We all struggle on a daily basis, and yet overcome many obstacles that seem insurmountable at the time. However, there are also those moments when we don’t persevere, the ones that mark our soul. For me, writing this blog provides daily solace during challenging times. I am able to escape into the past and share challenges faced by others. Somehow, telling their stories brings peace to my own.
It is especially comforting for me when voices from the past share fears of the present. Ninety-nine years ago, scenic artist Thomas G. Moses (1856-1934) wrote a passage that is applicable for many today.
In 1923 he wrote, “While I realize what one short year will do for one’s business, I cannot help having a chill from what has happened to us all during that time. When I look forward and wonder what is apt to happen, I try to be optimistic and see nothing but silver lining and feel that the turning point has been passed and the road is cleared, and the travel will be comparatively easy.”
It has been three decades since I first created an index for the 1931 typed memoirs and scrapbook of Thomas G. Moses. At the time, I promised myself I would track down every little bit of information recorded in its pages. Five years ago, I began to explore each entry, and track down every project, event and personality mentioned by Moses in his writing. I am now at the end of 1922. Moses passed away in 1934, so there are still eleven more years to go. These will be the most difficult period to write about, as Moses begins to lose hope that the world of scenic art will ever return to the old ways. At the end of 1922, Moses wrote a particularly eloquent passage, reflecting on his life and the times; one that provides a glimpse into his soul.
Thomas G. Moses
It is long entry, but I am leaving it in its entirety:
“This year has not been a record breaker in any one particular. Nothing very startling. After leaving the west I seemed to let down and lose all ambition to do anything. I have not been able to paint any pictures. Now that I have rolled up another year’s record, I feel in a reminiscent mood, and as I have accomplished one of my desires, the writing of my life’s journey to date, which I sincerely hope will be interest to someone. I will dwell on the last interesting incidents and wonderful inventions of 1800 and the beginning of 1900.
While I have done nothing to assist in the making of history, even in a small way, I feel that I have been very fortunate to have lived in the two centuries, which have been a wonderful advancement in Art, Science, Music and Literature. It seems but a few years ago when we were making dipped candles, and now it is an easy matter to turn on a switch, as we have wonderful electric light. Darius Green jumped from the roof on his father’s barn with a common umbrella as a parachute, and now he could have a wonderful time in an air-ship, which did so much good in our late World’s War. From the clumsy high wheel velocipede to our highspeed motorcycle and the highpower automobile. From Jules Verne’s story of “The Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea” to the real submarine gunboat, that accomplished more than Jules Verne ever dreamt of. From the wood burning locomotives to the hundred-ton engine that will pull the heavy train of loaded freight cars up the steep mountain grades. The old wooden battleships of the rebellion days to the enormous dread-naughts.
From the three-story brick building of 1860 to the modern skyscrapers of twenty and forty-five stories buildings, constructed of steel and fireproof hollow tile, marble and glass. The improvements in the Merchant’s Marine service have been a great expense to the government during the late war, but it has shown the wonderful strides that has been made from the full rigged ships to the steamers of today. The inventors of the past sixty years have given the world more wonderful inventions than any other period. Those that stand out in the limelight are the electric lights, talking machines, telephones, the wireless radio, all descriptions of flying machines, submarines and thousand and one others too numerous to mention.
I am ashamed to say that I have not made any decided approach towards the “Hall of Fame” while I have worked hard all my life, and have accomplished a little, and have had a little glory and honor thrust upon me, but not enough to entitle me to a laurel wreath. 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.
In a way, the art of scenic painting has progressed to a higher plane and has been taken up by a number of so-called designers or scenic decorators who have knowledge of the technical part of the art, but simply design and call the artist to carry the design for the completed product. We that paint, as well as design, frown upon the new fad for fabrics. We trust it will soon die out and we will all return to the old way of painting with up-to-date designs. In my youth, I planned and hoped to reach several goals on the road to Fame – they all seemed so far ahead after my years of hard work. I have passed them and in looking back, I realize they were not so hard and that I had picked out some easy ones. But now at sixty-six years of age, I find the big goal is still far ahead, it is the missing link between Mediocrity and Greatness. As I was not endowed with a wonderful amount of ability, it has been a struggle to secure a foothold in the art world. I derive a great deal of pleasure from the mere fact that I am able to draw at all and paint, and have given my impression of the woods, mountains and the restless sea. My art life is behind me, but the flickering light of hope is still in sight and I will strive to reach it while I breath, I hope. Many times, I have nearly given up when something worthwhile has presented itself, which gave me a new lease on life.
