club is said to resemble Anna Gould’s French ‘petty palace’ except for the
fact that the latter is in pink marble. Someday, perhaps, the walls of the
Casino are also to be pink tinted – at least so rumor says. At present the
sidewalk leading up to it is pink, but perhaps that has no bearing on the color
of the Casino.
“Within the club is not large.
It has been founded so that the society folks caring for informal afternoon
tea, cards, dancing, and kindred pleasant pastimes may have the opportunity to
gather for indulgence in one or all of these things.”
In 1920, Thomas G. Moses
wrote, “The New Year was ushered in by a very cold day. The Madam had the girls from the Bohemian
House (another settlement House where she taught sewing) out for dinner and I
am sure they enjoyed themselves.”
The “Madam” was Moses’ wife
Susan “Ella” Robbins Moses. The “Bohemian House” was actually the Bohemian
Settlement House. The Women’s Presbyterian Society established the Howell
Neighborhood House for Home Missions in 1905, also known as the Bohemian
Settlement House, located in the “Little Pilsen” neighborhood. The first
settlement house was in a small building on the corner of Nineteenth Place and
May Street. By 1912, a fund-raising drive resulted in a new building at 1831
South Center Street (now known as Racine Avenue). Since its establishment, the Bohemian
Settlement House served a community predominantly composed of Bohemians, Poles
and Czechs, offering social services and personal welfare assistance. Services expanded
over the years, and by 1914 the there was a library, English Night School, Boys
and Girls Clubs, and Sunday school.
The Bohemian House was featured in “Home Mission Monthly” in 1912 (Vol. 26, No. 5, page 125). Helen I. Duncan wrote an article entitled, “The Bohemian Settlement House:” Her is the article: “In ‘Little Pilsen,” a district with a population of 40,000 Bohemians. The former May Street Mission, which appeared in last year’s report as the Centre Avenue Mission, has again changed its name, and now appears with enlarged facilities and opportunities as the Bohemian Settlement House. In seven years the work which started with a kindergarten for children of this crowded Bohemian neighborhood has so grown and developed that it now includes all the activities usually carried on by a social settlement. These activities are supported, however, by religious backing which so few social settlements believe to be essential.
“Most interesting phases of our
educational work are the new Bohemian school for children and English school
for adults. To the Bohemian school, held twice a week, come fifty children who
want to learn to read and write the mother tongue, which they speak in their
own homes, and which is often the only language the parents can read. In
English school, as in most of our classes, no direct attempt is made to present
the religious side of our work; Protestants, Catholics and Free Thinkers are
welcomed without question. We are finding, however, that even when no words are
spoken, the Spirit of Christ is working through these classes. They are proving
a source of help and inspiration to many who can not yet acknowledge the
Christian Church. But as we win confidence and trust, our church membership too
is growing: we were glad to count fifty-four communicants at our Christmas
morning celebration of the Lord’s Supper. For the last two years all the
religious work has been under the charge of the Rev. Vaclav Vanek, a most able
and gifted Bohemian preacher.”
By 1965 the Bohemian House merged with
the Bethlehem Community Center to form the Neighborhood Service Organization. The
new charter stated the Neighborhood
Service Organization’s goal: “To be a neighbor to the neighbors in
such a way that families are strengthened, lives are made more meaningful and
purposeful and individuals see and understand the dignity and worth that is
theirs as children of God.” Over time, the demographics of the
neighborhood changed, and by the 1970s Mexican immigrants replaced many of the
Central European immigrants. The Bohemian Settlement House is still serving
immigrants, and is now known as the Casa Aztlàn. Here is some additional
information from the National Park Service about Pilsen Historic District, Cook
County, Illinois: https://www.nps.gov/nr/feature/hispanic/2010/pilsen_historic_district.htm
Also, the University of Illinois
at Chicago holds the Bethlehem Howell Neighborhood Center Collection, including
the Bohemian Settlement House. In their special collection (MSBHNC70) Here is
the link for more information: https://findingaids.library.uic.edu/sc/MSBHNC70.xml
As the year draws to a
close in the life and times of Thomas G. Moses during 1919, there is one more
event I need to mention. My grandparents, John H. Kohnen and Elvina Dressel
were married that year. After meeting at a country dance, they became engaged
to be married. However, before they began their wedded life together, my grandfather
fought overseas in WWI and my grandmother survived the Spanish Flu. I never knew
either grandparent well, as my grandmother passed when I was 1 year old and my
grandfather passed when I was seven years old. They were older than most when
they married, with my mother coming along fourteen years after that. It was the
same case with my father’s family; both he and my mother were the last of three
children, the babies born 15 and 14 year after their eldest siblings. It has
been my mother’s stories that have kept my grandparents alive for me. Attached
is their wedding picture from 1919.
