Boston Harbor Camouflage

Above Cartoon by Wallace Goldsmith (1873-1945). It accompanied the news feature quoted below.

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Anon, CAMOUFLAGE LESSONS IN BOSTON HARBOR, in The Boston Globe, Wednesday, July 10, 1918, p. 3—

Lessons in camouflage are of daily occurrence in Boston Harbor nowadays.

Like a fat lady hustling home, the ferry boat churned its way across the harbor.

A gentleman in a checkered suit and wearing a fuzzy face tottered uneasily against the railing.

He gazed abstractly at the harbor shipping. Suddenly a look of consternation came into his eyes. These he rubbed vigorously with a large red fist—once, twice and yet a third time. He gave his head a vision-clearing shake. “No good!” he exclaimed. “it’s still there.” Turning about with a frightened expression he nervously plucked a fellow-voyager by the sleeve and with trembling voice cried, “Say, old pal, do you see what I see?”

“Dunno,” replied “Pal.” “I been used to seein’ a lot o’ things in my time, but if it’s that there ship with the futurist paintin’ on her that you’re alludin’ to, why you can set your mind at rest. We’re seein’ the same thing. It’s real an’ you needn’t be expectin’ to see no pink elephants wander’ into your field o’ vision. 

“That there weird art work is camouflage calculated to fool them Germans.”

“O,” ejaculated the fuzzy-faced one in a relieved tone, “that crazy lookin’ ship sure ought to scare that Kaiser all right when he gets his lamps onto it.”

“‘Tain’t to scare the Kaiser. Them wavy lines an’ splotches is supposed to look like waves when he gets to sea, and it’s calculated that the U-boats can’t see her cause the ocean’s got a lot more waves floppin’ round. An’ if a sub tries to get her all its got to shoot at is the steamer’s smoke, an’ out there in the ocean I reckon that’s like shootin’ at the wide, wide world.”

“She sure is hid some.”

“Well, we live and learn,” said he of the checkered suit, in a relieved tone. “All you got to do to hide things is to paint ‘em like the things around ‘em, and there you are, or, rather, there it ain’t.”

“Yep, you got the idea now,” said Pal. “I been studyin’ this thing for some time. I’ve got a little house out here a piece, and there’s trees out back of it. I’ve been thinkin’ I’d paint trees on the front of the house, and then it’d look like nothin’ but woods was there.

“And when the bill collector that’s been pesterin’ me comes out next time he’ll look astonished and prob’ly say, ‘Gosh hang it! I could a swore Bill Jones lived right here, and here I am lost in the woods.’

“Also, I’ve a little flip, and I like to go out speedin’ now and then, but these here park cops have got my number, and they’re all the time holdin’ me up.

“I’m goin’ to fool ‘em. I’m goin’ to paint flowers all over the whiz cart an’ when the park cop sets his eyes on to her he’ll begin cussin’ the park dept for plantin’ gardens in the middle of the road.

“By the time he realizes that the garden’s movin’ I’ll be past him and so far away he’ll think he’s only had a bad dream.”

At this juncture the ferry reached her slip and the conversation terminated in the noise and flurry of the hurrying throng.

USS West Galoc in Freshly Painted Camouflage

Above Photographs of the two sides of the USS West Galoc (port and starboard), with its newly applied dazzle camouflage. These were probably taken in August 1918, concurrent with the publication of the newspaper story below. NH 99391 and NH 106230.

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Anon, EARLY SERVICE SEEN FOR LA-BUILT SHIP. Los Angeles Herald. No 252, August 22, 1918—

The [USS] West Galoc, the 8800-ton vessel constructed, equipped and manned in Los Angeles harbor, today was formally in the possession of the government, ready for service wherever the Shipping Board desired to dispatch her. The vessel, with its coat of camouflage, was turned over to the government after all tests had been completed and the boat found to be perfect. The vessel will have a crew of about 100, practically all of the men having received their training at the station at San Pedro. The men from the station who went aboard the vessel expressed themselves as delighted at the prospect of immediate service.

Ship Camouflage, Indians and Sunset Magazine

Cover by W.H. Bull or Harold Von Schmidt (1918)

Sunset magazine was founded in 1898. Eight years later its offices were destroyed by the San Francisco earthquake. In its literary and artistic heydey, which was more or less concurrent with World War I, it was one of the country's finest periodicals. It offered top quality writing, both fiction and nonfiction, with covers and interior images by some of the best illustrators. 

Some of its most memorable covers were created by Maynard Dixon, who was associated with the well-known cluster of artists at Taos NM. As we've explained in an earlier post, Dixon was a member of the American Camouflage Western Division in California, and two of his fellow artists and friends—William Penhallow Henderson and Bro Julius Olson Nordfeldt—were ship camoufleurs in San Francisco during the war. 