I have many artist friends who only need the missing link to reach the apex and place the magic letters “N.A.” to their signatures. They have nearly arrived; so close that it is really pathetic that the Great Honor does not reach them over night, to be followed by a life of success in the art world, which is truly an ideal existence.
I often think of Edward Bellany’s book called “Looking Backward,” as I do a lot of looking backward. There are so many incidents that occurred in the past that will spur me on to better ideas and correct future plans. Many of us are very much criticized when we get to reminiscing, and we are politely requested to come out of it and get our feet on the ground. I have met but very few men or women of sixty years of age or more who are strongly inclined to look backward and exclaim, “it might have been” and live it over again, as to many the past is a sweet story. “The good old days” you will hear them exclaim, as they were back in the “Old Home Town.” No matter how well they have prospered since leaving their old home, there is always that home love that is uppermost in their minds. To the men, the thoughts of the old swimming hole the orchards and vineyards, that all belonged to the small boy. A few have remained behind and continued a business that was started by their father and possibly by their grandfather. I am drifting back to the days when some of the present-day successful artists were working for me and Burridge and we were together and we had Jules Guering with us. He had climbed to the top, within a few years, he was well equipped with money to start and a lot of ability. He has made his home in New York for the past twenty years.
In 1893 Harry A. Vincent applied to me for a position. I tried to convince him that he was foolish to break into a business that had a future only in hard work. He succeeded and has become one of the cleverest landscape painters in America. He went to New York in 1898 and worked for Gates and Morange, then joined the Salmagundi Club. Captured several prizes which boosted him in the art world. Many of his pictures are being reproduced and selling well. He is now in Italy on a sketching trip.
Frank Peyraud, now celebrated as a landscape painter, was with me in 1893. Victor Higgins, now in Taos, New Mexico, another of our boys. Edgar Payne, now in France, was with us only a few years ago. John H. Young was another assistant that made good in scenic painting, but never stuck to the picture end of it as he started to make money in New York and that settled his picture ambitions (if he ever had them very strong). As I look backward over the names of the successful ones, I wonder what I would have done had I been gifted with the same amount of talent.
So it goes on, year after year, and you keep just a little bit ahead of the game, just enough to convince your friends that you are really a good fellow and that you haven’t abused their confidence.
But you are bound to look backwards and wish for the “Land of Beginning Again”: I wish that there were some wonderful place,Called the “Land of Beginning Again”Where all our mistakes and our heartachesAnd all of our poor, selfish grief,Could be dropped like a shabby old coat at the doorAnd never put on again. To be continued…
“The Land of Beginning Again” was also turned into a song, sung by Bing Crosby in “The Bells of St. Mary’s” (1945) – one of my favorites – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99I0yVxVukQ
I return to the life and times of Thomas G. Moses in 1921.
That spring Moses and his wife Ella journeyed south for nine weeks. The primary
reason was work; Mitchell and Halbach hired Moses to decorate the Majestic
Theatre in Dallas. Other projects included scenery for the Dallas Shrine and an
upcoming design for the Little Rock Scottish Rite.
Moses later wrote, “On our return home we stopped in Kansas
City for a day, and a day in St. Louis, after an absence of nine weeks. I could sit down for only a day before I was off
to Fort Wayne for a contract for a vaudeville act, which we got.”
Postcard of the Fort Wayne Depot
A constant stream of activity defined Moses’ career was often
characteristic of late-nineteenth-century and early-twentieth-century scenic
artists. Even those who represented a particular studio were often on the go,
as many projects still occurred on site.
As I track the travels of these artists I am astounded by the time spent
on the road. By 1921, Moses was working
for Sosman & Landis again, on annual contract. In 1918 he resigned as
president of the firm and sought other opportunities at New York Studios and
the Chicago Studios. He had previously
left the firm a few times before, always returning home to Chicago and the main
studio on Clinton Street.
