the tragic life of a taxidermist, camoufleur and convict

Above An assemblage by Romainian surrealist Viktor Brauner (1903-1966), titled Wolf Table (using taxidermy bits from a fox, not a wolf), 1939. Other than their shared interest in taxidermy, there is no explicit connection between Brauner and the story of Arthur J. Coleman below.

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In the 1921 Indianapolis city directory, Arthur J. Coleman is listed as a taxidermist (he was the curator at the Indiana Statehouse Museum) and a custodian, with the home address of 337 South State Avenue. James A. Coleman, his father, shared the same residence, as did Arthur’s mother, Nancy S. Coleman.

In connection with his museum position, Coleman was allowed to carry a gun, a revolver in a shoulder holster. In May 1920, he and three companions (including an eighteen-year-old woman named Floy Minck) were returning to Indianapolis at night, when Coleman, who was driving, noticed that an automobile tire was blocking the road. When he stopped to look more closely, he saw that a rope was attached to the tire, and that it was being pulled off from the side. He heard voices in the dark, and saw six men approaching the car. He drew his revolver and fired two rounds. The men fled and Coleman hurriedly drove off.

In September 1920, Floy Edna Minck (1902-1976) married an Indianapolis carpenter named Bernard B. Bartlett. Ten months later, Arthur J. Coleman married a young woman (the same age as Minck) named Elizabeth (Libby) Schmitter. In November of that same year, there was a jury trial in Indianapolis, in which Coleman was accused of threatening to kill Bartlett, because of a dispute about “a girl whom Bartlett later married” (presumably Floy Minck Bartlett). The jury could not agree on a verdict.

Coleman’s marriage to Libby Schwitter Coleman was an unfortunate pairing. It was troubled from the start, and they agreed to separate at the end of the first year. Coleman moved to New Harmony IN, on the Wabash River, while his wife lived twenty miles west in Crossville IL. They had lived apart for about a year, when, according to Coleman, he received a phone message and a letter from his wife, suggesting that they talk about living together again.

On April 26, 1923, Coleman (this is based on his account) drove to Crossville, to talk to his wife about reconciliation at a house where she was then staying (apparently owned by someone named Jeff Young). When he entered the front door, he was struck on the head from behind and fell to the floor unconscious. When he regained consciousness (he testified), he was lying in a room, with a revolver in his hand. His own revolver was still in his shoulder holster. Nearby was the body of his dead wife, who had died from three or four bullet wounds. In a 1923 news article, it was noted (without explanation) that the owner of the house, Jeff Young, is “an inmate of a hospital for the insane in Illinois.” It was also claimed that a man (unnamed) who was in the house at the time of the shooting had “left immediately and was away from [that area] for a year.”

Despite Coleman’s account of what happened, he was arrested at the site for his wife’s murder, and jailed in Carmi, the county seat. On the day after his arrest, his mother visited him at the jail. She later said: “When I pulled Arthur’s head down to kiss him, I felt a bump on his head and noticed blood on my hand as I left the jail.” But that injury was not mentioned in the documentation for his appeal.

Coleman said that, while he was in jail for three weeks, awaiting his court appearance, the sheriff brought a “professional hangman” to his cell, to describe the agony of dying that way. He was then taken to a window, and shown where the scaffolding would be built. He was told: “That’s where we will stretch your damned neck.” He was also warned about the horror of being lynched if an angry mob would storm the jail.

Coleman later described his condition, while awaiting his court date, as being “sick and nervous.” Inspite of having no memory of the shooting, he decided to plead guilty (to avoid the death penalty) when he appeared before a judge on May 19. He was then sentenced to life in prison for a term of ninety-nine years. He spent the next 21 years at the Illinois state prison at Joliet as well as on a prison farm.

[So what does any of this have to do with camouflage? Aha, I thought you’d never ask.]

It seems that during his confinement, Coleman continued his interest in taxidermy, including animal camouflage, sculpture, landscape design, and museum exhibitions. Various people, including other inmates, congressmen, and well-known citizens (soprano Mary Garden being one) spoke in favor of his work. He was permitted to open a shop inside the prison, and “because of his genius,” a campaign was started to allow him to be pardoned. It did not succeed.

When the US entered World War II, following the attack on Pearl Harbor, there was a further effort to secure Coleman's release in exchange for advising the army on wartime camouflage. An article described him as “one of the best camouflage artists in the United States.” According to another account, he was “a nationally-known taxidermist and artist” who has “taken up camouflaging” and whose “services were wanted to help camouflage coast artillery batteries.” But that appeal was also denied.