Yesterday, we made yet another discovery while browsing around in old issues of Sunset: The Pacific Monthly. On the cover of the December 1918 issue, quietly hidden for all these years, is a magnificent illustration of a dazzle-painted ship (shown above) by Harold Von Schmidt [although, curiously, it is signed on the bottom left by W.H. Bull]. A native of California, Von Schmidt was also connected to Taos, and often contributed artwork to Sunset magazine. What a great find. Please share with others.

Five months earlier, in its July issue, the same magazine had published an unsigned column about Native Americans, the Southwest, and wartime camouflage. Here's the article—

Modern camouflage, the out-door art first practiced by the French and now so effectively developed in the war zone, is, contrary to general belief, an ancient American institution. This fact was proved recently by the driver of a camouflaged Kissel Kar while on a tour through the Indian reservations of the West. They discovered that apart from its modern application, there is little new about the war except its name.

Naturally the weirdly striped automobile created a great deal of interest among the red men, who listened attentively to the explanations of the purpose of the futuristic application of paint. It was noticed, however, that certain of the older Indians seemed to look upon the bizarre creation with unusual passiveness. Then, when some of them finally spoke, it became clear that this startling apparition on wheels embodied an idea that had become outworn with the advance of civilization among the Indian tribes.

As these statements became more frequent, the tourists began to search for data that would prove the American Indian to be the original camoufleur. They learned, among other things, that paint on an Indian’s face and body, as well as on his teepee and other personal possessions, was originally used to secure protective coloring, after the species of camouflage instinctively employed by so many members of the animal kingdom.

One wizened squaw, who had lived through a long period of conflict between her people and the early white men, furnished, through an interpreter, an interesting account of how the Indian children of bygone generations were taught to become skillful in disguises. They learned how to use leaves and flowers and other natural products of the forest and field in their hair and clothing so that they could creep through the woods unseen. They learned to blend their bodies with almost any surroundings in which they found themselves, for protection as well as for the successful stalking of game or enemies.

It was a custom, when a young Indian aspired to the estate of warrior, to test him in his ability to successfully camouflage himself. The tourists were told that one demonstration required was that the ambitious youth approach as closely as possible the assembled warriors without being seen. The skill with which the young buck masked himself, blending his body into the foliage of the woods, probably helped determine his standing as a scout or fighter.

Camouflage—by whatever name it originally went—is no longer practiced by the American Indian. Today it is the pale face who employs this ancient means of protection on an enormous scale. And today, through the selective draft, the young American Indian in khaki is brought into contact, on the fields of France, with the modern development of the primitive art of his fathers.

Lady Camoufleurs Make Camouflage on NY Streets

On this page are two World War I government photographs, showing the contributions of the Camouflage Reserve Corps of the National League for Women's Service. In the photo above they are applying a disruptive camouflage scheme to a War Savings Stamp booth at Broadway and 43rd Street in New York. August 1918. NARA 165-WW-599G-041. At the bottom of this page, they are painting a War Savings Stamp theatre in Times Square, New York, in the same month. NARA 165-WW-599G-016. It had been decided that painting disruptive camouflage schemes on buildings and vehicles was an effective means of attracting a crowd for fundraising and recruiting events. 

 

The first event was described in considerable detail in a news article, reproduced in full below.

 

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Anon, LADY CAMOUFLEURS WORK IN TIMES SQ.: But Their Overalls Give Nary a Thrill to That Blasé Region; PROTECT WSS STAND: Twelve of 'Em Climb Ladders and Paint Right Into the Dusk in the New York Sun, August 21, 1918, p. 2—

Twelve lady artists from Greenwich Village, who are serving their country as captains, lieutenants, sergeants, corporals and privates of the Camouflage Reserve Corps of the National League for Women’s Service [NLWS], passed yesterday afternoon painting a futuristic, or cubistic, mince pie nightmare on the little Thrft Stamp stand in Times Square, so that if a German submarine sails up Broadway or one of Fritz’s Zeppelins comes along dropping bombs on the revellers of the Great White Way the camouflaged stand will just melt away into the surrounding landscape of subway holes and theatrical billboards and the Thrift Stamp cashbox won’t be disturbed.

The twelve ladies were assisted by two Beaux Arts men, members of the shipping board, A[lon] Bement of Columbia University and Artist [Henry] Davenport, who came over from Boston to help boss the job.

Worked to Beat the Moon

The fourteen toiled manfully to finish the chef d’oeuvre before nightfall, because as Captain Myra Hanford of the Camouflage Corps [CC] remarked in a pause of her task of holding the chalk with which the design was marked, the moon was at the full and moonlight nights were just the time the Huns took to make their raid. And with Eddie Cantor of the Follies and Frances Victory of the “Eyes of Youth” and a lot of other talent coming to open the drive for $25,000,000 the CC of the NLWS would never forgive itself if it left that stand unprotected, a target for the Huns.