In regard to Moses’ 1921 diary entry, he noted stopping by
Kansas City and St. Louis. This was
standard, as he kept close contact with fellow scenic artists, both friends and
competitors. For years, Moses stopped by the Noxon and Toomey Studio to visit
his good friend Patrick J. Toomey. Likewise,
there were several artists that Moses remained close to at the Kansas City
Scenic Co. The scenic art network was
essential during times of plenty, as one studio would draw on the resources of
another. For example, Kansas City Scenic
subcontracted Sosman & Landis in 1902 to deliver a large scenery installation
to the Elks Opera House (previously Tabor Opera House) in Leadville, Colorado.
The is when the past and present intersect. For the past
four years I have traced a network of scenic artists from 1870-1930, based upon
individual entries in the 1931 memoirs of Thomas G. Moses. I am daily astounded
at the scope of work produced by Moses during his career, 1873-1934. Until the
past twelve days, I have dutifully written 1 ½ pages each day about Moses’
life, work and colleagues. When I have
been on the road, I often transition from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar”
to “Travels of a Scenic Artist and Scholar,” describing a specific historic theatre
or scenery collection. From Sept. 20-27, 2020, I was in Leadville, Colorado, documenting a
historic scenery collection that was stored in the Tabor Opera House over a
century ago. The collection was primarily composed of historic pieces from
1879-1890, once used on the original stage before the Leadville Elks (BPOE) purchased
the building and renovated the stage. Upon returning to my office in Minnesota,
there would still be a month’s worth of research and writing to compile historical
analyses, conditions reports, replacement appraisals, and a collections care
and management program.
I posted many of my Colorado discoveries, with the intention
of returning to the Thomas G. Moses timeline on September 30 when I returned
home. Within two hours of my arrival in
Minnesota, we received a call from our eldest child about a medical emergency. By the next morning I was on the road again,
hoping to offer support while awaiting test results; we are still waiting for a
definitive diagnosis. On my 4+ hour drive, I planned for the worse and hoped for
the best. In the midst of everything, I was also planning the 14th
birthday celebration for our youngest child; I had scheduled my Colorado trip
to return with ample time to prepare for the event.
This brings me back to Moses’ mention of Fort Wayne in 1921.
This morning I decided that it was time to return to my blog; without writing
every spare moment I feel like a rutterless ship. Recognizing that I would likely never be able
to locate the specific show in Fort Wayne, I decided to search for a mention of
“Sosman & Landis” in Fort Wayne newspapers. Casting my net wide, they was a
mentioned in 1884, just as Landis & Sosman. The firm was competing for the
Masonic Temple scenery work, submitting a bid alongside Noxon, Halley &
Toomey, St. Louis; Kover & Sons, Cincinnati; and Moses & Co.,
Kalamazoo. The Moses & Co. is Thomas
G. Moses and Lemuel L. Graham; Graham being the future founder of Kansas City
Scenic Co. The irony is that I have been “living” in 1884 for the past two
weeks. While waiting for test results, I decided to start doing some
preliminary research on the Tabor Opera House attic scenery colleciton, tracing
down two artists and exploring their careers during the early 1880s. Keep in
mind that the original scenery for the Tabor Opera House was delivered in 1879,
with additional pieces being delivered in 1888 and 1890. In the meantime, the
Tabor Grand Opera House was constructed in Denver. Both H. E. Burkey and Henry
C. Tryon were associated with the venue; Burkey was also listed as a scenic
artist for the Tabor Opera House in Leadville.
As I traced the lives and careers of various Tabor Opera House artists,
Tryon kept popping back onto my radar; he and Burckey partnered for other projects
during this time too.
I have written about Tryon in the past, as he and Thomas G.
Moses not only worked together at Sosman & Landis, but also went on a
sketching trip to West Virginia in the 1880s. This brings me back to 1884, just
after Tryon painted scenery for the Salt Lake Theatre; at the time he was
listed as Henry C. Tabor, scenic artist of the Tabor Opera House, Denver. Between
1880 and 1884 Tryon published several lengthy articles on scenic art; I just transcribed
one from 1884 yesterday. It is one of the most comprehensive writings about the
trade and scenic art process, identified by region, that I have come across to
date. Last night, I was trying to figure out when to add this bit of
information into my blog. It seems that tomorrow is an appropriate time.
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.
I am taking stock today as it is my 51st birthday. Each year, I reflect upon my life, accomplishments and, most of all, past regrets. My biggest regret is not being a better advocate in the continued battle for civil rights.
