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Vaudeville:
From the Honky-tonks to the Palace
VAUDEVILLE
FROM THE
HONKY-TONKS
HENRTHOLT AND CO
NEW YORK
A N *
I
TO THE
PALACE
by JOE
LA URIE,
JB.
coauthor of
Show Bix From Vaude to Video
Copyright, 1953, by Joe Laurie, Jr.
Ml rights reserved, including the right to reproduce
this book or portions thereof in any form.
Published simultaneously in the Dominion of Canada by George J.
McLeod, Ltd.
First Edition
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 53-9590
Printed in the United States of America
TO MY DAD-
who loved me when I couldn't even act— much less write
Twenty years ago my friend Joe Laurie, Jr., told me that he wanted,
more than anything else, to write the history of vaudeville. As-
suredly he would be the one to do this work competently, for he
had been a bright young star at the time when vaudeville and its
glorious people brought us our happiest contacts with the world
of entertainment.
Laurie, as almost everyone knows, is as clever as he is lovable,
and when vaudeville engagements succumbed to the motion pic-
ture and to other factors of change, he turned his talents to radio.
To no one's surprise, he became a star of the air. This success, to-
gether with Laurie's duties as a Variety columnist, coauthor of
Show Biz, and special article writer, seemed to sidetrack the work
on vaudeville history. But always there persisted in Laurie's mind
the wish to do this history. Now it has been accomplished, and in
these pages we can relive the days when the two-a-day artists
brought us exciting glimpses—at moderate cost— of the stage.
Vaudeville folk were a clannish group, more down to earth and
human, it seemed, than the remote geniuses of the legitimate stage.
They had fewer swell heads than the ordinary ran of actors, and
they helped one another at all times. This loyalty and love which
they had for their fellows somehow showed in their public work,
and the audience felt a kinship with the gay visitors who called
once or perhaps twice a season in the smaller cities.
When television suddenly came to our homes, vaudeville leaped
back to our affections. There were reunions, so to speak, with many
old friends such as Smith and Dale and Ed Wynn.
This definitive book by Joe Laurie, Jr., is not only of historical
import, but gives us a correct view of an art that charmed our
fathers and ourselves at a time when bickerings and greecl and
hatred and envy were not our principal characteristics.
irii
FOREWORD viii
Joe Laurie does not know it, but he is a shrewd psychologist, a
gifted observer, and in terms of his own unstudied style a talented
writer. And, of course, a grand little guy, a graduate of vaudeville
in the best tradition.
GENE FOWLER
A deep bow (and I hope an encore) to my friend and editor Bill
Raney, for his indispensable help, advice, interest, and understand-
ing for which I shall be forever grateful. And to my old and dear
pal, Gene Fowler, for his encouragement of my scribbling, and a
bend-of-the-knee to all those that have been booked-out-of-town,
and from whom I learned so much about the business there's
nothing like, SEZ
JOE LAURIE, JR.
Foreword by Gene Fowler vll
I LEFTY'S LETTERS
Lights Dim— Curtain About to Go Up 3
Exit Laughingly 8
Lefty's Idea of How It Started 9
And they Called 'em Dumb Acts! 20
The Last Eight Bars Forte— Professor! 38
The Sketch 47
The Single Woman 53
Vaudeville Music 60
Assorted Chirpcrs 74
The Two-man Act 81
She-He's and He-She's 87
TransfiguratorsI 96
Mimics 99
Abracadabra 104
Special Attraction! 118
A Fair Exchange 132
The Blackface Acts 1 39
Meet the Family 143
Animal Acts 155
Monologists and Entertainers 170
The Negro in Vaudeville 201
Printer's Ink and Grease Paint 207
Freak and Odd Acts 214
The Mixed Act 226
Big Acts, Girl Acts, Flash Acts, and Tabs 232
The Small Time 237
Big Pay Checks 250
Memories with Laoghs 257
Grapes of Laughter 265
The Cherry Sisters 272
Three Meals a Day — and a Bluff 276
You Mustn't Say That! 286
Theatrical Clubs 292
The Lambs 304
The White Rats and the N.V.A. 310
Firsts 317
Accompanied by . . . 325
THESE WERE THE KINGS, RULERS. AND CZARS
OF THE NOW-FORGOTTEN KINGDOM OF THE
TWO- AND THREE-A-DAY
Tony Pastor 333
Benjamin Franklin Keith 337
Edward Franklin Albce 342
John J. Murclock 348
Percy G. Williams 353
Martin Beck 359
I1', F, Proctor 365
William Morris 370
Marcus Locw 374
It Runs In the Family 380
Sylvester Z. Poli 397
Alexander Pantages 401
James Austin Fynes 403
And Not Forgetting . . . 407
PAGES TORN OUT OF OLD VAUDEVILLE
Introduction by Epes W. Sargent 417
The Monologist 420
The Man and Woman Act 423
The School Act 427
The Storyteller 431
The Dramatic Sketch 433
The Stump Speech 438
The Ventriloquist 440
The Double Dutch Act 444
The Double Wop Act 448
The Double Irish Act 452
The Straight and the Jew 454
The Two-woman Act 458
Double Blackface Act 461
The Comedy Skelch 465
The Afterpiece 469
The Parody Singers 474
Odds and Unds 478
The Palace 481
The State Theatre 499
The Big Parade 504
Index 513
1
LEFTY'S
LETTERS
to Go Up
This book was written with love and memories for all of Lad)
Vaudeville's children! To the boys and girls I played with foi
many years in the fun garden of show biz— VAUDEVILLE!
