The Padorama, an immersive journey from Manchester to Liverpool in 1834: Part 2 Brooklyn & New York

In the summer of 1834 an innovative moving panorama of the Liverpool & Manchester Railway called the Padorama was displayed in the Baker Street Bazaar, London (see Part 1). The exhibition there was not, however, the end of the story. As Richard Altick (1978) first described, the Padorama unexpectedly saw a second lease of life in Brooklyn.

A move to Brooklyn, Long Island

An unknown purchaser supposedly paid $30000, the equivalent of $1M at present day values, for the Padorama in London and shipped it to Brooklyn, Long Island in the USA. If this figure is accurate it presumably reflects a very significant financial transaction. However, neither the vendor nor the purchaser is known, nor what exactly was bought. Did the purchase simply cover the twelve images or did it include the foreground, trains, mechanism and steam engine? It seems unlikely (but not impossible) that the rotunda was shipped as well.

Guillen (2018) has provided a detailed analysis of Frederick Catherwood’s panorama business from its inception in 1838 to its fire-associated demise in 1842. The six static panorama paintings he purchased from Robert Burford cost $1000 each. Burford had cachet not dissimilar to Stanfield and unless a premium was being paid for the models and machinery it is hard to see how the Padorama could have cost more than $10000, possibly significantly less. However, as we shall see, the cost may have included the services of an engineer to assemble and maintain the Padorama.

George Odell in his Annals of the New York Stage quotes the Star newspaper (presumably the Long Island Star) in announcing the display in 1835 of the panorama (I will also use the original name) in a specially built building 70 ft long. The same source mentions the size of the proscenium so it seems likely that this was a second purpose-built home for the Padorama and presumably rectangular rather than circular in layout.

It is unclear whether Messrs Marshall exported panoramas to the US and it is not known whether Marshall’s in fact owned the Padorama, their name being conspicuously absent from the advertising. Indeed, it may be that the sponsors of the production (I speculated that these, if any, might be the “Liverpool men”) retained ownership and undertook the sale. The identity of the purchaser is even more obscure and does not appear on advertising in the Long Island Star newspaper.

Indeed, regular advertisements for the panorama appeared in the Long Island Star but without mention of the proprietors' (NB plural) names. The panorama was described as being upwards of 20000 square feet with a railroad fixed in front of the picture. Trains run at intervals to provide “one of the most complete illusions ever attempted.” Opening hours were 3-9pm (it had been afternoon-only initially), entry 50 cents adults, 25 cents children, with illustrated book 12.5 cents. The admission price halved towards the end of the run when opening hours changed to 10-1, 3-9 and a note was added to the effect that an omnibus was available at Fulton Street at the top of Pierrepont Street, presumably connecting with the Fulton Ferry.

The change in admission price may have been an attempt to make the panorama more affordable and hence open to a broader class of persons as well as encouraging repeat attendance. Increasingly inclement weather may also have led to reduced attendance and a need for greater flexibility. Guillen (2018) reports that attendance at Catherwood’s panorama fluctuated considerably especially with national holidays and that his building was subject to temperature extremes, something addressed in part by the introduction of heating.

The change to proscenium format

The unknown purchaser apparently both changed to a lateral rather than circular format and increased the canvas size, supposedly by 50%. This may have included greater height (24 vs ~18 ft) as well as inclusion of additional views. How much of this was intended in advance is unclear but it presumably explains in part the launch delay which was nearer eight weeks than the two originally envisaged.

Huhtamo (2013) suggests that Marshall’s produced panoramas that could be used in either format. Muddying the waters slightly, he also observes that a proscenium might be used with a curved moving panorama.

Location in Brooklyn and its significance

The panorama was situated at the foot of Pierpont Street, presumably on the banks of the East River at the end of what is now Pierrepont Street named for resident Hezekiah Beers Pierrepoint. Street directories of the time show a panorama at the junction of Pierrepont Street and Columbia Street and a map of 1835 shows a large building, possibly the panorama, on the west side of Columbia Street directly adjacent to the bluff.

If indeed it is the panorama, its shape is consistent with a lateral rather than circular display although, of course, small curved panoramas were displayed in rectangular venues such as Spring Gardens, London. It is unfortunate that the depth of the building is not mentioned but plausible perhaps that a circular rotunda might approach perilously close to the bluffs.