My mother was the first person who made history come alive for me. She was just a few credits shy of getting her doctorate at the University of Minnesota when life and work interfered with further academic intentions. In the 1950s, she took every history class that the university offered and graduated top of her class. She taught history and social studies classes at local schools, even developing the Brooklyn Center curriculum. She also majored in math and is a phenomenal mathematician, but that is a separate story. I was fortunate to have someone, a personal tutor in a way, who provided deeper insight into historical events and made me want to learn more.
The schools that I attended (Forest Elementary, Hosterman Junior High, and Robbinsdale-Cooper High School) were fantastic; well-funded public schools in an inner ring suburb – District 281. However, there was not a lot of diversity. We may have been ten miles from downtown Minneapolis, but my classrooms were primarily filled white middle-class kids.
African American studies were a subset of American History. That is telling in itself, as it removes the history of slavery, placing it in a neat little envelope apart from the American history storyline of our great founding fathers. My classes covered the history and evils of slavery, but pretty much ended with the emancipation proclamation. Little else was said after that; a short note on Jim Crow laws and the civil rights movement. However, the civil rights movement, Korea, and Vietnam were never really explored in full, it was more of an overview.
It was not until college that I realized the massive gaps in my history education. After completing a course on Native American Studies, I was astounded at how little I knew beyond a few basic historical mile markers. Unfortunately for me, I never took any African American studies classes in college while I completed a BA, MA and PhD. This meant that the sum of my understanding about African American history was high school classes.
I had never heard about Juneteenth until this year. Feeling quite stupid, I asked my husband if he had ever heard of Juneteenth. He attended a very diverse public-school system in Delaware and also holds a doctorate. Like me, Juneteenth was something new to him. And then I asked my mom if she had ever heard of Juneteenth. No, she had not.
To put this in context, my mother and I are both historians. We each have a track record of academic excellence that resulted in various awards, membership in Phi Beta Kappa, and careers that focused on some type of American history. On a daily basis we continue to read and research about historic events online. As two progressives, white, and highly educated women, we should be the ones aware of Juneteenth; yet we did not.
For me, this explains a lot about the racial divide in America. If you are white, chances are you have not been adequately taught about the history of the African American community, Native Americans, or any other minority. If you are white, it may be easy to dismiss racial tensions, as you are completely unaware of the current obstacles that any person of color continues to face today. Your knowledge of American history is likely lacking. Then there are regional differences too, whether you learned history in the northern or southern United States. Was it the War of Northern Aggression or the Civil War? Same outcome, but different perspectives of the war, slavery and the future.
I am going to add on one more layer of institutionalized racism. As I was looking for a potential college scholarships and meeting with counselors in high school, the seeds of racism were further sowed in the back of my mind. This was the same for my husband in Delaware. We were both told that because we were white, our options were limited. This is in 1987. Both of our counselors went on to point out that if we were a black male or black female, we would have many more scholarship options; we just were part of the wrong demographic. In my white, lower-middle-class home, I was taught to not judge individuals on their race or religion. Yet, my counselor’s statement immediately made me resent those who were of color, because they were offered better scholarships. I put myself through college, paid my bills, and eventually received a few scholarships from the theatre department at the University of Minnesota. I survived, and continued on to graduate school. Now imagine if I were raised in a racist home and could not afford college, never went to college; scholarships were not an option.
This may be one of the many reasons why so many white Americans consider themselves oppressed and believe that minority groups are stealing their opportunities. You’ve got to be carefully taught.
“History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived; but if faced with courage, need not be lived again.”-Maya Angelou
There was a book that I purchased few years back, a compilation of newspaper
articles in an obscure out-of-print publication. I quickly scanned the book and
stopped midway, for no particular reason, and started reading. One chapter was dedicated to a story published
in a foreign newspaper. It described a murder committed on an American stage. I
honestly can’t remember whether it was a Parisian publication or an English one. As I read the article, I became physically
ill. The same thing happened this week as
I watched video of George Floyd’s murder in Minneapolis.
The 1911 newspaper story had to do with a young black man randomly selected
for a public execution. Tickets were sold to take a shot as he was tied to a
post and positioned center stage.
I could not unimagine the historic stage scene and had nightmares for
weeks. Every once in a while, it still pops up, a dark shadow in the recess of
my mind. For the past few days, I have tried to locate the book without success.
