all who wander are not lost

Jefferson

The Players, founded in 1911. This club house was built in 1926.

William E. Kapp: Architect

Corrado Parducci: Stone Sculptor

Paul Honore: Muralist

Sixteenth century English Renaissance.

Continuous use as a playhouse throughout its entire history.

The row of grotesques along the top of the facade are designed by Corrado Parducci, but these are not the originals.

The restoration people were able to locate Mr. Parducci’s original molds, and these were recast from those. Only one original remains, and that is kept upstairs by the fireplace.

First thing, greeted with a really cool iridescent glazed Pewabic tile with the Players mask on it.

Hand stenciled ceilings, throughout almost the entire building. All the formal areas, at least.

Bar service

Old school ladies “powder room”.

This is the front entry.

One of the most amazing staircases you will see in Detroit ~

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

William Shakespeare
(As You Like It 2:7)

These framed caricatures are all through the building. One is made for each cast, every year – all the way back to the beginning.

Constellations on the ceiling of the staircase.

This is the formal room in the Players Club, just gorgeous – and very similar to Scarab Club.

Tomorrows post will be the theater and the newly renovated Paul Honore mural. (one of 6 was restored. $2000.00 price tag for each painting to be done.)