With especial thanks to the Pilgrims of vaude who through
pioneering in the honky-tonks and the free-and-easies made
variety, and who later through their originality, breeziness, and
freshness made vaudeville possible. They started in sawdust and
floundered on velvet! They are entitled to the glory, living or
dead, for they blazed the trail to make vaudeville the number one
entertainment of a nation for nearly half a century!
It wasn't all fun. There are lingering memories of damp base-
ment dressing rooms, layoffs, empty stomachs, long jumps for
short dough (sometimes no dough), cancellations after the first
show, terrible orchestras, amateur stagehands, lousy boarding-
houses with cold rooms in winter and hot ones in summcr7 dirty
day coaches with the smell of oil lamps swinging overhead, greasy
grub, and, worse than all this, flopping. Of course, if you were a
hit, all the other discomforts were forgotten. Tt all turned into a
fairyland— a fake fairyland! For we were young and ambitious and
gauged our happiness by applause and laughs!
When you finished serving yoiir apprenticeship by playing every
slab in all the whistle slops to all kinds of audiences from the
ones that you thought were painted on the seats to the ones that
applauded, laughed, stomped their feet, and whistled— and some-
times threw pennies!— your diploma was a full route sheet, play-or-
pay contracts, good orchestras, able stagehands, good hotels,
decent food, comfortable rooms, riding on plush, and playing the
Big Time to reserved seats and maybe ending up at the Palace,
on Broadway, with your name out in front, no matter how small.
The only thing to top all this was the gathering in comradeship
after the show to exchange laughs, dreams, and hopes!
Lefty's Letters 4
There were many reasons for the passing of vaudeville, Pics at
first helped vaude, and vice versa; then came talkies and radio.
But the vaude termites started working when the ears of the
managers became dulled by the clink of gold in the box office.
Vaudeville dropped its manners and grosses when the "goose"
became the coat of arms of its comedians. Brashness and vulgarity
superseded talent and industry. On the part of management, there
was hypocrisy and egotism. They beat down the opposition,
starved the vaude actor, kidded him, made a spy of him on his
fellow artists by dangling forty-week routes before his caved-in
stomach. They had a blacklist that kept many a good act away
from the big-time bills on which they belonged. And as they
stalled the actor, the actor became stale. "We don't care if you
copy anybody; is it cheap?" became the motto.
Pictures played to masses and classes; vaude played in a limited
sphere. Picture houses with their tremendous seating capacities
and continuous performances could outbid the vaude managers
for the standard acts. The salaries became fantastic, through
competition rising so high that even the most prosperous pic
houses couldn't afford to pay them, but they did, until vaude was
killed. It was then that they eliminated vanclc and went back to
straight pics, using acts only when they needed live attractions
to help out a bad picture. Now TV has taken over what's left
of vaudeville, but still it's a "picture under glass/' It hasn't the
warmth, the neighborliness, the friendliness, and the clasp and
hug and closeness of vaudeville in the flesh! Progress? Maybe!
The vaudeville we knew from the turn of the century to i«)^
when the Palace closed its stage door and practically tacked up n
sign reading "Vaudeville Dispossessed/' the real, honest; vital
vaudeville of the old two-a-day of the Palace (and other bi^-f inic
vaude) will never return. Real two-a-day vaude was a personalised
business. The theaters were small; you could almost touch the
actors on the stage. Their personalities reached over the footlights;
you could see every change of expression; you could hear every
word, catch every intonation. There was a free movement; uo
microphones got in the way!
The spirit of vaudeville will never die as long as there are
ambitious kids jigging on cellar doors, doing acrobatics in barns,
juggling apples, playing instruments in the school bands, bar-
monixing "Sweet Adeline/' making faces in the mirror, put ting
LIGHTS DIM CURTAIN TO GO UP 5
on Dad's and Mom's clothes and "playing theater/' and telling
"jokes"! Every town and hamlet in the United States is a silo of
future talent. Like reincarnation, vaude will keep coming back in
other forms. But big-time vaude is now just a sweet memory!
I have been in almost every branch of the show biz (even owned
a tent show that was to have Bob Benchley, Gene Fowler, Hey-
wood Broun, Dorothy Parker, and Ben Hecht as actors, but it
folded before they could even read their contracts). But my
"brag" is vaudeville, not only because it was my cradle, but be-
cause I saw vaudeville feed every branch of the show biz with
talented, starry-eyed children of smiles, knights of song and dance,
contortionists, magicians, monologists, serio-comics, sketch artists,
acrobats, minstrels, and even the freak act, the black sheep of the
vaudeville family. They are all Lady Vaudeville's children— their
father was Entertainment!
I feel I can tell you the story of vaudeville better through rny two
favorite vaudevillians, Lefty and Aggie.
Lefty and Aggie are a composite of all the great men and women
that niaclc the long march from the honky-tonks to the Palace, on
Broadway and Forty-seventh Street, New York City (the last known
address of vaude).
