Showing posts with label L. Frank Baum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label L. Frank Baum. Show all posts

Sunday, June 14, 2026

Review of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz

This opening night review of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz was published April 1, 1913, in the Los Angeles Evening Herald. The "Maud" that Mr. Price, the reviewer, refers to at one point was the animal star of the then-popular comic strip And Her Name was Maud by Frederick Burr Opper

TIK TOK [sic] SHOULD RUN LONG TIME

New Musical Play Sparkles in Gorgeous Beauty

By Guy Price 

Dolly Castles and Charles Ruggles.
Oliver Morosco’s $40,000 “Tik Tok [sic] Man of Oz” was exposed to public scrutiny at the Majestic last night. And if the approval of a first night audience counts for anything, and theatrical history tells us it does, the local manager stands a good chance to make a big fortune with this first musical comedy venture.

The Majestic was packed long before the performance began, the demand for seats being greater than the supply, resulting in hundreds being turned away. The audience not only was large and enthusiastic, but probably was the most fashionable that ever has turned out to witness the premiere of a play here. It was a beautiful foreground for the biggest event to occupy the local stage in its period of remarkable advancement. And Los Angeles should be proud.

The play, as all undoubtedly know by now, is a musical fantasy by L. Frank Baum and Louis Gottschalk. Mr. Baum wrote the book and lyrics and Mr. Gottschalk the music. The story is a continuation of the author’s famous Oz books and, although resembling in many ways “The Wizard of Oz,” it is built on entirely different lines. All the scenes are laid in fairyland and the theme as worked out is a tale of wondrous charm and beauty.

But the piece needs a lot of fixing before it will be ready for Chicago or New York, or even San Francisco. In its present embryonic form it lacks the polish and glitter that come only after the process of weeding is gone through. The comedy lines need strengthening—very few of them got over effectively last night—and Mr. Baum can greatly improve upon his book by exterminating several sections that impede rather than accelerate the action of the play. The physical and mental strain to which the players have been subjected in the past week, with rehearsals morning, noon and night, can be blamed for the lack of ginger on the part of some of the principals. Their spirits seemed to lag and at times the spirits of those sitting out in front suffered likewise; anyway, that is the way I felt. The players were trained to so fine an edge that they became “stale,” but it is to be hoped—and there is no doubt it will be done—that another rehearsal or two will eliminate the soggy defects.

The word “perfect” describes the music to an absolute nicety and Mr. Gottschalk’s direction of the orchestra proves him an artist of no uncommon ability. Here and there one discovers a familiar chord, but for the most part it is new, sparkling and melodious. The song numbers, written by Mr. Baum and set to tinkling music by Mr. Gottschalk, are the kind that send you away happy and whistling.

With due respect for the work of both author and composer, the feature of the play that attracts most is the scenic and electric effects. These never have been approached in this city before. Each scene is a picture of exquisite beauty and the color schemes are so entrancing to be beyond all description. The costumes are brilliant and delicious to the eye.

The best acting, in my opinion, is done by the mule, named Hank, played by Fred Woodward. He is working at top speed all of the time, and on no occasion does he overdue [sic] the part. Mr. Woodward came to us heralded as a wonderful portrayer of animal characters, but I will go even farther and pronounce him the “best mule in captivity,” not excepting his near kin, Maud, of funny section fame.

Speaking of Hank, naturally brings to mind Miss Lenora Novasio, who appears as Betsy, the girl from Oklahoma, who with her mule playmate is shipwrecked and rescued from a raft. Miss Novasio is, in my opinion, the real bright spot of the play. She is full of life and she rescues the performance from an almost comatose state. She sings two or three rollicking songs and, though not blessed with a strong voice, does exceedingly well. The only fault that could be found with her entire performance is the plainness of her costumes. A few more frills, I believe, would add to her attractiveness.

Morton and Moore, impersonating Tik Tok [sic] and Shaggy Man respectively, are the pricipal [sic] comedians and, of course, they are good. The former is a clever dancer, fair singer and speaks his lines so that he can be heard by those in the rear of the theater. His agility is extraordinary and his make-up and facial expressions are as funny as they are grotesque. Moore has greater opportunity for comedy and he makes the most of it. Both are clever and should be better with a few more rehearsals.

Eugene Cowles handles the role of the Metal King in his usual perfect style and in several songs further proves his ability as a basso of power and wide range. Dolly Castles is demurely sweet as Polychrome. In her duet with Charles Ruggles she is especially pleasing. Mr. Ruggles, cast as Private Files, plays his small part well. Miss Josie Intropidi gives an ingenious character portrayal of Queen Anne, [sic] while Mlle. Vera Doria sings beautifully as Princess Ozma.