I began looking on the internet last night while watching footage of the
Minneapolis protests. Looking for this
single incident in a legacy of a white entitlement that allows the public murder
of unarmed black men seemed almost impossible. How do you narrow down one
killing when hundreds of thousands have occurred over the years?
I eventually found it; here is one article published in a Canadian newspaper,
as it is the most informative:
“Livermore, Ky., April 21. – Will Potter, a negro, last night was dragged
to the opera house stage, tied to a post, and riddled with bullets by fifty men.
He had shot and killed Frank Mitchell, 22 years of age in a quarrel. The mob
gathered in the orchestra pit of the theatre and took seats. A signal was given
and the body was riddled with bullets by men in the auditorium” (“Ottawa
Journal” on April 21, 1911, page 1). Kentucky newspapers referred to this incident
as a “lynching” and justified the event in various recounts. Some articles noted that Mitchell was injured,
and others noted that he was killed; it was whatever white people reported to
the newspaper in that particular town.
Not a single day goes by that I do not encounter a description
in some historic newspaper about the murder of black man. The number and
consistency are staggering. A description of the event is often placed in a
section next to entertainment, seldom on the first page. These men were charged
with attempted theft, assault, vandalism, rape, or some other crime, often not
committed, or the crime substantiated. The articles always justify the reason for
torture, hanging, shooting, strangling or other means of execution at the hands
of local white citizens. Frequently these victims were dragged from their homes,
dragged from jail cells, or randomly rounded up on the street. For further
reading, here is an article on lynching in America – https://lynchinginamerica.eji.org/report/
and the “Jim Crow Era: A Solemn Roll Call of Those Brutally Murdered” – https://www.kingscountypolitics.com/the-jim-crow-era-a-solemn-roll-call-of-those-brutally-murdered/
To not admit that these past actions have not informed the
current atrocities is sheer ignorance; it is a carefully constructed system of
oppression for people of color that is alive and well.
In regard to the 1911 murder, the NAACP condemned the murder and
sent letters to President Taft, the Congress, and Gov. Wilson of Kentucky. Warrants
were issued for eighteen of the “lynchers.” Three leaders were separately
indicted and tried for murder, but soon acquitted. The same thing has continued
to occur over the decades, all over the country.
It is hard not to recall every incident of racism that I have encountered over
the years, read about in the newspapers, or watched on television. I encounter
racists all the time and feel helpless. When we elected President Obama, I
thought that America may have finally turned the corner; I was wrong, and it
was a call to action for racists.
I primarily work with, and for, middle-aged to elderly white men throughout
the country. Although the terminology slightly varies from region to region, I
have heard a plethora of derogatory terms for people of different races and
religions. Simultaneously, the older white men also complain about being the
new “minority” and a “victim,” they described nationwide persecution and
oppression of white men. They have no concept of systematic racism in America nor
the shameful legacy of slavery that did not end with the Civil War. I will not
even begin to get into the gender debate with these same men. Whether I spoke
up or not, I have listened to friends and family go on ad nauseum, making their
judgements about those who are different. Racism runs deeply in American and
has no intention of leaving soon. Children have been carefully taught to fear
and hate people who are different, especially in Minnesota.
When those in power, such as an American president, give racists a voice, they
enable the behavior of white supremacists in any profession. I am angry, and
you should be too. This has to stop.
I reach a milestone today – post
1000. When I first starting writing “Tales of a Scenic Artist and Scholar,” I
never thought that it would go beyond 100 installments, and I would return to writing
posts about painting techniques and materials.
Over a year ago I explained the
reason why I write daily about the life and times of Thomas G. Moses. I am reposting
it today.
Part 600: Why Do I Write?”
There is so much more information to discover online than a
decade ago. I can quickly scan thousands of newspapers with keyword searches,
gathering information about a late-nineteenth century scenery installations and
Scottish Rite degree productions. My trips to the rare books room are almost
non-existent, as I am able to access a ridiculous amount of information in a
relatively short period of time. While preparing for my posts, I dig through
old photos, slides and research files from my predecessors, digital
collections, online archives, historical newspapers, and other public
databases. It takes time though.