When the vaudeville they knew died, they too died a little.
Through Lefty and Aggie's Blickcnsdorfcr typewriter, their mem-
ories, and their hearts, they will try to recall the clays of the two-,
three-, four-, and even fivc-a<lay. The clays when actors weren't on
an assembly line, when comedians didn't worry about tomorrow's
jokes while telling them today, as they clo in radio ancl TV in 1953.
They will try to recapture the clays when we all joined the parade to
the golden stage cloor of the Palace: some of us tried hard to make
it, and did; some fell by the wayside, because they didn't get the
breaks which are so necessary to success in show biz; ancl many more
quit because the journey was a little too long for them. They will
try to recapture the clays in vaude when we would all gather after
the show for a session of shoptalk ancl laughs, instead of huddling
with lawyers ancl business managers trying to figure a way to beat
the tax or to keep more money with fewer ulcers!
The nicest people in show biz are the ones that ate wriggling
their way to the top; they listen to everybody and take everybody's
advice until they click— then they seldom listen to anybody. But
Lefty's Letters 6
there is nothing more inspiring to an old-timer than to see a kid
building his ladder to climb to the stars!
Lefty and Aggie were what they call "theatrical-trunk babies/7
Their mothers used the bureau drawers for cribs, and hotel towels
for diapers. When the parents were on the stage the kids were
baby-sitted by acrobats, comedians, tragedians, and song-and-clance
men. They took their first bows at the age of two, did a "time
step" at three, and, where the law allowed it, worked in the act at
six. The New York Clipper was their McGuffey's Reader, and they
learned geography through the day-coach windows and history by
living it. They weren't educated but they are intelligent. When
grammar and spelling were being passed around, they were busy
rehearsing "off-to-Buffalo" or how to take a prat fall. They didn't
want to be professors— they wanted to do a specialty in vaudeville.
Aggie was a good wife and did a good "straight" for Lefty. She
could make her own costumes and press and mend Lefty's clothes
when she had to. She could do plain cooking on a stove or a gas
jet and stretch a buck over a week end by saying, "Go ahead and
eat, Lefty, I ain't a bit hungry/' Lefty was a good husband, always
fixing up the act and making daily rounds of the agents and book-
ing offices. His wants were few. As long as Aggie looked good, with
"decent threads," and he kept fairly busy, had a pack of cigarctlcs,
and could afford a nip now and then he was happy. But most of all
he wanted someone to talk to about show biz and have laughs,
They were the kind of people that shared their little flat; and
little food with pals waiting for a break. They were church people
(any church) and saicl their prayers every clay in their own church,
the Theater. That's a pretty religious place, that "first entrance/'
It's there that you see the boys and girls crossing themselves and
kissing mmizahs (the Commandments in Hebrew in a tiny case)
-—and asking The Almighty to make them a hit! Being a hit meant1
they could take earc of their parents, or maybe a crippled sister or
brother, or poor relatives, Lefty and Aggie saw that their kids ^ot
good schooling and became decent citizens. And they were proud
but disappointed when they turned out to be doctors, lawyers, or
engineers instead of actors.
They never asked what your religion was or even noticed your
color, They weren't prudes or reformers. If you had talent, a Rood
story, or were just good company, that was your ticket to get in
the magic circle of performers. 'They'd get; up from a sick bed to
LIGHTS DIM CURTAIN TO GO UP '
play a benefit, and sometimes would even give their most prized
possession — part of their routine — to someone who was trying to get
started. Lefty and Aggie are real nice folks. They're show folks,
who loved show biz as show biz loved them.
Lefty was the kind of guy who was stuffed with unimportant
info. He could tell you where he played in 1890 and who was on
the bill and how they got over. He could tell you what time he
took a train out of Rock Island for Milwaukee twenty-five years
ago. He could tell you the first names of the managers, orchestra
leaders, stage managers, doormen, and even the spotlight man in
every theater he ever played in. He could tell you how much excess
he paid in Des Moines and the salary of every act. He knew every
boardinghouse and theatrical hotel and the laundries that ruined
his cuffs. He knew the real names of most of the actors and what
they did before they went into show biz. But he never knew who
was President. If he did know, it was because there was a gag about
him. "Can the President do a wing like this?" "I never knew a
President that could even do a time step." He kidded because he
had to pay taxes and had to give his kids to the army and navy.
And if you caught him away from his gags, he could even give you
a good idea how the government should be run.
Lefty and Aggie knew the right guys and the chiselers. They
would give a good artist his clue even, if they disliked him person-
ally, "lie is a great performer on the shelf (stage), but personally
he is a louse— he stole a gag from a friend of ours/'
Lefty and Aggie have young hearts with a white-haired memory,
but even they couldn't mention all the standard acts that were in
vaiidc, because it would make this book look like a telephone di-
rectory. Everybody was important in vaudeville, from the guy that
opened the show in Pratt Falls, Montana, to the heaclliiier at the
Palace on Broadwayl lliosc be mentions arc no more important
than those he left out, so if your name isn't in this book, it isn't
because yon weren't important, or that Lefty and Aggie didn't
remember you, but because they just couldn't get it out of their
hearts in time for printing. SEZ
Vaude-willingly yours,
JOE LAURIE, JR»
Lefty's Letters
Vaudeville was first started in the Garden of Eden! Adam was the
first to do a specialty act—he ate an apple! His audience was Eve
and the Snake; they sat in the tree and applauded. No doubt Eve
and the Snake even laughed (snakes didn't know how to hiss until
a gallery was built in the tree). When Adam ate the apple he
must have laughed too, and so the apple stuck in his throat, and
that's where folks have carried the apple ever since. That made
Adam a sort of freak act, and when they were thrown out of the
Garden of Eden, they went out as a man-and-woman act on the
first road tour in the world's history, and it also marked the first
cancellation!