In the end, Arthur J. Coleman was not pardoned, but he was released on parole on July 27, 1944, having served 21 years of his life sentence. Thereafter, he earned his living as a professional taxidermist. As late as April 1960, he owned a taxidermy shop (specializing in “game fish and big game mounts”) in Boca Raton FL. 

Below is the most complete source of information about Coleman's life, consisting of two pages in the Indianapolis Times, September 12, 1932, pp. 1 and 3.

SEE ALSO

Nature, Art, and Camouflage (35 min. video talk)

Art, Women’s Rights, and Camouflage (29 min. video talk)

Embedded Figures, Art, and Camouflage (26 min. video talk)

Art, Gestalt, and Camouflage (28 min. video talk)

fires in American camouflage section buildings in WWI

Moulin de la Galette, Paris

GASOLINE EXPLODES IN CAMOUFLAGE SCHOOL in Seward Gateway Daily Edition (Seward AK), February 2, 1918, p. 4—

PARIS, Feb. 2—A gasoline can exploded this morning as some American soldiers were filling an automobile tank at the famous Moulin de la Galette dancing hall [as pictured above], now used as a camouflage school for the American army. The tank also exploded and two American soldiers were seriously wounded.

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OFFICIAL PAPERS BURNED Mice and Matches Blamed for Fire in Washington, in Indianapolis News (Indianapolis IN), April 6, 1918, p. 9—

WASHINGTON, April 6—Fire of unknown origin last night destroyed the upper floor of a building near the great State, War and Navy Building [as pictured below], occupied by the Navy Bureau of Construction and Repair and the Camouflage Section. Some supplies and papers were burned, but the damage is said to be insignificant.

No one was in the building except a watchman, who thought the flames started in a piles of papers beneath a stairway, and that mice and matches probably were responsible.

State, War and Navy Building, Washington DC

lamb[l]ast / a lone wolf in snow-covered surroundings

WWII Finnish troops in snow-covered surrounding

There is a wartime Boston news report (December 1944) which features an American artist named Nathaniel J[udah] Jacobson (1916-1996), who was a US Army camoufleur. Originally from Boston, he had studied painting at the School of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, MIT, and at Yale University, where he earned a BFA degree in 1941.

When the US entered World War II at the end of 1941, Jacobson enlisted. In 1944, while stationed in Europe, he was a contributor to the development of white cape coverings for infantry in snow-covered surroundings on the border of Belgium and Germany.

His involvement in all this was reported in the Boston Globe on December 14, 1944, in an article with the headline BOSTON ARTIST AIDS IN SAVING GIS BY SLICK CAMOUFLAGE WORK (pp. 1-2), in which Jacobson is described as being the “boss of fifty Belgian girls as a factory supervisor in a First Army camouflage unit.”

While encamped in the Hurtgen Forest, the American infantry was unprepared for the sudden first snowfall, which left them “unduly exposed to enemy fire against the white background…” As a result, "camouflage engineers were called and given seven days to produce. It meant seven days in which to design, obtain materials, obtain labor and manufacture concealing [white] snow capes for all frontline troops.” Within 24 hours, a factory had been set up, laborers had been hired, and thread and muslin were flown in. “Within 36 hours the first snow cape was rattled off the production line.”

As for Private Jacobson, his “part of the job was training the help, mostly Belgian girls, ironing out the production bottlenecks, and [in] general speeding up” the process. “He did this job with such good effect that by the end of the fifth day—two days ahead of schedule—the much-needed capes were on their way to the boys whose lives depended on them.”

…”Factory jobs are curiously incongruous for many of the men of this battalion, which comprises in addition to the Boston artist [Jacobsen], landscape artisans, cameramen, advertising layout men and former movie directors. Incidently, they camouflaged [the insulated clothing of this correspondent (reporter Iris Carpenter)] against pneumonia—she hopes—a sheepskin coat which they have spotched brown and olive on the skin side. If snow falls she will wear the wool side out and risk observation by nothing more dangerous than the GIs.“

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One week after that article was published, a second news report (written by Hal Boyle) appeared in the Times-Mirror (Warren PA), in which Private First Class Jacobson (apparently newly promoted) is described as “discontented” with his job, and is quoted very candidly. According to him, “I got this job—which I don’t like—because I had picked up some French out of a phrase book and was able to tell the girls what we wanted done.”

“I never even worked in a clothing factory before—never wanted to,” he adds. “…And here I am running one. You sure do strange things in the Army.”

The young Belgian women he supervises, he continued, “…are just like American girls. They never stop talking. And the way they spend their money! One girls just paid 900 francs for a pair of shoes—three weeks salary for one pair of shoes!