The wedding of John H. Kohnen and Elvina Dressel, 1919.
On September 10, 1919, the
“El Paso Herald” announced, “El Paso Scenic Artists in Okla.” (page 13). The
article reported, “Friends of Ben F. Tipton, former scenic artist of the
Redmond Follies and Art Phillips, who spent one year in El Paso as scenic
artist of the Raymond Teal company, will be pleased to know that they have
opened a studio in Tulsa, Okla., and are doing a good business. Tipton left El
Paso about two weeks ago to join Phillips who had preceded him to Tulsa and
arranged for the opening of the studio. ‘Tip’ writes that the company at
present has more scenery than it can handle and that Tulsa at present is a live
wire town as a result of the Oklahoma oil boom.”
The Phillips Tipton Scenic
studio was credited with providing the scenery for “All Aboard” by the next
spring (Morning Tulsa Daily World, 21 April 1920, page 9).
By July 7, 1920, Oklahoma
newspapers announced the opening of another scenic studio – Southwestern Scenic
Studio. The “Daily Law Journal”
announced, “Certificate of Partnership of the Southwestern Scenic Studios…That
Chas. Cassius and Raleigh Dent, are associated as partners in the business of
furnishing theatrical scenery of all descriptions in the City of Oklahoma city,
Oklahoma County, Oklahoma, Scenic Studios; that said partnership is a general
partnership, dating from the first day of May, 1920” (page 4). Both Phillips
Tipton Scenic Studio and Southwestern Scenic Studio were relatively
short-lived, a common trait as scenic studios continued to pop up like daisies
all over the country. The abundance of firms often saturated an area, quickly
causing supply to outweigh demand and prompting the closure of new companies.
As in the 19th
century, American scenic artists followed the work. Scenic studios were
established in areas experiencing economic growth and building booms. In 1919,
the Ben Tipton cited the Oklahoma oil boom as the cause for an abundance of painting
projects. Although the oil boom began in 1897, the money was still streaming in
by 1919. Great influxes of money into the economy supported theatrical growth
and even shifted the theatrical centers throughout North America. After the
1871 Chicago fire, a period of unprecedented theatrical construction activity
drew scenic artists and other theatre technicians from all over the country to
the Windy City. By the turn of the Twentieth century a similar period of
activity in New York, especially Coney Island and coastal attractions such as
the Atlantic Boardwalk shifted the theatrical centers again. Although many
believe that the theatrical center remained in New York throughout the duration
of the 20th century (Broadway), there were a series of building booms
that drew people westward. Oil money offered ample opportunities for scenic
artists to secure work, whether it was for live theatre, public spectacles, or
residential murals in mansions of the wealthy. During the severe recession that
hit the United States in 1920 and 1921 scenic artists left the larger
metropolitan areas of the east. Sometimes labeled as a depression, western
opportunities in successful towns funded by oil money continued to support a
variety of artistic endeavors during this time.
There is something else to
consider at this time. There was also the stylistic shift in scenic art that
prompted artists to move west. As the “new art” for the stage diminished the
demand for painted illusion, film offered additional opportunities for those
experienced in romantic realism for the stage. Moses and many of his Chicago
colleagues dreamed of both living and working in California. It was not only a vibrant theatre scene, but
also an artistic hub for fine artists. Moses actively sought work in the
Oakland area, starting in 1918 when he was working for New York Studios
(Chicago branch). He became a member of the Laguna Beach Art Association (1est.
919).