Cain and Abel were the first two-man act. Cain was the straight
man, hitting Abel with a club instead of a newspaper. Noah dicl a
circus act with a special attraction: his son was a ITam.
Then came the tribes, and when one primitive clansman would
dance a bit better than the others or make himself unclcrslootl in
pantomime, he became the medicine man, the origin of the head"
liner. This was followed by the jesters with their caps and bells,
who made kings laugh as they turned handsprings; they were the
first comedy acrobats. Then came the bards with their lyres and
their songs and stories. They preserved history with their voices.
They were the first minstrels, Aaron dicl a magic act when ho turned
an ordinary shepherd's staff into a snake, while Moses was an illu-
sionist, splitting the Reel Sea and walking the Children of Israel
across it.
Solomon dicl a singing act using his own material, the Song of
Solomon. Jonah clicl a tank act, while Joseph must have done, a
quick-change act with his coat of many colon, Nero clicl a violin
solo, Daniel a lion act, and David a sharpshootiug act with his
slingshot.
So, you see, vaudeville started when the world began. Cod must
have laughed when he saw the first man; he must have looked as
funny then as lie does now. So it all started with n laitfth, stud it
s'orl* of became a slogan with the children of vauclcviHc—"Kxil'
I«wghingly"I
LEFTY S IDEA OF HOW IT STARTED
of It
Dear Joe,
Me and Aggie read that stuff of yours how you figured vaudeville
started in the Garden of Eden. It was a bit corny, but we got a
laugh out of it
At that, you are as near right as a lot of these professors who
have been writing stuff in books about how and when it started.
You know me and Aggie have been around a long time; in fact it
was Aggie that dug down into her grouch bag for the twenty-four
bucks to pay off the Indians for the Island of Manhattan! I read
a lot of stuff these pen-pushers wrote about vaudeville (of course
skipping the big words) and find a half a dozen opinions.
Some say that vaudeville is as old as drama itself. When the
Greeks presented their classic plays, strolling players were doing
vaudeville stunts. Some say the name Vaudeville came from a val-
ley in Normandy, the Veil de Vire, while others say she was chris-
tened on the banks of the Seine centuries ago. Her sire (that's the
professor's word; you certainly know it ain't mine) is supposed to
have been a Fuller (who like guys in those days took his name from
his job, that of fulling the earth). Each evening his workers gave
virevaude or vaudevire or vire vire entertainment. Then another
professor sez it started in the eighteenth century with a pop form
of entertainment of light dramatics, consisting of pantomime,
dances, songs, and dialogues written In couplets (that sent me to
Webster). Vau-de-vire was the name given to the convivial (the
last one means something like getting stewed) songs of the fifteenth
century. Then still another long-hair scz the name originated with
a literary association as the Compdnons Gdlois, i.e., boon com-
panions or gay comrades in the Valley of the Vire or Virene in
Normandy. The most famous author of these songs was Oliver
Basselm, When in the seventeenth century the term had been ap-
plied to satiric verses current in the towns, it was corrupted into its
present form either from vau-de-viUe or voix-de-viHe. Don't blame
me for this, Joe, I just copied what I read. I personally think it's
bunkl Only those professors have a way with words that can make
you believe almost anything.
Lefty's Letters 10
I do know there were quite a few guys in America who claimed
they coined the word "vaudeville/7 In 1871 there was Sargent's
Great Vaudeville Co., billed from the National Theatre in Cin-
cinnati, played at Weisiger's Hall, at Louisville, Ky., and he
claimed that was the first time the word was used instead of "va-
riety" (which was what vaudeville was called originally). M. S.
Leavitt, a great showman, also claimed that he was the first to use
the word "vaudeville," as did John W. Ransom, who claimed he
used it while Keith was still a candy butcher in a circus. So it's
a case of "put up your dough and take yer chcrce/' I do know
that originally it was called Variety (which it was), then Vaude-
ville, Advanced Vaudeville, Refined Vaudeville, Progressive Vaude-
ville. And when it was almost dead they called it Glorified
Vaudeville!
I claim that vaudeville was started by guys showing off, Whew
a guy figured lie could sing, dance, juggle, clo flip-flops better than
the other guy (and that goes for the first guy to throw a javelin
that hit its mark), he took it to the public who were always willing
to pay for the best in entertainment- Then sonic smarly came along
and put the different acts together and called it variety, and when
it got on a paying basis they called it vaudeville, to get away from
the word "variety," which meant, in the early days, a stag show.