Unfortunately, elements of the map look prospective. For example, Constable Street, later Montague Place, appears to run through the mansion known as Four Chimneys, the residence of the Pierrepont family and demolished in 1846 after HB Pierrepont’s death. Moreover, although Pierrepont owned land on either side of Pierrepont Street, land further to the north was owned by Samuel Jackson about whom little is known by comparison beyond the fact that there was a wharf on the foreshore which he rented to Hicks for the lumber trade. Nevertheless, this is a plausible location for the panorama.

Pierrepont only allowed brick buildings on his estate unlike that housing the panorama, another reason to suppose that it was not on Pierrepont’s land although, of course, this may only have been a temporary venue and hence an exception made.

The term Padorama did not cross the Atlantic and there are no references either to the mechanographicorama or disynthrechon although it is possible that these were retained in the books but not the advertising. These obscure neologisms were rendered in the US simply as “moving panorama” which presumably is something people understood rather than necessarily reflecting a change in presentation.

Motivation

In the absence of any hard evidence, here are some suggestions as to possible developers of the Brooklyn panorama.

Pierrepont

Around 1835 HB Pierrepont was attempting to promote Brooklyn and, in particular parcels on his estate, as desirable homes for people who would commute to the city by ferry. Accordingly, the panorama might have been conceived as a means of attracting people to visit the location, a pleasant spot for a walk in any case. However, if the panorama is outwith the Pierrepont estate then this seems less likely.

Pierrepont had a possible connection with the early panoramas in Paris via his friendship with the inventor Robert Fulton. However, the railroad was arguably of marginal benefit to his own enterprise and his family does not appear to have been involved in railroad projects at this time although available information is limited.

Railway interests

Another possibility, as in London, is that the intention was to promote local railways, the first on Long Island being constructed at this time. The Brooklyn and Jamaica Railroad opened on 18 April 1836 and ran from nearby South Ferry which provided a steamboat link to Manhattan. As with Liverpool and Manchester, no locomotives were initially allowed on the streets of Brooklyn and so the first part of the 11 mile journey to Jamaica was horse-drawn (it would later use locomotives in a tunnel). The line was quickly leased to the Long Island Railroad which continues in name to the present day and is the busiest commuter line in the USA as well as having the oldest name.

The railroad would likely have had direct or indirect contact with Liverpool. For example, it sourced its rails from there.

As in London, it seems unlikely that shareholders would sanction such expenditure so it might have been the act of a group of wealthy individuals connected to the project.

A cultural centre for Brooklyn

The Padorama might have been mounted by one or more persons seeking to promote some kind of cultural activity in Brooklyn and doubtless many of the better-off locals would have visited. However, this overall aim seems unlikely given the temporary nature of the exhibit and the relatively short run.

Vanderlyn’s ill-fated static panorama, the first in New York City, was sponsored by 142 subscribers who raised $8000 and it also benefited from a peppercorn rent (Guillen, 2018).

A panorama distribution company

Whereas Messrs Marshall initially both produced and toured their own panoramas, the trend since the death of their founder may have been to outsource the arduous touring aspect. However, this does not explain the sale of the panorama immediately after the end of the run unless, of course, there were financial pressures.

A relative of Samuel Jackson

Frederick Catherwood, who would later have a panorama building on Broadway, had a business partner or possibly agent called George W Jackson. Little is known of Jackson and the possession of the same family name may be coincidental but it is also possible that his relative Samuel allowed George to engage in some panorama speculation on his land free of charge for a short time before Catherwood’s arrival in the USA. There are both Samuel and George Jacksons in the Hicks genealogy but these are common names.

An entertainment entrepreneur

A final possibility worth considering is that this was an initiative by a New York panorama business hoping to cash in on the new railroad and summer visitors to the Heights as well as trial the technology behind the Padorama. A walk along the foreshore and a view from the Heights would make a nice weekend excursion for New Yorkers who might also be inclined to spend 30 minutes viewing the Padorama.

However, New York would be surely be a better location, plus the paucity of newspaper advertising beyond the Star is odd although perhaps adverts were placed on the streets and ferries rather than the papers. The delay in getting the show operational may have proven fatal to any long-term plans. As an aside, Pierrepont’s wife loved the area but complained it was mosquito-infested.

Last days at Brooklyn Heights

According to Odell, the Padorama closed in November 1835 but had provided the sole delight for his report in the autumn Star. The 7 January 1836 edition of The Herald announced that after a delay due to fire (at the auction house presumably) the sale of the Padorama (which it calls the Grand Moving Panorama of the Manchester and Liverpool Railroad) together with the building, fixtures and galleries (presumably tiered seating).