The most skillful dancing seen here in some time, with the possible exception of Genee, is executed by Burns and Fulton. The dance is entitled “The Whirlwind,” and it certainly is true to its name. Their performance is lightning fast and one to marvel at.

“The Tik Tok [sic] Man of Oz” after a little repairing should make Chicago and New York jump up and gaze on in amazement, but one thing is certain—if play, music and everything else fail to impress, that chorus of beauties, some thirty girls strong, well-figured and as sprightly as birds in the light of a new morning’s sun, will command attention. A bigger, better galaxy of maidens never lent charm to a stage production. And they are mostly California product, too.

Manager Morosco, Author Baum, Composer Gottschalk, Director Frank Stammers and Artist Robert Brunton were called before the curtain between the first and second acts. The author and manager made short speeches in which they thanked the audience for their appreciation and expressions of good will.

Copyright © 2026 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved. 

Friday, March 13, 2026

Maud or Matilda?

Matilda Joslyn Gage

Maud Gage Baum
Scholarship on L. Frank Baum has been plagued for decades with misinformation, myths based on Baum family tradition, and outright fabrications. Dig into Baumian research and you’ll find hanging Munchkins all around.

I lay much of the blame at the feet of Baum’s eldest son, Frank Joslyn Baum, and the biography of his father he co-authored, To Please a Child. But Frank J.’s not the only culprit to perpetuate balderdash surrounding the life of L. Frank Baum. A lot of false information has been repeated so many times, it’s taken on the stamp of authenticity. One can wear oneself out shoveling the layer of crap that’s hardened for decades. I’ve been reading distorted and erroneous information about L. Frank Baum since I was a child. Consciously checking my preconceptions at the door has gotten easier over the years. For All Wound Up, I strove to base my research, my statements, and my conclusions on solid evidence from as close to the events as I could reach.

Even so, the evidence sometimes proves slippery. Here’s an example. For decades now, scholars have claimed that L. Frank Baum’s mother-in-law, the nationally known women’s rights activist Matilda Joslyn Gage, inspired Baum to write down and publish the stories that he made up for his sons, strongly implying that Baum wouldn’t have published The Wonderful Wizard of Oz if not for Matilda. But is this view actually true?

Baum during his lifetime consistently credited his wife Maud—not his mother-in-law—with inspiring him to write down his stories. Maud Gage Baum was the founding impulse for Baum’s writing career, according to Baum himself.

Words direct from the horse’s mouth should be definitive, right? Maybe.

Baum was a jokester, a storyteller, a crowd-pleaser, and sometimes a downright liar, which complicates the job of squashing those hanging Munchkins. Maybe Baum wasn’t telling the truth about who inspired him to write his stories down. Maybe he wanted to flatter his wife. Maybe he wanted to simplify the story for publicity. But as far as I know, Baum never credited his mother-in-law Matilda.

How did Matilda become a candidate in the first place? In 1939, two decades after Baum’s death, Maud directly contradicted her husband’s statements when she told a reporter that her mother Matilda was the person who urged Baum to write his stories down. It's a credible claim. Matilda actively—even vehemently—encouraged another of her daughters to write, so perhaps she encouraged Baum as well. 

Can we trust Maud’s memories of decades past? Not always. In interviews long after Baum died, Maud occasionally got facts wrong. But I’d think she would have known whether she or her mother ignited her husband's internationally famous writing career. In giving her mother Matilda the credit, was Maud correcting Baum's version of events? Or was she, perhaps, simply shy of publicly claiming credit for herself?

Who are we to believe? Who spurred Baum’s writing career—his wife Maud or his mother-in-law Matilda?

During the 1890s, when Baum’s career of writing for children began, Matilda made long visits to the Baum household. She spent her last days in the Baum’s Chicago home and died there in 1898. Both Maud and Matilda were in the right place at the right time. Both mother and daughter may have voiced a shared opinion on what Baum should do with the stories he made up, especially if they were in the room at the same time and if the encouragement took place on more than one occasion.

I doubt we’ll ever know for certain. At this point, I think the most reasonable view is that both Maud and Matilda encouraged Baum to write. That’s the stance I took in All Wound Up.

Click here to order your copy of

All Wound Up: The Making of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz.