We know there were a lot of minstrel shows during the Civil
War and there was a lot of talent roaming around the country
"buskin'/' Now here's another word that professors hop on and
give you a half a dozen double-talk meanings, ! went to Webster,
who says (and I'm copying it, kid), "Busk— a nautical term to
"cruise as a pirate/ 'to search everywhere/ 'to beat about." ** Ami in
my opinion that's just what the amateurs have always done. The
show folks called it "buskin'," not because it's the name of a shoe
that Ihc legits wore when they played Romans; but because the
guys "cruised around" lo find a place for their talents* A saloon
was the natural place to go to, as the customers were looking For
entertainment Most of the customers were sailors and no donbt
started to eall these guys "buskers/' and then the performers #ol
lo saying, 4Tm going buskin" tonight/" Now, Joe, this is my own
idea how it was called "buskin'/' and I am entitled to if' as much
as the profcssorsl
A "busker" .sang or danced, then passed the hat or picked up his
LEFTY'S IDEA OF HOW IT STARTED II
"throw money.77 They got so that they even hired a shill to start
throwing a few coins to kinda start off the collection.
The saloonkeepers noticed that the customers liked this side
entertainment and stayed in the place buying more drinks. Some
of the smarter ones added a little stage and a piano player, then
added boxes with curtains, so the big spenders could have a little
privacy (for an extra charge, of course), hostesses, and, naturally,
gambling tables. These places were soon known as "free-and-easies"
or "honky-tonks," giving low-down stag entertainment. They spread
from coast to coast. Some were elaborate, charging admissions,
while most were just gambling houses and saloons providing enter-
tainment. You would enter the bar, pass the gambling tables, then
enter the "hall."
It's funny how they practically use the same idea today in Las
Vegas. You can go there, live at a first-class hotel, eat great food,
and see blue-chip entertainment for less than it costs any place
in the world. But— to get to the powder room you must go via the
Casino where all the gambling tables are, and there are very few
(especially women) that can resist dropping a few bucks while en
route. It is all done in first-class style and lawfully, but it's the old
honky-tonk idea, in plush and without hostesses!
The honky-tonks used many hostesses working the boxes. These
gals worked on commission, sitting with the customers to get them
to buy drinks. They would drink with the customers but would
usually get tea that looked like whisky and was charged as whisky
to the sucker (if you can call a guy with a lot of dough a sucker) .
They still use the trick today in spots that use hostesses. The gals
got a check for every drink ordered, which they cashed at the end
of the night's work. To make the girls more attractive to the
"Johns/' the management had them open the show with a song
and a simple dance. They clrcsscd in soubrctte costumes, short
skirts and low necks. This, of course, made them actresses and more
desirable to the Johns. Some of the girls would take turns doing a
single and would get throw money, adding to their commissions.
The gals soon got wise that they could make more and easier
money while singing than by sitting with the Johns all night guz-
zling bad tea and worse booze and getting pawed. Their percentage
on drinks was small, about 20 per cent tops for wine and a smaller
percentage for liquor and beer. They started telling their friends
not to spend their dough on booze for them but to throw the money
Lefty's Letters u
to them when they were on the stage singing. It was a common
sight to see a gal singing a heart-rending ballad while picking up
coins (the same as the kids did years later at Amateur Nights),
It didn't take long for the owners to get wise to what was going
on. They passed a rule that it was unladylike and unprofessional
to have the performers pick up the throw money, so to save embar-
rassment they would pick it up and give the girls 20 per cent of the
take. That ended one of the first theatrical rackets and turned
saloonkeepers into managers!
The honky-tonks, free-and-easies, and museums were really the
future vaudeville's cradle for talent. In these places they played to
all types of audiences, sometimes doing fifteen shows a clay. As long
as there was a customer buying, he had to be entertained The
comedians wrote their own stuff, the song-and-dancc men wrote
ditties and created new dance steps. The show usually followed a
set pattern: Opening chorus by the "ladies" (the start of chorus
girls), then came the song-and-dancc men, musical mokes, two-
men acts, quartettes, contortionists, etc. Nearly everybody knew
how to plunk a banjo. The show would finish with an "afterpiece"
in which the entire company took part. (That's how many acrobats
learned how to talk.) These afterpieces were practically ad-libbed
sketches. The boys would talk it over at the first rehearsal, and from
then on it was a case of every man for himself. In this way these
skits became familiar to the actors, and so when someone would
say, "Let's do 'Slim Dcmpsey' or 'Ghost in the Pawnshop' " or
dozens of others, they all knew the general layout and it was jtist
a case of what part you'd play, Many actors became known for cer-
tain parts in afterpieces. And some of the.se afterpieces became
classics in vaudeville and on the legitimate stage. "The Hut him;
Girls/' sometimes called "Dr. Holcomb/' a particularly dirty «fcit
which Denman Thompson wrote and played in honky-tonks, be-
came the famous legit play, 'The Old Homestead/' winch played
on Broadway and toured the country for many years— u*> per cent
ptirel It made Thompson rich and famous* Another pretty dirty
afterpiece called "The Book Agent/' which the famous team of
Kvans and Ilocy played in honky-ltmks, later became "A Parlor
Ma teh" in the late i88os> and was a big success all over the country*
Some of the girls1 who made their debuts in show bix as hostesses
and singers became very good performers, and many married actors.