Manhattan transfer: Niblo’s Garden

An advert in the Evening Post provides a clue to the next stage of the Padorama story. The 13 July 1836 issue refers to “a grand moving panorama of the Liverpool and Manchester Rail Road, the largest in the world”, and the 7th October issue states it “cost in London 30000 dollars”. It covered 50000 sq ft (surely an exaggeration?), required a steam engine to work it (as expected) and was “painted by the best artists in Europe under the very celebrated Stansfield (sic)”. The location was Niblo’s Garden on Broadway. Advertising claimed it was the largest moving panorama in the world and that it had been assembled (and presumably maintained and possibly operated) by a Mr Hitchings who had accompanied the panorama to the US.

This high class pleasure garden owned by William Niblo opened in 1828 and boasted a theatre and saloon. It had shown two peristrephic panoramas sourced from Messrs Marshall in the early 1830s. Niblo’s Garden was not the only venue showing panoramas in New York but was a singularly large one that could if necessary accommodate another building on a temporary basis. Previous moving panoramas had been displayed in the saloon but presumably the Padorama was both too large and too loud. On balance Niblo’s acquisition perhaps argues against the involvement of any New York panorama venue in the Brooklyn venture or presumably the venue would have shown it themselves. Clearly Niblo also believed that he was serving a different audience to that in Brooklyn.

Initially the Padorama was open both day and evening but by October it was only open 7-10pm due to the expense incurred with the engine. Niblo’s Garden had gas lights in its garden so presumably gas was used for the panorama as well.

Last days

An advert dated 18 August 1837 indicates that a new moving panorama had been installed at Niblo’s Garden. Again, no mention is made as to the theme nor, unsurprisingly, the fate of the old one.

Assuming other panoramas had not been shown in the meantime, a year would have been a long time for a panorama to be on view in a single location, suggesting that it was popular despite the extra operating cost. Niblo’s Garden was a carefully crafted and somewhat exclusive leisure experience for middle-class New Yorkers with satellite hotel and in-house stagecoach. It seems unlikely that an underperforming attraction would be tolerated, even if not a headliner (fireworks were a major attraction). It seems reasonable to assume that the Padorama had merit even if the novelty of its subject had inevitably diminished over time.

Who bought the Padorama from Brooklyn?

The obvious answer is William Niblo. Niblo’s advertising on previous occasions had made clear that he had obtained a panorama at considerable personal expense. On the other hand that claim is notably absent in this case.

Another possible purchaser is English emigrant painter William Sinclair who had previously shown two of his own panoramas at Niblo’s Garden, one of which toured subsequently to Baltimore. Perhaps Sinclair rented space at Niblo’s to display panoramas he either owned or rented. Guillen’s analysis of Catherwood’s business appears to show that there were continuing monthly costs on the panoramas he had purchased for his establishment which was just across the road from Niblo’s.

Gaps in our knowledge and possible resolution?

How and why the Padorama crossed the Atlantic remains a mystery. Did an American see it in London and spot an opportunity? It seems hard to believe that it was bought sight unseen.

What was the cause of the costly delay in Brooklyn? Why was there a shift to a proscenium presentation and why was the canvas made bigger still? While it had use in marketing, a large canvas would be more awkward to transport.

At the other end of its run, what happened to the Padorama in summer 1836? Although static panoramas sometimes moved on to other cities on the eastern seaboard (Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Charleston) there is as yet no evidence that this one toured any further and its infrastructure requirements would in any case have made that challenging. Perhaps it was a technological one-off, an interesting thing of its own time but ultimately an unremunerative dead-end once the railway revolution was in full flood.

One might imagine that the canvas itself would have become worn over time and rapidly deteriorated further in storage prior to ultimate disposal. The models, however, may have had some value and one can imagine their being cherished family heirlooms, at least for a time.

What is signally missing, however, is any record of pertinent lived experience of New Yorkers or Brooklynites of the time. Many will have kept personal diaries and some of these are available but not as full text that can be readily searched online.

Conclusion

For a brief point in time the Liverpool & Manchester Railway captured the global imagination and promised a step change in mobility that would have a profound impact on people’s lives, both at work and leisure. As Messrs Marshall would doubtless contend, the best way to experience its effect on time and space short of a visit in person was to watch it spool past on the Padorama, a technological (and artistic) response to a technological feat. The net effect was perhaps to go some way to making the railroad marvel more of an everyday experience at a time when it still elicited a degree of fear and uncertainty in some quarters.