Notes

Michael Patrick Hearn, The Annotated Wizard of Oz (second edition), New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2000, xxvii; Sally Roesch WagnerThe Wonderful Mother of Oz, Fayetteville, NY: Matilda Joslyn Gage Foundation, 2003; Angelica Shirley Carpenter, Born Criminal, Pierre: South Dakota Historical Society Press, 2018, 187; "Weaver of Fairy Dreams Here; 'Tik-Tok' Originator in Town," San Francisco (CA) Examiner, 19 April 1913; "Composers and Librettists of Next Week's Light Operas," Indianapolis (IN) News, 6 September 1913, 11; Teet Carle, “Writer of 'Oz' Books Once Lived in S. D.,” Daily Argus-Leader (Sioux Falls, SD), 25 June 1939, 14; Maud Gage Baum, letter to Sgt. Jack Stone [sic, Snow], 21 June 1943, TS; Matilda Joslyn Gage, letter to Helen L. Gage, 11 February 1895; "Matilda Joslyn Gage Dead," Chicago (IL) Tribune, 18 March 1898.

Copyright © 2026 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Monday, February 2, 2026

Baum the Jokester

On April 4, 1913, the pseudonymous reporter "Zip," in a regular dramatic column for the Los Angeles (California) Times, related an amusing anecdote involving L. Frank Baum, which occurred shortly before Baum's new musical The Tik-Tok Man of Oz premiered in Los Angeles:

I heard a good one pulled in the Majestic lobby the other night. Somebody, I can’t tell who it was, asked Frank Baum what he was going to do if someone should stand up in the audience at the first performance and shout, “Baum, Baum, Baum.”

To which the author laughingly replied that he hoped such an event would not occur, for the reason that someone might think the kindly-inclined individual was shouting “Bum, Bum, Bum.”

Copyright © 2026 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved. 

Saturday, November 1, 2025

Men Behind Tik-Tok

 

These photographs from the Los Angeles Daily Tribune of April 1, 1913, show the principal creators of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, the hit stage musical that opened production at the Majestic Theater in Los Angeles, California, the previous evening. Left to right, they are:

Oliver Morosco, producer

L. Frank Baum, author of the libretto and lyrics

Louis F. Gottschalk, composer

Frank M. Stammers, director

Robert A. Brunton, scenic designer

The $40,000 they appear in is the amount The Tik-Tok Man of Oz cost to produce.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Sunday, August 31, 2025

Temperamental L. Frank Baum

L. Frank Baum, playwright
As a playwright, L. Frank Baum seemed to have little patience with editorial interference. When a script doctor revised Baum’s script of the stage version of The Wizard of Oz in 1902, Baum objected strenuously. In 1905, when The Wogglebug was being staged, Baum refused to let anyone else touch his script.

So in 1913, when producer Oliver Morosco wanted to make changes to The Tik-Tok Man of Oz script early in the rehearsal period, he approached Baum carefully. Morosco spoke softly and flatteringly before suggesting the possibility of condensing Act Two.

To anyone aware of Baum’s past displays of temperament, his reply was a surprise: “Oh, you want to cut it,” said Baum. . . . “Well, then, go as far as you like.”

Oliver Morosco, producer

This may have been when the part of the Ugly Man was cut down, turning it into a minor role. Charles Ruggles, originally cast as the Ugly Man, was shifted to the role of Private Files.

Of course, following opening night, The Tik-Tok Man of Oz changed even more. Baum seems to have been content for several months to work with Morosco, tightening and sprucing up the script while the production ran in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Chicago. Serious conflict seems to have arisen only toward the end of the 1913 summer season, when it grew evident that the show would not open the regular theatre season on Broadway and Baum relinquished creative control over the script.

For a complete history of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, see the book All Wound Up, available here.

 

Notes

J. Rex James, “Morosco’s Invasion of New York Announced; Edison’s Kinetophone Replaces Bernhardt,” Daily Tribune (Los Angeles, CA), 15 March 1913, 13, 16; “Objects to Changes,” Syracuse (NY) Daily Journal, 3 June 1902, 6; O. L. Colburn, “Telegraphic News; Chicago,” New York (NY) Dramatic Mirror, 22 July 1905, 12; “Heard Back of the Curtains,” Los Angeles (CA) Daily Tribune, 20 March 1913, 15; “Behind the Scenes by the Genial Grouch,” Los Angeles (CA) Express, 5 May 1913, 10; Memorandum of Agreement among Oliver Morosco, L. Frank Baum, and Louis Gottschalk, Los Angeles, CA, 9 September 1913.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, July 16, 2025

Photo Shoot for Forthcoming Show

Here's another photo from the series taken by a newspaper photographer, likely in January 1913. Composer Louis F. Gottschalk and author L. Frank Baum pose amid work on their forthcoming musical The Tik-Tok Man of Oz. The location is the studio of Lou Gottschalk's best friend and brother-in-law, painter John Bond Francisco.