They would do a double act and play the regular variety theaters
LEFTY'S IDEA OF HOW IT STARTED *3
and in the slack season go back to the "wine rooms/7 where the
missis would work the boxes between shows to add to the family
income. Some of the greatest stars of yesteryear, both male and
female, got their start in honky-tonks!
In the 'yos and '8os there were hundreds of museums, honky-
tonks, and beer halls. Some theaters were permitted to serve beer.
(In later years Hammerstein's Victoria, on Forty-second Street and
Broadway, and the Metropolitan Opera House were the only two
theaters in New York City with bar licenses.) It was a rough, lusty,
booming, guzzling time. People were seeking amusement wherever
they could find it. People were learning how to play. And, brother,
in those honky-tonks you sure could play, from dice to wine,
women, and song.
One of the best of the old free-and-easies of the early days was
Harry Hill's on Houston and Crosby streets in New York. Besides
presenting specialty acts he ran an athletic club with boxing, club
swinging, bag punching, walking contests, and song and dance and
drama. Owney Gagan's at Bowery and Hester streets would also
stage boxing bouts, with Owney himself meeting all comers, whom
lie quickly knocked out. It was later discovered that he had the
"difference" in the form of a small horseshoes in his glove. If the
opponent was tough, he would back him against the backdrop,
where an assistant hit the guy on the konk with a bung-starter from
behind the drop, saving Owney the $25 offered anyone who could
slay three rounds with him.
Jack Berry's Varieties on Greenwich Street, the Alhambra at 124
West Twenty-seventh Street, Spencer's at Bowery and Houston
streets, the Aquarium on Broadway and Thirty-fifth Street (away
uptown in those clays), the Brighton, where Will H. Fox, who
later became the first comedy pianist in vaude, played piano
and where Joe K. ("I Wonder Who's Kissing Her Now?") How-
ard would audition songs. Nigger Mike's, where Irving Berlin per-
formed as a singing waiter ancl Jules Saranoff playccl the violin.
The White Elephant; a tourist joint, a novelty place— the rooms
were dressed in mourning ancl the tables were caskets. Ilartigan's
Saloon at Chatham Square, where General Grant was a customer
when in town, Charlie Pinkunelly owned Paresis Hall on the Bow-
cry (Jake Isaacs was the bartender), Fred Fleck was the alderman
of the district, and the guy outside writing calling cards in a fine
Spcnccrian pen for 25 cents a dozen was Al Woods, who later
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became one of the great Broadway producers and took both these
gentlemen Into his organization. But Koster and Dial's at Twenty-
third street west of Sixth Avenue was the tops in wine rooms, play-
ing the best imported and domestic acts. (Williams & Walker
started here in their first New York appearance.) It was the "class"
of all the wine rooms in the country.
There was a regular circuit of honky-tonks in the West, not
organized, but the performers laid out their own routes, writing
direct to the managers for time. The usual route of a recognized
performer was to open at Salt Lake and finish up in New Orleans.
The jumps were pretty big, so they'd book themselves for five to
six weeks in each place. When an act arrived, he would get a hand-
ful of checks good at the bar (they were charged to him), and
many performers got into the management so deep that the man-
agement had to keep them for a few extra weeks so they could
collect the monies owed. A good spender (and gambler) was always
booked back. They do the same today in the top night clubs in
the country where gambling is allowed. Many of our present-clay
headliners are also gamblers and many times leave their salary (and
sometimes LO.U.s) at the gaming tables. The management prac-
tically gets its entertainment for free with this kind of guy,
George Manioc's People's Theatre was the stand in Salt Lake
City (he also ran the Novelty in Ogdcn). Gordon and Richard's
Comique in Butte, Montana, was the next stop. Here they used to
put the afterpiece on at 7 A.M., and the miners, dinner pails in
hand, stopped off for a shot of liquor and entertainment on the
way to work. At Helena, Chicago Joe ran the Coliseum, Then
they'd go to Great Falls and Missoula, and then on to Spokane at
Big Bertha's Casino and Comique, Big Bertha weighed about 450
pounds, was a smart operator, and, had a great joint Her show
would start at 7 PJVL and finish at 2 A.M., when the men in the
afterpiece would take positions on the stage and ad-lib for an hour
about topics of the clay, 'lliis gave the gals another hour to colled'
commissions. At 3 A.M. everybody lined up and sang "Aulcl Lung
Sync" after eight straight hours of entertainment. The late John
Cort, the famous Broadway manager, producer, and theater owner
also owned honky-tonks in Seattle, Portland, and Victoria, B.C,
Frank Nelson ran the Comique in Taeoma- From there the per-
formers went to Frisco, the New York City of the West. (And you
know I'm a New Yorker, but the old Frisco was at limes even better
LEFTY'S IDEA OF HOW IT STARTED 15
than New York. They always loved actors and actors loved Frisco.)
The Wigwam was one of the few variety places that was sort of
family style and about the only one in the West at that time
(about 1886) that didn't run a wine room. Walters, who had a
lot to do with the Orpheum Circuit's beginning, ran it. Later a
guy by the name of Meyers, who was supposed to originate the
crack, "Well, if you're a comedian, now's your chance to make me
laugh/7 ran it. He'd tell you this when you told him your salary—
and in an empty barroom!