Why do I take time every day to blog about the life and
times of Thomas G. Moses? I made a commitment to myself in September 2016 to
share my discoveries, while providing me with both incentive and inspiration to
continue. When my position as Curatorial
Director at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center was eliminated, I encountered
a unique form of character assassination. It was an extremely difficult time as
I went through the varying stages of grief. Much of the passion that I had for
Minnesota Masonry simply died, and I had to shift my focus elsewhere.
In the middle of a particularly low point, I made a decision
about my future. I decided to take the high road, ignore the continued attacks,
and make a positive contribution. I
decided to share all of the information that I had gathered over the years in a
public forum, one that would benefit both theatre and fraternal communities; to
increase the awareness of historic scenery as cultural artifact; to change the
perception of historic scenery from old stage backings to large-scale artworks
created by nationally recognized artists; and to broadcast the need for proper
handling and preservation of extant scenery collections. I decided to start
writing – a lot.
Writing one or two pages for a daily blog makes me
re-evaluate preconceived notions and accepted theories, ranging from painting
techniques to basic theater history. I
try to catch things that I may have missed in the past. Hopefully, my journey
will never be about being right, but about getting it right. I also gather more
information than I need, as I never know if a historic scenery collection will
still be hanging upon my return. Scenery and stage machinery hold telltale
signs for the common practices associated with early-twentieth century scenic
studios and artists. Each scenic studio had something akin to a signature. They
all had a specific way of doing things, whether in the sewing room, carpentry
shop, paint studio, or during an installation.
The width of cotton sheeting, the direction of seams on a backdrop, the
shape of a wooden batten, the type of stage hardware, the color used to ink a
composition, and the preferred fabric manufacturer are only a few examples.
It may be the next generation who pieces together my research; a primary reason that I am digitizing and posting as much as possible. Ideally, some artist, historian or scholar may be able to see the connections that I cannot at this time. I may simply be planting seeds for those that come after me. If I am able to help another along the way, that would be the best feeling of all, because then I become part of something much bigger than myself.
This is a long and contemplative post, so my apologies in
advance. Quarantine is providing me with a little too much time to think, hence
why I am painting so much; it silences the internal dialogue.
In 1918, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “Pitt and Stella dropped in
on us from Trenton on my 62nd birthday on the 21st, and
we all enjoyed their surprise and their visit.” Pitt was Moses’ eldest son who
lived in New Jersey. Today, Moses may be considered three years away from retirement.
In 1918, he was mid-career with no retirement in sight. What were the physical
barriers of a scenic artist working in the early-twentieth century versus now?
There are a few things to consider about the careers of
scenic artists during the early twentieth century. The first is that they were
not working on the floor, most painted on a vertical frame, one that moved up
and down. Aged scenic artists didn’t have to crawl around on the floor to tack
down a drop, or bend over to paint some little detail. They did not spend a
lifetime having to suddenly drop to the floor or kneel for extended periods of
time.
Thomas G. Moses working at Less Lash Studios in New York, ca. 1910.
How long could scenic artists work during the
late-nineteenth and early twentieth century? Until death. If you don’t have to
kneel down, and the painting was at a comfortable height, why stop working? With
no social security net, stopping work at any point might not be an option. Take
away the physical obstacles and you could paint as long as your mind stayed
sharp.
It’s pretty simple if you deconstruct the early-twentieth
century painting process. What are the greatest obstacles that an older artist
may encounter in a shop if they are above the age of 60? Kneeling, crouching
and climbing. I am almost fifty-one years old and consider myself in pretty
good shape. I am overweight, but I have remained active my whole life and spent
hours working on the floor. Starting out as a dancer, the flexibility remains
with me – so far. That being said, I can no longer crawl around on my hands and
knees for extended periods of time anymore, without suffering the next day. I
had a big epiphany a few months ago when I was painting an ad drop on a
motorized paint frame at the University of Minnesota, Duluth. I was putting in
an ungodly amount of hours, all by myself, yet did not feel the strain. Although
I enjoyed what I was doing, the key for me was painting on a vertical paint
frame. At every step of the process, my painting was at the perfect
height. No over-reaching, no crouching
and no straining. Why would I need to ever retire if I could physically do the
work I love?