Both Gottschalk and Baum had plenty of experience acting on stage, so presenting the photographer with engaging expressions probably came naturally to the men. The playfulness of their poses suggests that they had a good working rapport. 

This photo appeared in the Los Angeles Sunday Tribune on March 30, 1913, the day before The Tik-Tok Man of Oz opened at Los Angeles's Majestic Theater. Hank the Mule, a character from the show, invades the picture area from the right. A newspaper publicity push for the show included both these photos and more.

Other photos from this shoot appear on pages 4, 56, and 58 in my book All Wound Up, which contains the complete history of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, January 22, 2025

New Review on Readers' Favorite

Randy B. Lichtman's five star review of All Wound Up: The Making of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz graces the Readers' Favorite website. Here it is:

Did you know that many years before the Marvel Universe, there was a Universe of Oz, started by author Frank Baum? Baum wrote many Oz books and turned them into films, stage plays, and musicals. In bringing his creations to the early screen and stage, he was the producer/director and sometimes actor who helped create some of the special effects for the works on stage. One of the musicals he wrote was The Tik-Tok Man of Oz which he co-created with American composer and music director, Louis F. Gottschalk in 1913. The musical was later revived by Eric Shanower for a convention of Oz enthusiasts in 2014, after which he wrote All Wound Up—The Making of the Tik-Tok Man of Oz: The Complete Story of the Spectacular Stage Musical.

The book is complete with history, photos, and behind-the-scenes information about the musical, but also provides a brief biography of Frank Baum and a very extensive biography of composer Louis F. Gottschalk. It is extremely well-researched and told in a very entertaining fashion, containing many fun stories including the challenges of the mechanics behind Hank the Mule (and the actor behind it). The book takes you into the era in which Baum lived, the challenges of bringing his piece to the stage, and includes the script of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz (based on two surviving scripts). The author has done a remarkable job of bringing together a thorough history of the original production and the challenges of producing a revival today. If you enjoy reading behind-the-scenes production books and/or are a Wizard of Oz enthusiast, All Wound Up—The Making of the Tik-Tok Man of Oz by Eric Shanower is an enjoyable read.

Sounds super, doesn't it? If you want your own copy of All Wound Up, click here for the link.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Thursday, October 31, 2024

Baum's Opera House

My presentation at Oz Con International, July 2024.
At Oz Con International in July 2024, I gave a presentation on Baum’s Opera House. That’s the theatre in Richburg, New York, that L. Frank Baum co-managed with his uncle John Wesley Baum for ten weeks in 1881-82.

For decades, a lot of false information has accumulated about Baum’s early theatrical career. Falsities include the idea that L. Frank Baum’s father gave Baum “a string of opera houses,” that L. Frank Baum produced his own plays at Baum’s Opera House, and that L. Frank Baum ever belonged to a “Shakespearean troupe” of actors. I intended my groundbreaking presentation to blast away many of the false accretions—those pesky Hanging Munchkins—and present the truth about Baum’s Opera House.

But I wanted to present more than that. I wanted to identify the spot where Baum’s Opera House once stood.

Early in the morning of March 8, 1882, Baum’s Opera House burned beyond repair, thus ending Baum’s theatre management career. The building was never rebuilt and its location was lost. 

Newspaper ads for the theatre’s productions never included an address. Baum’s 1881-82 correspondence provides no street address for his theatre. Even the letterhead on Baum’s Opera House stationery lacks a street address. I doubt the theatre ever had an official address. One wouldn’t have been necessary for the single legitimate theatre in the small village of Richburg in the early 1880s.

Baum's letterhead as manager of Baum's Opera House.

Past historians have assumed that Richburg’s second theatre—named Brown’s Opera House—was built on the same spot where Baum’s Opera House stood. My research proved that assumption incorrect.

Newspaper reports from 1881-82 indicate the theatre’s proximity to other vanished landmarks, but that info provides only a general location, not a specific one.

The red rectangle shows my original best guess for the theatre's location.
I contacted Melanie Johnston of the Richburg-Wirt Historical Society, who provided further theatre location clues. Combining all my gathered information, I came up with a guess for the location—an educated guess, but a guess, nonetheless. That’s what I offered in my Oz Con International presentation last July.

Several months later, I visited Richburg, New York, in person for the first time. On the evening of October 6, at the Richburg-Wirt Historical Society, I gave my Baum’s Opera House presentation, slightly revised. I included new information pertinent to residents of the Richburg area and removed references aimed primarily at Oz fans. I again presented my best guess for the theatre’s location. Still, it remained a guess.