Those specializing in
traditional scenic art were able to tweak their skill set, tighten their
brushwork to produce realistic film backgrounds. It is understandable that the west
coast drew and abundance of highly skilled and well-known scenic artists. Those
transitioning to work in the film industry likely had an easy choice when
examining the set designs of the modern designer. Film offered the continuation
of painting large and picturesque vistas.
Times were changing for many professional scenic artists in 1919. In addition to the rejection of painted illusion for the stage and traditional scenic art, there was an increase in amateur dramatic organizations. The Little Theatre movement was gaining ground across the country. It caused a divide between theatre practitioners, with some seeing it as an obstacle to professionals. Other declared the movement an opportunity, allowing the doors of the industry to swing wider for “courageous young producers.” Beginning around 1912, the Little Theatre Movement provided a unique outlet. I am actually going to quote two lines from Wikipedia as says it all: “The Little Theatre Movement provided experimental centers for the dramatic arts, free from the standard production mechanisms used in prominent commercial theatres. In several large cities, beginning with Chicago, Boston, Seattle and Detroit, companies formed to produce more intimate, non-commercial, non-profit-centered, and reform-minded entertainments.” Here is a link for more information about the movement: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Theatre_Movement and the Encyclopedia Britannica entry https://www.britannica.com/art/little-theatre-American-theatrical-movement.
An interesting article about Little Theatres appeared in the
April 1917 issue of “The Theatre” (Vol. 25, page 292, 314). “Mr. Belasco has recently declared, in the New York Herald that we must
“protect our drama” from “amateur dramatic organizations”….The so-called
“Little Theatres” which are springing up all over the country, not only in New
York, but in Detroit, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Milwaukee, Chicago, Philadelphia,
and other places, are amateur theatres, with their faults and weaknesses, their
failures, their fads. Their audiences, numerically, are but a drop in the
bucket. Yet they are a sign, a portent, which cannot be ignored. They are a
protest against the easy, safe professionalism which has divorced our drama
from all serious contact with problems of actual life, which has reopened the
gap which Herne, Fitch, Moody, Eugene Walter, George Ade and other seemed a few
years ago on the point of bridging; which has left the public without any
control over its esthetic expression in the playhouse. Just as soon as these
amateur efforts result in any considerable popularity and financial stability,
they will visibly and definitely begin to effect our theatre for good, and the
doors will swing wider open to the courageous young producers like John
Williams and Walker Wanger. In New York this winter we have seen “The Yellow
Jacket” established on Broadway, we have seen Stuart Walker’s amateurs playing
for a month, we have seen Gertrude Kingston come up from the East Side, we have
seen the Washington Square Players move from beyond Third Avenue into the
Comedy Theatre, and there remain. In every case something was added to our stage
which it sorely lacked, and the contribution was welcomed by a substantial
public. The way has been made easier for further experiments, for future
dramatists with something fresh to say. If Mr. Belasco honestly believes this
to be a bad thing for our theatre, if he honestly fears this sort of
competition, he has delivered the most scathing self-criticism ever written. At
any rate, the drama of to-morrow in America must be reborn out of the amateur
spirit, and the increasing number of amateurs who are giving themselves gladly
to task to-day is the most hopeful sign in our theatre.”
Little Theatres also weathered
the 1919 actors’ strike. This was mentioned at the end of an article by Uarda
McCarty in 1919. On Sept 14, 1919, McCarty wrote an article entitled “Melodrama
Again is Coming Into Own As Style Wheel of Stage Makes Circle.”
“Drama, it appears, like
all things else, must needs feel the influence of change. Style waves in the
dramatic world, sweep with as sure and effect as waves of reform, politics or
any other trend in life.
And the era for change is
apparently at hand. The movement in the drama, this season, as evidenced by the
late summer attractions, and early fall openings, seems to be more in the
nature of a reverting back to old forms than the introduction of anything new.
And the particular child of the past, which American drama has decided to
resurrect and endow as the heiress of this season’s accomplishment, is
melodrama.
‘Not any sophisticated,
full-grown child of new ideas and forms, but the good old-fashioned,
‘dyed-in-the-wool, blood-and-thunder melodrama. The kind with the old types
villain, the wronged girl, the old-fashioned trusting parents and other regalia
of melodrama of half a century or so back.’
So says Maude May Babcock, director of the Little theatre, who has
recently returned from a month in the east studying the theatrical situation.