There was a bunch of honky-tonks in Frisco. The greatest of
them was the Belle Union, that had a rep in those days like the
Palace on Broadway many years later. Anybody that made good
there had a free ticket to any honky-tonk in the country. The shows
at the Belle Union were strictly stag and would have made even
Minsky blush. Junie McCree and Johnny Ray (John and Emma
Ray) were great favorites there. Another well-known spot was the
Crcmonde. They were the only two houses where the girls were
allowed to mingle with the audience. There were a lot of smaller
honkies in the city, like Theatre Comique, White Elephant, Bottle
Kocnig's, Eureka Hall, Bottle Meyer's, Elite, Olympic, and many
more. When actors finally got out of Frisco (which no performer
wanted to) they went to the Perry Brothers' Club Theatre in Los
Angeles (one of the greatest money-makers in the West), Joe
Bignon's in Phoenix, Arizona, Sherwood's Mascot in Galveston,
Texas, then the Camp Street Theatre in Dallas, which was run by
Belle Houston and George Woods. Woods also ran the hotel and
you had to stop there if you wanted to play his theater. He disliked
Hebrew comedians, but his audience liked them and insisted on
his booking them. He had a cute way of getting even with any
Hebrew performer that played his place. He would serve pork at
most of the meals, Joe Welch told me that he wanted to get even
with him by stealing the towels in the hotel, but the guy didn't
have individual towels, just a roller towel in the hall. After a week
it looked like crepcl
The famous Swor Brothers and Tom Bceson (father of Lulu
Bees on, who won the Fox Medal for buck dancing) got their start
at the Camp Street Theatre in Dallas, their home town. Fanny
Prestige ran the Academy in West Superior, Wisconsin, She was a
big blond character who wore a sealskin coat over a Mother Hub-
bard and eight-carat diamond earrings. Then there was the Parlor
Lefty's Letters m
Theatre, Duluth, Minnesota, which was practically a store with
the front window shuttered. They were not allowed to serve liquor
in a place of amusement in Duluth, so they got this store next door
to the bar, made a hole in the wall, room enough for one guy at
a time to go through during intermissions. They also had a mid-
night closing law, so the actors liked to play this place because it
was easy work and a lot of "fun'7!
Besides these honky-tonks, there were also hundreds of museums
throughout the country where, besides the freaks and curio halls,
there usually was a small theater. Because of the small stage, they
only played small, stand-up acts. Aerial wire walkers and animal
acts couldn't play these places; in fact jugglers had to be careful
not to throw their balls or clubs too high, as there was very little
headroom. Some places played one-act dramas. An actor once said,
'When we played a war drama, everybody had to be privates, be-
cause a general's epaulets couldn't get through the first entrance!"
After the show in the Main Hall, they'd sell a five- or ten-cent
ticket for the "theater/' a is^-scatcr. Some had a few reserved seats
(10 cents extra), while the rest of the audience stood up. To do
fifteen or twenty shows a clay was just a walkover. Some of the top
museums were Austin and Stone's and Filling's in Boston, Kpstein's
on Randolph street in Chicago, Wonderland in Minneapolis and
Wonderland in St. Paul, Avery's in Cincinnati, Comers' in Alle-
gheny, Pennsylvania, Davis's in Pittsburgh (he later became one
of the great two-a-day vauclc managers), Brandcnbcrg's in Phila-
delphia, Huber's on East Fourteenth Street in New York City, and
of course the Eden on West Twenty-third Street, which was high-
class and ran a higher grade of entertainment. The ones I men-
tioned were the tops of the museum circuit, show hi/* kindergartens
preparing talent for variety houses.
Now, Joe, these honky-tonks and museums were doing plenty
good missionary work for future vaudeville. Besides {raining future
greats, they made the people amusement conscious. But" it' was*
pretty low and raw entertainment, catering mostly to star; audi-
ences. So it was on July 31, 186!; (I wasn't there but Ar^ie was,
ha ha), that a great guy, a singing clown in a circus (yeh» downs
used to sing and talk in the old circus slunvs) figured thai variety
should have a real theater where ladies and gentlemen and children
could attend without being ashamed. So on that day hi* opened
Tony Pastor's Opera House at 199-201 Bowery, Now York City.
LEFTY'S IDEA OF HOW IT STARTED
He had gas footlights, and when they turned them on the audi-
torium was filled with the smell before the stagehand would come
out and light the foots with a long wax taper. The smell of gas
tangled with that of oranges, apples, cigars, pipes, and cigarettes.
But the audience didn't mind, and the actors never complained
about gas hurting their voices. In those days they received small
salaries and had no temperament. Besides, gas was like an oxygen
tank compared to the air inhaled in honky-tonks, wine rooms, and
museums. And remember, too, they had no union!
Tony Pastor's was a big hit, and so was another circus guy, who
started out as a candy butcher, Benjamin Franklin Keith, who laid
the cornerstone in Boston for what was to become the greatest
vaudeville circuit in the world!
When Pastor and Keith started, it was a sort of catch-as-catclv
can business. It was nothing like the fine organized biz that it later
became. Anybody that could sing, dance, whistle, bend in the
middle, do a flip-flop, or play an instrument joined the ranks of the
variety "artists," as they called 'em later, but we called 'em all
"Preformers." If you liked a guy, you called him "cull" or "bo."