About to give my presentation in Richburg.

Melanie Johnston of the Richburg-Wirt Historical Society arranged my appearance and attended. I thanked her again for the information she’d provided. As the audience listened, she and I briefly discussed problems with determining the location of Baum’s Opera House.

After my presentation, Melanie and her husband showed my partner, theatre historian David Maxine, and me around the cozy Richburg-Wirt Historical Society museum. David spotted on one wall a large old photograph of Richburg in its oil boom days, tall derricks sprouting across the landscape. Across the bottom of the photo appeared words clearly written on the original negative: March 1882. That’s the month Baum’s Opera House burned. Was the photo taken before or after the fire? We studied the photo to find Baum’s Opera House or its remains. We couldn’t, and the hour was growing late, so David took phone photos of the Richburg photo on the wall.

Next morning, during daylight, David and I visited the general area where Baum’s Opera House once stood. After more than one hundred and forty years, we didn’t expect to find any remains of Baum’s theatre, but we wanted to examine the spot of my best guess. We walked up and down the sidewalks and street, staring around, debating. We compared what we saw to David’s phone shots of the old Richburg photo from March 1882. In the photo, some distance to the right of my location guess, I recognized a house that still stands today. To the left of that house in the photo, David noticed a puzzling area, unlike anything else in the photo. Neither of us could figure out what it pictured, until David suggested it showed the burned remains of a building.

A portion of a photograph of Richburg, New York, clearly marked March 1882. The area within the white rectangle is enlarged in the image immediately below.

 
Enlargement of portion of the Richburg photograph above. The large building on the left is the Academy, sitting at the far edge of Academy Park. The fully visible building in the upper right still stands today. What appear to be the fire-ravaged remains of a large building stand just left of center, including a substantial portion of the damaged front facade and a dark doorway at the facade's bottom center. Park Row runs from center of the photo toward the bottom right corner.

Eureka! (And I don’t mean the kitten.) We’d found the location of Baum’s Opera House!

We compared the location of the burned remains to our current reality. There stood a residential house, 115 Griffin, and its detached garage, across the street from Bolivar-Richburg Elementary School.

I no longer had to guess. Baum’s Opera House stood in Richburg, New York, on the northwest side of Griffin Street where Park Row "T"s into Griffin, one block northwest of Main Street (New York State Route 275).

The location of Baum's Opera House on Griffin Street in Richburg, New York. The building that stands just past the bend in Griffin Street is also visible in the March 1882 photo of Richburg.
















Imagine yourself in Richburg, New York, on a frosty evening in late December 1881, turning the corner from Main Street into Park Row. As you stroll along, Academy Park lies on your left, lined at the street with an evenly spaced row of trees, their leafless branches spreading high against the evening sky. From ahead, at the end of the street, float the growing strains of a band playing the pre-show concert in front of Baum’s Opera House, a large wooden clapboard building, newly erected. A tall young man, well-dressed, with neatly combed brown hair and a handle-bar mustache, steps out of the theatre’s front door. It’s Louis F. Baum, the theatre’s manager. He beckons to the gathering crowd. Tonight’s show starts soon. Don’t miss it!

[For more about L. Frank Baum's theatrical career, see David Maxine's blog VintageBroadway.com]

Copyright © 2024 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.
I thank Sam Milazzo and David Maxine for permission to use their photos. Thanks also to Oz Con International and the Richburg-Wirt Historical Society.
Photograph of Eric Shanower at Oz Con International copyright © 2024 Sam Milazzo. All rights reserved.
Photograph of Eric Shanower at Richburg-Wirt Historical Society copyright © 2024 David Maxine. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, September 17, 2024

Coincidental Oz

Joseph Kline Emmet, Sr.
The Tik-Tok Man of Oz composer Louis F. Gottschalk, early in his career, acted as musical director for the tour of the play Fritz in Ireland. The show starred Joseph K. Emmet, Jr., carrying on his father’s legacy as the well-known character Fritz. In 1870, Emmet, Jr.’s father, Joseph Kline Emmet (1841–1891), made Fritz famous in the show Fritz, Our Cousin German and played the character for the rest of his life. His son took up the role after his father’s death.

In May 1884, the senior Emmet, through his manager, Phil H. Lehnen, bought “two beautiful Jersey cattle” from the Syracuse, New York, area farm of Benjamin W. Baum, the father of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz writer L. Frank Baum. Lehnen paid $1000 for the cattle and sent them to Albany, New York, where they joined the “many attractions on and about” Joe Emmet’s property.