They have been going to some American army dances. That’s what they talk about most all day long. They are envious of American girls because they heard American girls could go to dances alone. Here, even if she is 25 years old, a girl can’t go to a dance unless her parents come along, too.”

Looking “moodily” at “the happy humming girls” in his workforce, Jacobson explains: “I am a happily married man—this is no place for me. They should put a single man on this job. But I guess that’s why they put me here—because I am an old married man—and not a wolf.”

In contrast, his asistant and co-worker, Private Donavan Mccomber from Radcliff OH, glanced over the factory workroom, whistled cheerfully, and said:

“Well, so we got to work in a roomful of girls. It ain’t so bad. I can think of a lot worse ways to win the war.”

•••

Following the war, Jacobson returned to the Boston area, became a research associate at MIT, and embarked on long-term art-and-science color research, including responses to color, and computer modeling. He continued to paint and exhibit, and, in 1975, published a book on color, titled The Sense of Color: A Portfolio in Visuals (Van Nostrand Reinhold).

American Impressionism / Provincetown Camouflage

Below Photograph (c1919) of American artist George Elmer Browne (1871-1946), a Massachusetts-based painter who studied at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, and at the Academie Julian in Paris. He was associated with American Impressionists, such as Edmund Tarbell, Frank W. Benson, and Joseph DeCamp. Reproduced above is one of his finest impressionist paintings (Harbor Scene with Fishing Boats, 1910, Smithsonian American Art Museum). Born in Gloucester MA, around 1918 he acquired 162 Commercial Street in Provincetown, which served as his studio and the West End School of Art. Detailed information can be found online here and here.

In the following news article, it is claimed that Browne had been involved in “camouflage work” for the US Government during World War I, presumably as a civilian, and most likely in connection with ship camouflage.

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CAMOUFLAGE FOR UGLY STANDPIPE TO CHANGE IT TO A THING OF BEAUTY Noted Provincetown Artist Evolves Own Ingenious Plan For Eliminating Unpleasantness From Landscape, in Boston Globe, November 4, 1931—

PROVINCETOWN, Nov 3—Fastidious about its landscape since it has become an art center, Provincetown will have what is thought to be the first camouflaged standpipe in the United States.

Thanks to the initiative and ingenuity of George Elmer Browne, famous artist, the town's new standpipe, instead of being painted black like the old one, will receive a tricky blend of colors, which will render it almost invisible.

The sand dune on which the standpipe is built will melt into the base of the iron structure, as will the shrubery and foliage; then the color will blend upwards into sky tones and cloud tones, so that instead of an eyesore crowning the landscape, a very necessary object will be so painted that it will appear as a thing of beauty.

According to artist Browne, the standpipe will be invisible except when it stands out against the sun, and even then it will not be a very bold silhouette.

At the present time, two standpipes occupy the hill, but the old one, long an eyesore, marring the view of the town from the harbor and detracting from the grandeur of tie towering Pilgrim Monument on Town Hill, will soon come down.

Mr Browne’s studio commands an unobstructed view of the hill of the standpipes. When the new and larger one went up, he began to study the problem of avoiding the uglification.

Having done camouflage work for the Government during the war, he devised his color scheme and presented it to the Town Water Commissioners, with designs worked out in oil.

The artist, at their request, then presented the Commissioners with a scale model of the pipe, from which areas to be colored could be figured.

In coloring the big standpipe. the painters will work from a small sheet iron model. The model is now in the hands of the contractors.

Everett C. Hammond / WWI Boston-area camoufleur

Until a few days ago, I had never heard of a Boston-area artist named Everett C. Hammond, who served as a camoufleur during World War I. While described in newspapers at the time as a “portrait painter” and “well-known local artist,” his artistic expertise seems questionable if judged by the lackluster quality of the single drawing found so far. Reproduced above, it was made while he was serving as a US Army camoufleur in France, and was included as part of a letter to his sister in Boston (as described below in this post). At the time he made this drawing, he appears to have had little training in art—it is amateur at best.

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CORP HAMMOND TELLS OF CAMOUFLAGE WORK, in Boston Evening Globe, February 12, 1919, p. 9—

Corp. Everett C. Hammond, 1st Army Camouflage Service, a Cambridge man and well-known local artist, called at the local army headquarters today for final orders and to pay his respects to [Major] General [Clarence Ransom] Edwards [ranked last in his class at West Point in 1883].

Corp. Hammond went over seas with the 101st Engineers. He was a member of the old 1st Corps of Cadets when it changed to the engineer regiment. When he was overseas a short time, some one in authority learned that he was quite an artist, or rather “that he could paint” and he was shifted to the Camouflage School for further training in natural colors, etc. Then he was assigned to active duty on the fighting fronts, and went through every campaign. He, with others, would lay long stripes of burlap on the ground and paint them so that it would appear like grass or a natural science, when it was stretched over a battery of artillery that was hammering away at the enemy.