One of the noteworthy
examples of this type is ‘John Ferguson,’ a severe tragedy set in the north
country of Ireland. It is a play with the religious element strongly
predominating – for it opens with the old father, the principle character,
sitting with an open Bible on his knees and closes with the same picture. But
withal, the play is a melodrama, for in it appears the wronged maiden, the
villainous villain and the virtuous hero.
Its popularity is attested
by the fact that it ran all during the summer months and is still booked for
Gotham presentation, at the Fulton theatre on Forty-fifth street.
Another play, forecasting
the same trend, is ‘The Challenge’ at the Selwyn theatre. Both theatres
weathered the actor’s strike, ‘John Ferguson’ the entire time and ‘The
Challenge’ for a goodly portion. ‘The Challenge’ was forced to close by a
walkout on August 16.
The reason for ‘John
Ferguson’ continuing was because the actors playing are members of the Little Theatre
guild, and organization growing out of the old Washington Square Players and
the Producing Managers’ Association, against whom the strike was called, had no
connection with the production.
One of the leading
characters of ‘John Ferguson’ is portrayed by Rollo Peters, a leading man new
to Broadway – that is, new in the art acting.”
Rollo Peters was not only
an actor and director, but also a scenic artist who embraced the new stage art.
He was also one of the individuals who benefited as the doors of the theatre industry
began to open for a younger generation of theatre artists.
I have noticed that few people enthusiastically embrace change, especially when if they already benefit from the status quo. Amateur theatrics in the United States was nothing new, but it gained momentum during the second and third decades of the twentieth century. Scenic studios had to adapt, with many firms targeting the manufacture of stock scenery for academic institutions and other non-profit venues. Our industry was teetering on the pinnacle of change. It was the convergence of Little Theatre movement, the increased construction of cinemas, and the rise of the modern stage designer that all contributed to massive aesthetic shift in scenic art. In the past, I have said that this is when scenic painting shifts from an art to a craft, and I still stand by the statement. The necessary scenic art skill set was dramatically shifting, ushering in a new era of painting. What I consider as the golden age of the American scenic artist was nearing an end.
In a world of limited travel and social distancing, I find myself revisiting favorite locations with my brush; painting is a means of escape for me. My previous series “Quarantine Travels” helped me weather the first wave of COVID 19 from April 28-June 19, 2020.
Here is a new series about Colorado that will hopefully do the same as numbers continue to increase across the country. I will post each completed painting in the series to this page.
This series of thirty-five paintings was completed on February 21, 2021.
Colors of Colorado: The Drive to Leadville. White River National Forest, Silverthorne, Colorado. 9” x 12” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Busk Creek near Leadville, Colorado. 10″ x 14″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.SOLD– Colors of Colorado: Our drive to Independence Pass (Continental Divide) near the ghost town of Independence. 9″ x 12″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Our drive to Independence Pass (Continental Divide) near the ghost town of Independence. 9″ x 12″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: The Ghost Town of Independence. 9″ x 12″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: The Ghost Town of Independence in Colorado. 9″ x 12″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: The Drive to Leadville. White River National Forest, Silverthorne, Colorado. 9” x 12” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: The Ghost Town of Independence in Colorado. 9″ x 12″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Twin Lakes in San Isabel National Forest. 9″ x 12″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Busk Creek near Leadville, Colorado. 9″ x 12″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Buffalo near Gardner, Colorado. 9″ x 12″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: The Summit of Independence Pass. Continental Divide. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Frisco Bay, Dillion Reservoir Recreation Area. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Frisco Bay, Dillion Reservoir Recreation Area. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Frisco Bay, Dillion Reservoir Recreation Area. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: The Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, ca. 1881. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, ca. 1879- 1881. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett. I am exploring what the interior of the opera house looked like from 1879 to 1901. In 1902 the building was purchased and renovated by the Elks, enlarging the stage house and purchasing all new scenery. There is one photograph that shows the 1879 proscenium opening with an interior setting. One of the earliest settings for the venue also included drop curtain of Royal Gorge. Colors of Colorado: Rocky Pass Scene for the Stage. Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, ca. 1879- 1881. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett. I am exploring what the interior of the opera house looked like from 1879 to 1901. This stage setting was a composition with two shutters. In 1902 the building was purchased and renovated by the Elks, enlarging the stage house and purchasing all new scenery, including a new Rocky Pass backdrop.Colors of Colorado: Horizon Scene for the Stage. Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, ca. 1879- 1881. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett. I am exploring what the interior of the opera house looked like from 1879 to 1901. This stage setting was a composition with two shutters. In 1902 the building was purchased and renovated by the Elks, enlarging the stage house and purchasing all new scenery, including a new Horizon backdrop.Colors of Colorado: Street Scene for the Stage. Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, ca. 1879- 1881. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett. I am exploring what the interior of the opera house looked like from 1879 to 1901. This stage setting was a composition with two shutters. In 1902 the building was purchased and renovated by the Elks, enlarging the stage house and purchasing all new scenery, including a new Street Scene backdrop.Colors of Colorado: Rustic Scene for the Stage. Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado, ca. 1888. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett. I am exploring what the interior of the opera house looked like from 1879 to 1901. This stage setting composed by sliding two shutters together to form a stage backing. In 1902 the building was purchased and renovated by the Elks, enlarging the stage house and purchasing all new scenery, including a new rustic backdrop.Colors of Colorado: Independence Pass in June. Continental Divide. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: North Fork Lake Creek between Leadville and Aspen. 8″ x 10″ acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Independence Pass in September. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Twin Lakes in Fall. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Roaring Fork River in Fall. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Fall Independence. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: The Road to Independence Pass. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: The Arkansas River in Fall. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Near the Ghost Town of Independence. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Independence Pass. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Independence Pass. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Independence Pass. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Twin Lakes. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.Colors of Colorado: Morning near Turquoise Lake. 5” x 7” acrylic painting by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett.
Here is a link to my previous series “Quarantine Travels” –
On June 14, 1919, the “Brooklyn
Citizen” reported that six well-known scenic artists were engaged at the
Metropolitan Opera for the coming season – Boris Anisfelt, Joseph Urban, Norman
Bell-Geddes, James Fox, Willy Pogany and Pieretto Bianco (page 10).
Two weeks earlier, Norman
Bell-Geddes was quoted as saying, “The painted scenery is the material, the
lighting is the spirit” (New York Tribune, June 1, 1919, page 37). It was now light
that gave spirit to the scene, no longer the skill of the scenic artist. This
is one of the moments highlighted in many theatre history books, a professed pinnacle
moment in American theatre. It signals a departure from the past and the continued
evolution of theatre based on a chronological depiction of historical events. What
it replaced is often dismissed; there may be only a paragraph or two written
about the prior century of American popular entertainment. The painted illusion
produced by generations of scenic artists is abandoned for the new stage art.
This is a significant moment, especially if we contemplate what was lost.
Norman Bell-Geddes
By 1919, Thomas G. Moses
(1856-1934) was sixty-two years old. He had been a scenic artist for over 45
years and founded three scenic studios.
In addition to working as his own boss, Moses had also worked for
Chicago Studios, New York Studios, and at Sosman & Landis. At Sosman &
Landis, he had transitioned from vice-president to president by 1915, first
starting with the company in 1880.
Now imagine, you are an extremely skilled and a well-known artist picking up a newspaper. You are reading about the up-and-coming generation of scenic artists. By this point you have trained at least three new generations of artists, possibly four. Many of your one-time paint boys are leading designers in the field. The article that you are reading signals the ending of your era and the demand for a new art form with a new set of scenic skills. You are now lumped in with the “past,” and this past needs to be completely destroyed for the new generation and new art to proceed. The older generation of scenic artists, like Moses, were part of the “establishment,” moreover part of the “problem.” Unlike the generation before you, whose passing was lamented and the skills of the artists fondly recalled, everything that you worked for is now a target. The American theatre industry splintered into factions, with one segment denouncing the significance of another. We no longer lifted each other up, supplementing established skill sets with new technology. Instead, we promoted new art forms by destroying the past, as well as anything perceived as accepted or traditional. This attitude helped usher out the romantic realism on the stage and use of painted illusion, severing connections to the past. It is a fascinating time and one where the new artists explain, ‘If managers would only realize that it is not necessary to spend such large sums on scenery.” This statement took shot at the scenic studios, such as Sosman & Landis. This statement threatened the living wages earned by those who spent decades perfecting their skills.