There is another thing to keep in mind about the early-twentieth
century American scenic studio that is really important– journeyman artists had
assistants. That is not the case with every journeyman artist now, especially
if you freelance and do not enjoy a permanent position. These young assistants,
“pot-boys” (for filling pots of paint), would tack up the drop on a vertical
frame, prime it and possibly base-coat many of the basic colors. If you were at
the top of your profession, you may only need to show up to paint the complex part
of scene, adding in flourishes to add dimension and sparkle. There are pros and
cons to our industry at every step it seems.
The industry really began to change in the 1920s – and then
completely shifted in the 1930s during the Great Depression. Scenic artists noted the shift in their
memoirs and in newspaper articles. Those who recalled the changing times at the
end of their life detailed the cause of change in scenic art. A few years back,
I read a series of letters between John Hanny and Dr. John Rothgeb from 1979.
They are now part of the Rothgeb collection at the University of Texas, Austin.
Hanny was hired at Sosman & Landis by Thomas G. Moses in 1906; he was 16
years old at the time and earning $6 a week. Although his salary increased
five-fold in six years, by 1920, he and four other artists left to form Chicago
Service Studios. That business only lasted six years. In 1926 Art Oberbeck of
ACME studios of Chicago bought the studio. Hanny’s scenic art career was
tumultuous at best beginning in the mid-1920s.
When asked by Dr. Rothgeb in 1979 to describe the era from
1900 to 1929, Hanny wrote the following:
“The depression of 1929 just about stopped the production of
stage scenery – at least in Chicago. Road shows, musicals, etc. if any were
being produced in New York and Hollywood. At this point all the studios
disappeared but the scene painter just couldn’t disappear and had to become
freelancers. There was no such thing as a steady job and the boys were hard put
to find a day’s pay. Most of the following 10 years were really tough and 1929
proved to be a big change in our business, in purpose, in design, paint and
other materials.” Hanny goes onto describe the emergence of a new theatrical
supplier: “These were not Scenic Studios but rather combinations of carpenter
and machine shops equipped to turn out booths, revolving turn tables,
electrical effects and so on. The art was done in any available loft or vacant
store space.”
This is when scenic art shifts from an art, to a craft; no
longer does painted illusion drive the industry, it almost becomes an after
thought of the production process. Yes, there are exceptions.
Hanny continues, “The biggest change to us painters was our
paints. Luminal Casein was pretty well established as a very practical and
useful medium so, it, and show card color was the norm. So – no more ‘dry’
colors – no more soup bowls or hot size, and of course no more paint frames.
Drops, if any were painted on the floor.” THIS is a turning point in American
scenic art. We abandon something that worked incredibly well for over a century.
Not everyone transitions to floor painting, and pockets remain with scenic
artists continuing to paint on vertical frames – just look at Hollywood. Scene
painting continues to thrive there more so than anywhere else in the United
States.
With the shift from painting on a vertical frame to the
floor for live theatre and industrial shows, standard techniques and tools also
changed. Hanny recalled, “The house painter’s sash brush came into use and many
of the former ‘tools’ such as snappers and center-poles and others were no
longer needed. The folding 2 ft. brass bound rule gave way to the yard stick.”
When this industry wide change occurred, Hanny was in his
forties and Moses was at the end of his career. I cannot imagine watching my
entire life’s work be condemned as “old fashioned” as much pictorial realism
went out of vogue. Think of the theatre world that Moses entered in 1873. He
was from the generation of scenic artists who chummed together on sketching
trips to gather resources. The generation who took art classes together at fine
art academies and garnered some of the top salaries in the theatre profession.
This was all ending, faster than any of them realized.
We talk about evolution in the theater industry;
technological innovations that herald change and produce ever-better products.
Sometimes the only way to forge ahead is to forget the past. If we don’t look back, we can’t lament what
is lost. Such was the case when the golden age of American scenic art came to
an end. 1880 to 1914 is what I consider the golden age of scenic art. Yes, I am
sure there are many who disagree with those dates. Much scenic art training simultaneously shifted
to academic institutions around this same time. This created a very different
atmosphere, a departure from scenic studios that began training sixteen-year-old
boys.
As with everything, a massive shift in any industry affects
the accepted standards. What we consider “beautiful” or even “acceptable” is
sometimes based on the lowest common denominator. As with many things,
“quality” work is relative to accepted industry standards and the times.