They toiled manfully, as before stated; lithely the overalled limbs of the ladies skipped up and down the ladders; merrily the paint brushes flirted with the rough boards of the stand. And just as the excitement was at its height along came a painter, just the common garden variety of painter, with a red nose and a pipe and a pail of beer in his hand, and cocked an eye at his lady competitors and spake thus to his mate, an electrician with a coil of wire over his grimy shoulder:

“Them wimmin don’t know how to handle a brush. They pecks at the boards like a canary bird. You wanna hold the brush wit’ a free sort of grasp and make broad strokes.”

“They’re probably workin’ by the piece,” mused the electrician. “Say, ain’t war what Sherman said it was? Wimmin has to put on overalls and climb ladders in Times Square to make the world safe for democracy. Pretty tough.”

On the whole, though, Times Square didn’t pay much attention to the busy band of lady painters. So blase has a suffrage campaign and a year of war students made the Great White Way that a woman in overalls, who would have been mobbed ten years ago, was worth scarcely a passing glance.

A few men stopped and gazed with expressions which said: Good Lord! what is this world coming to? or, If my wife ever does such a thing she’ll hear from me; or, Bully for the nervy dames; or, What’s it all about, anyway, according to their natures; and a few women examined their emancipated sisters with eyes that expressed amusement, admiration, disdain or inanity, all according to their natures; but that was all.

The WSS press agent who prophesied that the police reserves would have to be called out to handle the crowds was sadly disappointed. The crowd at no time was more than one hundred, even counting the two stray dogs that hung around tasting the paint brushes.

The stand is a dinky little affair which some of those zephyrs that whiz around Times Square will probably lift right off of its legs some day, but there’s one thing about it, it represents subway folk without paying for it. For half a dozen husky workmen from the subway excavations around there put it up, in Mr. [Theodore] Shonts’s time, too, and what is more they brought some of Mr. Shonts’s lumber to do it with.

The lumber was covered with posters and bills and things—no, there wasn’t any of Mr. Shonts’s poetry on it—but three nice young soldiers and a sailor and a fat WSS press agent worked hours scraping those posters off. One of Marjorie Rambeau’s eyes and several of the nether limbs of the Dolly Sisters still remained when, early in the afternoon, the twelve members of the Camouflage Corps, in natty khaki suits and caps, arrived with their paint pots and brushes.

There was still time for a lot of scraping, for the CC had to dress. Camouflaged by a rickety screen they performed this operation in a corner of the stand, with the populace gazing hungrily at the screen and waiting for what might come forth.

McMillan, Hand Me a Brush

Various visions came forth and crawled down the ladder. As a matter of fact, not all wore overalls. Private [Helen] Harrison was extremely efficient in a real pair, the kind with straps going over the shoulders and pockets for tools, neat fitting to the legs; but Corporal [Ellen] McMillan, who is youthful and curly haired, was brazenly feminine in a pale blue smock with pink embroidery. But her knickers were sufficiently mannish. Lieut. [Louise] Larned, who was the first to mount the ladder and paint, stuck to her brief khaki skirt. One or two wore artists’ smocks of gray, and one donned a kitchen apron.

Still there was a general effect of overalled feminine limbs clambering up and down. Also the camouflagers called each other by their last names without any handles—“Harrison, are you doing the blue or shall I?” “McMillan, hand me a brush”—and so forth. It had a businesslike sound.

The shades of night had fallen when the stand finally bloomed forth in its startling dress of blue and yellow and white and black, done in highly futuristic patches according to the design drawn by the Shipping Board representatives. And the twelve camouflagers took off their overalls and aprons and picked up their paint pails and marched off to their well earned dinners, musing proudly on the part their work will have in the salesmen’s drive which opens tomorrow, when every membersof the national salesmen’s organization now in New York will start in on a week’s voluntary service service for Uncle Sam and the War Savings Stamps.

Captain. Charles H. McKinney of the Twenty-sixth police precinct is extremely pround of the camouflaged stand. He, it will be remembered, is the knight of the Women Police Reserves, and a champion of the cause of women. He said it was a source of gratification to him that his district, which produced the first women police reserves, also had the distinction of possessing one of the first works of art of the lady camouflagers done in Uncle Sam’s name.

 

Ship Camouflage Cartoon | William Ferguson

Above William Ferguson cartoon (detail) from THIS CURIOUS WORLD series, in the Healdsburg Tribune (No 267), September 23, 1933. Below it was the following text—

The word "camouflage” Is Incorrectly used In speaking of the weird painting used on ships during the war. Officially, the practice was called "dazzle painting,” and its purpose was to cause miscalculations when enemy gunners attempted to torpedo the ship. Large bow waves were sometimes painted on the hull to give the appearance of terrific speed.

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J.H. Richardson, SPEED IS WATCHWORD AT HARBOR SHIPYARDS. Los Angeles Herald (No 228), July 25, 1918, p. 22 [excerpt]—

…A few hundred feet away, at one of the “fitting out” wharves, was a vessel practically completed. Men were swung from the sides of the ship painting the hull in camouflage colors. Black stripes, big spots of blue, specks of white and dabs of red, as if it were the canvas of a futuristic artist.…