On June 1, 1919, an
article in the “New York Tribune” describes the “new art” in glowing terms and
as breaking through the “barbed wire of inertia and stupidity, which always
blocks the way of any innovator.” The article continued to explain that young
scenic artists are leaping the “trenches of opposition and safely passing
through the barrage of ridicule” (page 37). They are labeled the “soldiers of
the new art,” and all were “native born Americans.”
The article headline
stated, “Mr. Bell-Geddes and Others. The Young American Scene Painter Arrives –
Present Activity of the Younger Generation Made Possible by Work of Urban and
Anisfeld.” The article provides great
historical context for Moses’ career in the 1920s, as he continues to encounter
ever-increasing obstacles and the demand for painted scenery diminishes.
Here is the article in its
entirety:
“Our singers and actors
may not equal those of our past, our composers and dramatists may lack
inspiration and vitality, but at least we have our scene painters. In the
establishment of a national school of opera or drama this may be beginning hind
end foremost, but some beginning is better than none at all. The Metropolitan
Opera House, so long the abode of extreme conservatism, has of late years even
been taking the lead in the encouragement of what is new in the art of the
scenic artist. It has given us Urban, and Paquerau, and Pogany, and Boris
Anisfeld, and though we still have the glittering gullibilities of Mario Sala,
of Milan, Metropolitan audiences no longer believe that this painter’s ‘Aida’
is a masterpiece of scenic investiture. Whatever may have happened to our ears,
our eyes have been opened.
It undoubtedly is Josef
Urban to whom we owe managerial recognition of the new art. He broke through
the barbed wire of inertia and studpidity which always blocks the way of the
innovator, leaped the trenches of opposition, and passed safely through the
barrage of ridicule. Behind him came the others, younger men all, who dug in
and held their positions, where at last reports they were considering the offer
of an armistice. And happy we may be to realize that the youngest of these
soldiers of the new art are native born Americans. Robert Edmond Jones, Rollo
Peters and Norman Bell-Geddes, Granville parker, Arthur Hopkins and the Russian
Ballet have acquainted us with Mr. Jones’s work. Mr. Peters has painted sets
for Mrs. Fiske, for Henry Miller, and now for the Theatre Guild; Mr.
Bell-Geddes last season made fifteen Broadway theatre productions and one for
the Metropolitan. It is indeed these young artists who offer what is most vital
and significant in the American theatre to-day. Before them our actors and our
playwrights and our composers ought to hang their heads; they have technique,
but they also have courage and ideals. In short, they are real. When our
Broadway playwright begins to talk of the drama our yawns are uncontrollable;
when our actors, though here we will make a few blessed exceptions, speak of
acting, we remember we have an engagement at the dentist’s; but when our young
scene painters discuss scene painting we sit down and listen.
The career of Mr.
Bell-Geddes is of interest in this connection. It shows how these young men
originally were enthusiastic amateurs, whose interest gradually deepened until
they virtually were forced into the theatre. Mr. Geddes, whose painting of the
scenery of ‘Legend’ at the Metropolitan at once brought him into prominence,
was born in Detroit, and attended for a very short while art schools in
Cleveland and Chicago. He then took up the portrait painting and magazine
illustrating, in which work he was exceedingly successful. At that time,
however, he also wrote a play, but, finding it of a type unsuited to the
average theatre stage, her determined to make a study of the theatre. In
furtherance of this plan, he obtained access to the stage of one of the Detroit
theatre, where he studied all that went on, and where he studied all that went
on, and where he helped the stage hands and electricians. He also constructed
in his studio a stage of his own, on which he made experiments in all sorts of
appliances, especially in the matter of lighting. After leaving Detroit he
lived for two years in Los Angeles, where he designed the scenery for a stock
company and further improved his knowledge of practical stage conditions. His
first work in the East was in designing the last act set of ‘Shanewis’ at the
Metropolitan Opera House, after which the Broadway managers seized upon him. It
is only in his set of ‘The Legend’,’ however, that New York has as yet allowed
him even to moderately full sway, but in the coming production at the
Metropolitan of Henry Hadley’s new opera, ‘Cleopatra’s Night,’ he hopes to show
Metropolitan audiences what he is capable of accomplishing. Meanwhile he has
finished designs for settings of ‘Pelléas et Mélisande’ and of ‘King Lear,’ and
is about to set to work on another play. It is these settings and those which
he made for a stock company in Milwaukee last summer, of which he and Robert
Edmond Jones were directors, which he hopes will be considered his, rather than
the work he has done for Broadway managers.