For well over a year I have posted a historic stage setting every day to my Facebook group “Dry Pigment.” This post is then shared with other groups for digital dissemination, but not here. I often group stage compositions on a theme, posting one version after another over the course of a week. In the past I have covered landscapes, seascapes, palaces, dungeons, hell scenes, cathedrals, and much more. The images are often from scenery evaluations that I completed over the past few decades while traveling throughout the United States of America.
While I take a break from the life and time of Thomas G. Moses until November 11, 2019, I am going to share my Dry Pigment FB Group posts. It helps illustrated the scenic aesthetic that I have been writing about for over three years.
I primarily post daily pictures of historic backdrops each day for my fellow scenic artists, many of whom were not exposed to this history during , or friends who are completely unfamiliar with this form of American popular entertainment. I always hope that this small and consistent gesture will help others with their future projects and research.
Today’s Dry Pigment post depicted a landscape produced by a Minneapolis Scenic studio that also had regional branches in other cities, such as Detroit, Michigan.
Backdrop produced by the Twin City Scenic Co. of Minneapolis, Minnesota.Detail of backdrop produced by the Twin City Scenic Co. of Minneapolis, Minnesota.Detail of backdrop produced by the Twin City Scenic Co. of Minneapolis, Minnesota.Detail of backdrop produced by the Twin City Scenic Co. of Minneapolis, Minnesota.Detail of backdrop produced by the Twin City Scenic Co. of Minneapolis, Minnesota.Detail of backdrop produced by the Twin City Scenic Co. of Minneapolis, Minnesota.Detail of backdrop produced by the Twin City Scenic Co. of Minneapolis, Minnesota.Detail of backdrop produced by the Twin City Scenic Co. of Minneapolis, Minnesota.Detail of backdrop produced by the Twin City Scenic Co. of Minneapolis, Minnesota.
I seldom mention any familial affiliations in my posts. Yet, I find myself preparing today to leave for Prague. I will take a break from my posts until June 24, returning to the life and times of Thomas G. Moses in 1910 that Monday.
109 years ago this fall, my paternal grandfather emigrated from Poland, sailing for the United States of America.
My grandfather, Josef Waszut
My story, as most Americans,
begins with immigrants, immigrants who were escaping their country to seek a
better life. It does not matter whether it was war, famine, or something worse;
they escaped and took their chances, hoping for a better life for themselves
and for future generations. I cannot fathom what they would think of our
situation in the United States now, closing our borders and saying that our
country is “full.” It is shameful.
My paternal grandmother, Rose
Rapacz, came to the United States without any ability to read or write in her native
tongue, let alone speak English. She never attended school, yet I have a doctorate.
I have achieved what she could only dream of as a child. In 1914, at the age eighteen, she escaped starvation
and a difficult life, after watching a sibling kicked to death by her uncle on
their farm, west of Warsaw. My great grandparents left her at the age of four years
old and started another life in America, leaving her in the care of an uncle;
gifting their farm for their children’s care.
My paternal grandfather came to the United States in 1910. He carefully calculated his exit before his 21st birthday. Josef Waszut sailed to America during the spring in 1910. He left his hometown of Istebna (then listed as part of Austria) that spring. Ship records list his nationality as Polish, whereas six years earlier, the passenger ship records listed his brother’s nationality as Slovenian. My grandfather boarded to S.S. Finland in Antwerp and arrived in the United States on May 31, 1910. He turned twenty-one aboard ship on May 23.
S.S. Finland
My grandfather listed his final
destination as Port Arthur, Wisconsin, where his brother was living at the time.
Entering the country through Ellis Island, he followed his brother George, who
had sailed to America in 1906, and later settled in Minneapolis.
The remainder of the father’s family
remained in Istebna, never to visit America. Over the years, the letters became
less frequent and then ceased in their entirety. Wars came and went; yet the
majority of the Waszut family remained in Istebna. Only a few years back, we received
a brief note – in a shoebox destined for Minneapolis from Poland for Josef
Waszut’s family. The shoebox message eventually found its way to my father.
My paternal grandmother and grandfather
left all that was familiar to them for a better life, as immigrants traveling
to America still do today. They never saw their family again, but each sought a
better future for their children and grandchildren. They were part of the “tired, poor and
huddled masses yearning to be free” that came and worked many of the jobs that established
Americans refused to do – they were the common laborers.
It is difficult at this time not
to think of the sonnet penned and committed to a bronze plaque that was once
attached to the Statue of Liberty’s base:
“The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