How’s that for an unexpected connection to The Tik-Tok Man of Oz?


Notes

“Joe Emmet Buys Two Cows,” Syracuse (NY) Standard, 19 May 1884, 4; “Amusements,” Daily Picayune (New Orleans, LA), 9 January 1893, 3; “This and That,” Buffalo (NY) Enquirer, 25 March 1893, 5. Image credit: Harry T. Peters "America on Stone" Lithography Collection.

Copyright © 2024 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Thursday, May 9, 2024

Baum Closes on Broadway

Program for Baum's "Fairylogue" and "Radio-Plays," 1908.
Some months ago, a prominent Oz fan organization posted a curious statement on a social media forum. The posting claimed that L. Frank Baum’s “The Fairylogue and Radio-Plays” [sic] closed in New York City on December 16, 1908, earlier than the run’s scheduled end. This caught my attention.

Baum’s “Fairylogue” and “Radio-Plays” were a combined multi-media stage presentation, including motion pictures, narrated by L. Frank Baum himself. The show toured the US upper Midwest and northeast during the fall of 1908. In December 1908, the show ran for three weeks at the Hudson Theatre in New York, New York, with Baum performing on Broadway for the second time in his life. Though often reviewed positively during its run, the show drained thousands of dollars from Baum’s pocket and was one of the reasons he later declared bankruptcy in 1911.

During my research for All Wound Up, I traced the history of the “Fairylogue” and “Radio-Plays,” since it’s pertinent to Baum’s stage works for children. Newspaper ads for the show indicate that it ran through December 31, 1908, so the claim of a December 16 early closure posted on the social media forum puzzled me. It seemed to be another Hanging Munchkin (my term for Oz-related misinformation, inspired by the urban myth that a little person hanged himself on the set of the 1939 MGM Wizard of Oz movie). In a bid for clarity, I commented on the social media posting, requesting identification of the source for the claim that the “Fairylogue” closed early.

A prominent Oz collector replied with a response from a longtime Oz and Baum historian. The historian said—and I’m quoting the comment on the post—that: “NYC mayor George B. McClellan, Jr. canceled all moving-picture exhibition licenses due to safety concerns, abruptly ending Baum’s tour.”

I fully agree with the first part of that response. Mayor McClellan’s Christmas Eve 1908 order to close theatres was widely reported in the New York press. But I disagree that the mayor’s order ended Baum’s “Fairylogue” tour. Five hundred five-cent “nickelodeon” movie theatres closed, as well as several vaudeville houses, but the Hudson Theatre, where Ethel Barrymore was appearing in the play Lady Frederick during the evenings after Baum’s “Fairylogue” and “Radio-Plays” matinees, doesn’t seem to have been affected.

The very next day, Christmas Day 1908, Judge Abel E. Blackmar of the Supreme Court of New York issued a temporary injunction that blocked Mayor McClellan’s order. The following day, December 26, Justice William J. Gaynor of the Supreme Court of New York issued a blanket injunction restraining police from taking action against all of the affected theatres. Theatres re-opened, more legal actions followed, and eventually, in January 1909, Blackmar struck down McClellan’s order.

New York Supreme Court Justice Abel E. Blackmar, 1922

Baum stayed on top of the early developments as they occurred. That’s clearly demonstrated by the Christmas Day 1908 letter he wrote to Mayor McClellan. Baum’s letter addressed a major issue that prompted the mayor’s order to close theatres: safety. In the letter, Baum suggested “a plan for safe-guarding moving-picture apparatus” and described features he used for the “Fairylogue” and “Radio-Plays.”

A discussion of Baum's letter to Mayor George McClellan, New York Times, Dec. 26, 1908.

After Christmas, newspaper advertisements for the “Fairylogue” and “Radio-Plays” continued, including ads on December 27, 28, and 29. I’m reluctant to believe that advertising money would have been spent if performances had been cancelled. Maybe by some strange chance, Baum and the Hudson Theatre management never bothered to stop the ads for a closed show. But I find the idea that they preferred to kiss that ad money good-bye highly unlikely.

See lowest lines advertising Baum's show, New York Times, Dec. 29, 1908.

In addition to advertisements, at least one newspaper publicity column announced performances Baum would give after December 16, which is the date the social media posting claimed the show closed.

Announcement from New York Sun, Dec. 20, 1908.
In the face of the evidence, I see no reason to conclude that the show closed early. More likely the “Fairylogue” and “Radio-Plays” ran as advertised and continued until the scheduled end of the Broadway run, Thursday, December 31, 1908.