‘We young chaps ought to
be tremendously grateful to such men as Josef Urban and Boris Anisfeld,’ said
Mr. Geddes recently. ‘These men with world-wide reputations have opened the
door through which we youngsters, who are in the developing stage, can pass.
Without them, our enthusiasm and whatever merit we may express probably would
have been powerless to break down the innate conservativism of the average
American manager. But those men have opened the eyes both of the public and of
the managers, and so we now are able to get an opportunity of being seen. Of
course, we often have to compromise, and of course the average Broadway show
gives little scope for imagination, but, at least, we get in our hand.’
Mr. Geddes believes that
lighting counts for more than painting in the modern history.
‘The painted scenery is
the material, the lighting is the spirit,’ is the way he puts it. ‘There is no
need of modern scenery being so horribly expensive. With proper lighting it is
possible to do almost anything, the only trouble being that the lights are no
only arranged scientifically in most of our theatres. With a triad of any color
or combination of colors can be obtained and extraordinary effects in
intensifying the mood can be produced be merely intensifying the lights.
‘The science of color is
definite, yet the average stage manager knows nothing of it, save in the barest
outline in Europe Adolph Appia has perhaps gone further in this respect that
any other manager, though Reinhardt has absorbed and applied the ideas of
others. Gordon Craig was of use as a path breaker, but he writes and talks
rather than carries out his ideas. In America Belasco makes the height of the
old idea, and because of his thoroughness and care he deserves high credit.
Arthur Hopkins has been extraordinarily open to the new art and other managers,
and, of course, Signor Gatti-Casazza, are showing increasing interest in it
all.
‘If managers would only
realize that it is not necessary to spend such large sums on scenery., the new
ideas would travel more quickly even then at present. Let me give an instance;
Edward Sheldon’s ‘Garden of Paradise,’ was only given several years ago at the
Century Theatre with scenery costing $54,000. The play was a failure. Last
summer we gave it is Milwaukee with the cheapest sort of scenery and yet, by
the use of proper lighting the settings were of a beauty, which, I believe, was
equal to the Urban sets at the Century. Moreover, our production was the
greatest success of what lighting can do. The scene in the foyer with the
Trilby singing in the theatre was accomplished by the simplest means, yet we
produced the atmosphere and by a gradual intensifying f the lights brought the
mood to such a vibrancy that the audience went wild.
‘I firmly believe that the
proscenium arch destroys much of the illusion of reality and have patented
plans for a theatre in which the present stage is replaced by a dome within
which sets may be placed and lowered into the basement, where they are run off
on a truck and another set immediately raised into its place. There is no
curtain, the scenes being totally obliterated by the use of lights. Moreover,
in this theatre I have produced three auditoriums, the largest of which seats
three hundred people more than the Century Theatre without the use of a
gallery, while the seat furthest in the van is the same distance from the stage
as the last row if the Metropolitan Opera House. In this theatre each row of
seats is an aisle, the auditorium entering and leaving parallel to the stage.
Indeed, the theatre has illimitable possibilities of improvement. Managers are
naturally conservative, but once they see the practicability of new ideas they
will adopt them. It simply takes time to make them see it.’
This tonic note of
restrained optimism is what the American theatre, be it dramatic or operatic,
sorely needs. Our young scenic artists are furnishing it. If only our
playwrights and our actors – well, our own Mr. Brown has referred to our ‘Ostermoor
school of drama.’ In opera we have had the ‘Pipe of Desire,’ ‘The Canternury
Pilgrims,’ ‘The Legend,’ and ‘The Temple Dancer,’ if only our composers – well,
as least we have our singers.”