He was in every battle of the famed 26th Division [known as the Yankee Division, as commanded by General Edwards], although his official headquarters at all times was at Dijon. He declared that it quite an exploit, and certainly a dangerous and thrilling one, to first paint and then erect the disguises for the guns in the most active sectors.

He is the first of the camouflage men to report to the local offices, and his flaming yellow sleeve designation [a chameleon emblem], underneath a big blue A, excited curiosity.

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BOSTON ARTIST AS CAMOUFLEUR / E.C. Hammond Had Narrow Escape While Hiding Guns With Brush, in Boston Sunday Advertiser and American, March 1919, p. W-7—

More camouflage!

If the war has taught us anything, it has certainly acquainted us thoroughly with the art of camouflage. First it was used In concealing batteries, then to foil the U-boats, and finally came to peaceful pursuits, such as making certain things appear in a somewhat different light than might be otherwise construed—especially the truth.

Our story deals entirely with the first phase of the art—making raging, destructive batteries appear like harmless and aesthetic spots of nature. Something like the demon behind the man with the smiling face.

But now hear a real camouflage artist tell of bona fide camouflage. Listen to descriptions of this art in its original element, and incidentally a few other experiences of this expert camoufeur.

Boston Portrait Painter
By way of introduction, our artist is Corporal Everett C. Hammond. A Boston portrait painter. The war afforded him an opportunity to transfer his peaceful activity to a more fiery environment and he was quick to take advantage of it—enlisting two days after this country declared war. He has just returned to his home in Cambridge—with a thorough training in camouflage, but with an utter ignorance of "Camouflage."

His dally duties perfected him in the former art, but his schooling in the latter has been sadly neglected owing to the association with many clean, manly fellows, whose knowledge on that subject was meagre.

Hammond was among the first camoufleurs to be chosen by the government for this important work abroad. His highly developed training in done colors and natural features of landscapes qualified him for this branch of service with such men as [Homer] Saint-Gaudens, [F. Earl] Christy and [Barry] Faulkner, modern artists of wide popularity.

Was at Seicheprey
He was first with the 101st Engineers, with whom he served at the battle of Seicheprey [on April 20, 1918] and later with the 40th Engineers. Shortly before the battle of Seicheprey his company was engaged in constructing a camouflaged machine gun emplacement which they had half completed when the Boche shelling began. They were forced to abandon this work hurriedly, but not before two of their number had been killed and several wounded. After returning they found this position had been effectively shelled.

Hammond was later placed in charge of the camouflage work of the 130th Field Artillery, which used 75’s and 135mm guns. This unit was particularly active in the Toul sector between Gezencourt and Martincourt.

700 Women Helpers
About 700 French women were engaged during the war in making camouflage materials for the American government. This was done in Nancy and Dijon. Burlap was used principally and was prepared by a coloring process in which numerous natural colors were used. After being dried it was cut into uneven pieces and tied on chicken wire, having the appearance of the vibration and natural color of a grass field.

The colors were selected according to the particular environment, and when the structure was erected about a battery the blend served to conceal it from the enemy.

Each battery occupied an area about 100 feet long and 25 feet wide. This was entirely covered with camouflage raised to a height of twenty feet from the ground. It was done by means of posts surrounding the area at a distance of ten feet apart. These in turn were covered by the vast stretch of burlap colored according to the fields. At a distance this looked like a natural bank. The same was true from above and was indiscernible to the aviator's eye.

Camouflage While You Wait
The extensive operations were not carried on during a quick drive. In such case all guns carried forward their network consisting of burlap and fishnet. The latter was often covered with branches, leaves, etc. In quick drives a gun could be camouflaged in about thirty minutes. Along the established lines it required weeks and often months to construct the camouflage shelter.

The position of batteries were determined by the amount of natural protection, particularly near banks. They were often placed near brush, the effect of the shrubbery being carried out.

Hammond had several narrow escapes, among which was an incident when returning from the inspection of a camouflaged battery. Enemy guns wore searching out the territory, and as he crossed a barren field that section suddenly became the center of the foe's fire. He quickly sprang to a shell hole and was astonished when a dog, evidently a company mascot, came close to his heels. Both remained there until the guns ceased firing.

Another Narrow Escape
Later while he was discussing the camouflage of a certain battery with a comrade a large fragment of shell whizzed by his ear.