I outlined this information on the social media thread and got no direct response. But the original posting eliminated the “16” from the claimed closing date of the “Fairylogue” and “Radio-Plays,” leaving the show’s closure listed as merely “December 1908.” I guess that’s a small triumph for truth.

For my account of Baum's "Fairylogue" and "Radio-Plays" and its place in the history of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, see the book All Wound Up.


Notes

“Maud Adams in a New Play,” Sun (New York, NY), 20 December 1908, III 6; “Wage War on Shows,” New-York (NY) Daily Tribune, 24 December 1908, 4; “Moving Picture Men Plan Fight on Mayor’s Order,” Evening World (New York, NY), 25 December 1908, 2; “Moving Picture Shows,” New-York (NY) Tribune, 26 December 1908, 6; “Not Merry for the Film Men,” Sun (New York, NY), 26 December 1908, 4; “Picture-Show Men Organize to Fight,” New York (NY) Times, 26 December 1908, 2; “Courts Come to Aid of Moving Picture Men,” Evening World (New York, NY), 26 December 1908, 1, 2; “Blue Sunday for Theatres if the Police Obey Orders,” Standard Union (Brooklyn, NY), 27 December 1908, 1; “Moving Picture Shows Open by Court Orders,” New York (NY) Herald, 27 December 1908, 5; “Showmen Enjoin Police,” New-York (NY) Daily Tribune, 27 December 1908, 2; “A Blanket Injunction for Moving Pictures,” Brooklyn (NY) Daily Eagle, 27 December 1908, 1, 5; Advertisement, New York (NY) Times, 27 December 1908, VI 9; Advertisement, New York (NY) Times, 28 December 1908, 14; “Would Close 4 Theatres,” Evening Post (New York, NY), 28 December 1908, 1; “Mayor Makes War on Sunday Vaudeville,” New York (NY) Times, 29 December 1908, 3; “Mayor Feared Loss of Life at Picture Shows,” Evening World (New York, NY), 29 December 1908, 18; Advertisement, New York (NY) Times, 29 December 1908, 16; “The Moving Picture Field; Wholesale Revoking of Licenses,” New York (NY) Dramatic Mirror, 2 January 1909, 8; “Picture Shows Still Running,” Variety (New York, NY), 2 January 1909, 10; “Film Men Win Big Victory,” Morning Call (Patterson, NJ), 7 January 1909, 1; “Picture Shows May Go On,” Sun (New York, NY), 7 January 1909, 4; “Court Overrules Mayor,” Variety (New York, NY), 9 January 1909, 12.

Copyright © 2024 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Friday, February 16, 2024

Hanging Munchkins All Around

L. Frank Baum
I complain both privately (pretty often) and publicly (on occasion) about published books and articles that present fallacious information about L. Frank Baum and his Oz projects. The myths presented as fact about Baum and Oz seem never to end.

What is it about Oz and its creator that for more than six decades has prompted people to publish information purported to be truth about Oz and Baum, but which is just plain wrong? Books and articles about Oz and Baum—both in print and online—appear with alarming regularity, spreading their shoddy gospel of half-truths, mistakes, confusions, misleading statements, and outright lies cloaked in the guise of reliability.

Inaccuracies about Baum can sometimes be traced to his first major biography, To Please a Child, by Russell P. MacFall and Frank Joslyn Baum. That book overflows with fanciful stories of the elder Baum’s life, stories that demonstrably did not occur in the manner the book claims—or didn’t occur at all. Oz fandom has known for decades that info spouted by To Please a Child requires independent confirmation. Researchers, scholars, and writers who’ve been part of Oz fandom—or at least in contact with it—should know better than to rely on To Please a Child. Too often, it seems, they don’t.

But it’s not just To Please a Child. Blind spots from plenty of other shoddy research and inept presentations infect Oz fandom. They seem to be ineradicable. They’re regurgitated endlessly. I know. I’ve been in contact with Oz fandom since I was a child, imbibing the fallacies, the half-truths, the false narratives since before I had tools to recognize them for what they were. I’ve needed to work hard to remove blind spots from my own views of Oz and Baum. I may have more work to do.

Then there are those who publish about Oz and Baum from outside Oz fandom. One well-meaning and widely-published author of books about Abraham Lincoln, Hillary Clinton, and the Beatles, as well as one about L. Frank Baum, conscientiously gathered at least three supporting citations for each purportedly factual statement in her manuscripts. Should be a solid technique, right? Unfortunately, no. Not for L. Frank Baum. Since at least the mid-1950s, so much error about Baum has been published that finding three sources to support an erroneous statement is easy. When one writes about Baum, pitfalls loom in every direction. This writer fell in, but she was far from alone. She had plenty of company down at the bottom of the pit.

The books and articles keep coming. Error upon error, the misinformation marches on and is added to regularly by people who should know better.  The type of errors I’m thinking of trouble me more than Littlefield’s “Parable on Populism” and (despite this post’s title) the Hanging Munchkin—laughable, easily punctured, and comparatively recent trifles to bamboozle the ignorant. I’m complaining about both large, senseless distortions and flatly incorrect details that present themselves as reliable and authoritative information about an author’s life and the creation and continuation of his works.

It’s maddening. (And before anyone brings it up, yes, I recognize the inevitable, only-just-beginning nightmare of generative AI regurgitating this crap forever.)

I complain. But I’m not without sympathy. I’m a writer, too. I know firsthand the difficulty in writing accurately, truthfully, and clearly. Writing something worthwhile is hard work. But we must strive to make what we publish worthwhile.

While I wrote All Wound Up, the troubling specter haunting far too much Oz and Baum research hovered close. I hoped that All Wound Up would not turn out to nourish that specter.

Any large non-fiction project on a historical subject presents challenges. Making sure every sentence is based on truth is a task of not inconsiderable magnitude. I didn’t want to perpetuate any fallacies—or create new ones—in All Wound Up. I wanted to eliminate inaccuracy—kill the lies at their roots—back up my statements with reliable sources. And if I couldn’t back a statement up, I qualified it.

But who can anticipate every possible problem when piecing together a puzzle of the past from which pieces are missing? I aimed for diligence. I tried to think critically.  I gathered a wide range of sources, primarily material of the times and places and people involved—letters, contracts, newspaper articles, photographs. During both the writing process and afterward, when I considered the manuscript finished and was designing the book, I discovered new sources with new information, and I adjusted what I’d already written. Several people with critical eyes—people both within Oz fandom and outside it—read the manuscript—or portions of it—and gave me feedback before publication. But I’m not infallible. No matter what, despite my striving to make All Wound Up worthwhile, it’s bound to have cracks.

Then there’s another nightmare—who knows what material unavailable to me while I wrote will come to light in the future and contradict All Wound Up?

The only way to avoid all mistakes is not to publish. But that’s no answer. That does no one any good.

So here’s my answer to any mistakes in All Wound Up: this weblog. Here I can correct those mistakes, clear up confusions, and address any downright stupidities (few, I hope) in the published book. The main reason the book includes the web address of this blog is so readers can easily access updates, corrections, and further information about The Tik-Tok Man of Oz.

So here’s a correction to All Wound Up.

In the summer of 1912, the composer Louis F. Gottschalk visited his hometown of Los Angeles, California. There he read L. Frank Baum’s stage script Ozma of Oz (which would be produced the next year as The Tik-Tok Man of Oz). Gottschalk liked the script and sent a letter to Baum. Gottschalk claimed that he sent his letter to Syracuse, New York, where Baum was visiting. And I repeated this information. Twice it appears in All Wound Up—on page 51 and again on page 325.

However, Baum wasn’t visiting Syracuse, the city where he’d grown up from childhood.

Baum had gone to Chicago, the city where he’d lived before moving to Los Angeles.

On July 15, 1912, L. Frank Baum and his wife, Maud, left Ozcot, their Hollywood home in Los Angeles for an extended visit to Chicago. Shortly before September 19, the Baums returned home. Local Hollywood newspaper articles make this clear.

Why did Gottschalk claim Baum visited Syracuse? Gottschalk told his story in June 1913, nearly a year after it happened, so perhaps Gottschalk didn’t remember the city correctly. Or maybe he sent his letter to Syracuse by mistake, though that seems less likely to me. Anyway, I relied on Gottschalk’s testimony and wrote that Baum was in Syracuse. I should have verified Gottschalk’s statement before All Wound Up was published.

So, I confess, I’ve published inaccuracies about Baum and Oz, just like all those other writers. But I’ve brought my mistake into the light for all to see and I’ve corrected it. This probably won’t be the last time. But while we’re waiting, any of you other writers want to take a turn?

Notes

“City Briefs,” Hollywood (CA) Citizen, 12 July 1912, 4; “City Briefs,” Hollywood Citizen, 19 July 1912, 4; “City Briefs,” Hollywood Citizen, 13 September 1912, 4; “Gottschalk to Write Opera Here,” Chicago (IL) Examiner, 8 June 1913, VII 6.

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