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SENDS PENCIL SKETCH OF CHAPLAIN EDWARDS, in Boston Post, April 21 1918, p. 12—

Miss Gladys E. Hammond of 241 Upham Road, Cambridge, received a letter yesterday from her brother, Everett C. Hammond of A Company, 101st Engineers, which contained a pencil sketch of Chaplain Edwards• addressing the men of the regiment before their departure for the front.

“My brother wrote,” said Miss Hammond, “that the engineers have been busy building miles of barbed wire entanglements, doing the work at night. He said that the work would keep the men busy for a long time. This letter was written March 12.”

The sketch shows Chaplain Edwards at the front of the colors, addressing the men. A line under the sketch, quoted as Chaplain Edwards’ words, reads: “I am going to commence the service this morning by reading a poem.”

•This appears to be an error, since I have yet to find any reference to a chaplain named Edwards in the Yankee Division, whereas the unit’s commander was Major General C.R. Edwards. Perhaps the two have been confused.

snake-like sinuous piping / Mark Booth camouflage art

Tgrit © Mark Booth 2016

Recently I ran across the artwork of an Australian artist named Mark Booth. In 2021, he completed the research requirements for a Master of Fine Arts degree at The University of New South Wales. His thesis, titled Sculpture as Artifice: Mimetic Form in the Environment, can be found at his website along with detailed images of related projects.

Among the works you’ll find online is the one reproduced above, a sculpture titled Tigrit (2016). It was made from PVC pipe (commonly used for plumbing) which was covered with a camouflage-patterned vinyl wrap, then mounted on a wall, on a background that consists of a flat version of the same disruption scheme.

In his thesis, Booth refers to this and comparable works as “snake-like sinuous piping.” Many of us—presumably most—have a degree of aversion to snakes, and yet they are also astonishing, in part because their complicated patterns interfere effectively with the challenge of tracking their movements.

When I saw this initially, I thought of online images of a venomous gaboon viper reclining on a forest floor in sub-Saharan Africa. I wouldn’t like to step on that. Or, in the ranks of the nonvenomous, one cannot help but be impressed by the bewildering surface designs on ball pythons (called that because, when threatened, they coil up into a tight ball for protection).

But there are other things that also quickly spring to mind when confrontlng Mark Booth’s sculpture. After all, PVC is plumbing pipe, so it hardly surprising to think of the large intestines or the bowels. At that point scatology raises its head, and who knows where that path might lead.

This work also caught my eye because a few years ago, while making a series of digital montages, I inavertently ended up with Wind Instrument (reproduced below), that was probably inspired by the vagaries of bathroom jokes. Alimentary, my dear Watson.

For a closer look at Mark Booth’s work, visit his Instagram account. There is also online a selection of short, informative videos here.

In the meantime, given that this item originates from Australia, perhaps it would be fitting to mention Tasmania, the famed Australian island state. Here is an newspaper clipping, titled "Artists and Camouflage," as published in the Advocate (Burnie, Tasmania), on July 21, 1937—

“The problem of camouflage in war can only be solved with your help,” said Air Chief Marshall Sir Cyril Newall in addressing the painters at the Royal Academy banquet. “It is notable, however, that it is the academic and orthodox artist who is helping. At first glance we should have expected more help from the unorthodox—the surrealists, super-modernists, post-post-impressionists, post-mortem impressionists, or whatever you call them. These artists appear to me, as a layman, to misrepresent rather than represent the subjects they work upon.” 

Wind Instrument © Roy R. Behrens 2022

 

was ship camouflage determined by artistic trends?

dazzle camouflage

Steen Eiler Rasmussen, Experiencing Architecture. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1964, p. 93—

Two years later [in 1917] the British navy went in for something they called dazzle painting. With the help of black, white and blue paint laid on in abstract figures the great gray battleships were transformed so thoroughly that it was impossible to tell bow from stern or make out contours or shapes. The heavy hulls became light and airy in their new harlequin dress. Incidentally, it is remarkable to see how strongly this painting—seemingly laid on quite at random—was determined by the artistic idiom of the day. This becomes apparent when it is compared with the camouflage painting of the second world war. Where before the colors had been bright they were now muddy, and instead of the straight lines and triangles of the early camouflage there were now sinuous outlines and undulating shapes. 

NOTE: There are two misleading statements in this paragraph: It is suggested that dazzle painting patterns were "laid out quite at random," which may have been true in some small number of cases but certainly not in most. Second, it may or may not be the case that ship camouflage "was determined [a better word is "influenced"] by the artistic idiom of the day" (although that is commonly claimed). In our collection, we may have more photographs of disruptively-camouflaged ships from WWII than from WWI. See also this short video on "embedded figures" in relation to ship camouflage.