They came from all walks of life, lured by adventure and the
glamor of the stage and most of all the dough! The dough meant
more to the guys an,d gals at that time than applause, although
the more applause you got, the more dough you got. But most of
the variety actors (and that goes for all other actors) came from
poor families. Their fathers had to get up maybe at 6 A.M. to get
to work, so being able to sleep until noon had a great appeal (be-
sides the applause), and being an actor was much nicer work than
being a truck driver, a factory hand, a clerk, or a laborer. Earning
$25 to $75 a week (a banker's salary in those days) and being able
to sleep late, dress flashily, and get applause were hard to resist.
There were lots of chances in those days to sneak into show biz.
There were frcc-and-casics, store shows, museums, showboats, burly
shows, dramatic shows, medicine shows, wagon shows, and minstrel
shows using variety acts and specialties. The field was large and
there was room for nearly everybody with or without talent. The
managers had nothing to lose. They paid a small wage (you fur-
nished costume and music) and could cancel you any time they
pleased, so there was nothing to lose in giving an amateur a chance.
The ones with talent and originality and ability soon became the
standard and headline acts (as in any biz), the mediocre ones were
Lefty s Letters W
used as fill-ins, and the no-talent guys grabbed anything they could
get and tried to hang on as long as possible. You know, being an
old performer doesn't make you good. We had a hell of a lot of
bad old performers! It's like the time Joe Jefferson (who made Rip
Van Winkle famous) was walking along Broadway with his son,
and as they passed an elderly gentleman Jefferson nodded. "Who
was that?" asked Junior. 'That is an old amateur who has been in
the theater for many years," said his old man.
The salaries, as I said, weren't much in those days, but it took
very little dough to live. Many of the acts did light housekeeping
in little flats and others lived in boardinghouses where for a buck
you could get three meals a day and a room with a window. And
there were kind-hearted landladies who "carried" you when you
were laying off. And then there were the guys who lived in fur-
nished rooms for three bucks a week (with a skylight and no win-
dow, a buck and a half) and depended for their meals on the free
lunches served in the saloons, and some of them were better than
they served in the boardinghouses. The better paid actors used to
live at the Morton House or the Union Square Hotel on Fourteenth
street and Fourth avenue.
The big worry was wardrobe for both street and stage wear, as
a good "flash" (prosperous appearance) on and off made the act
more valuable. Many of the actors would invest their surplus (?)
dough in on-time jewelry. The favorite hunks of ice were a large
sunburst for the women and a horseshoe pin for the men. They
were practically mustsl They didn't mind if the stones were yellow-
ish, as long as they were large and made a great flash when the
spotlight hit 'em! Jewelry was considered a good investment: it
made managers think you were loaded and during the "at liberty"
periods you could hock 'era!
The early ranks of variety performers were made tip mostly of
Irishmen, and there were also a lot of Germans, but* very few
Hebrews! The performers were mostly out for laughs, before and
after shows. They kept to themselves because the legits wouldn't
mix with these crazy troubadours. For many years there was a
strained feeling between the dramatic actor and the variety actor,
because the dramatic actor felt he was playing clown when he
played vaude (they soon got over that when the grouch bags got*
filled) . The variety actor was always a carefree guy with very little
dignity. He was a bohemian who liked to mix with fighters, book-
LEFTY'S IDEA OF HOW IT STARTED 19
makers, bartenders, jockeys, gamblers, wine agents, and gals from
the oldest profession, all of whom, like himself, were looking for
adventure and laughs. It was the spirit of fun among the variety
artists and minstrels that started a small group to organize a club
which they called the "Jolly Corks." It was organized for their own
fun and entertainment. Soon many more actors joined, and then
they admitted some laymen, and in a short time it became the
greatest benevolent organization in the United States.
They changed the name from the "Jolly Corks" to the "Benevo-
lent Protective Order of Elks"!
It was Tony Pastor and Keith and all the "Jolly Corks" who did
more for vaudeville than anyone in the history of our biz. And so
you see, Joe, why I don't care what the professors say how it all
started and how it got its name, it makes interesting reading, but
to me and Aggie it was these guys that started vaudeville on its
way to become the nation's number one entertainment for almost
half a century!
But let's not forget that the free-and-easies and honky-tonks and
museums were the incubators of the talents that made vaudeville.
They didn't have any fancy names like vau-de-vire, but me and
Aggie figure that variety is what it always was and always will be,
no matter what fancy names you give it.
Thought you'd like to read the rules of an old honky-tonk that
me ancl Aggie saved for just an occasion like this. Here 'tis.
H0LES FROM AN OLD HONKY-TONK
1 Ladies must be drcssccl and in the boxes by 7:30.
2 No vulgar language allowed in green room, boxes, or dressing
rooms.
3 Ladies and performers must turn down the gas every time they
leave the dressing rooms.
4 All lady performers must wear tights,
5 Ladies are uot allowed to smoke during the show.
6 Performers are expected to give ancl take one-week notice.
7 Performers late for an act will surely be fined.
8 Anyone so under the influence of liquor as to neglect an act
or turn will surely be fined,
9 Absence or late for rehearsal without satisfactory excuse will
Lefty's Letters m
be fined; 15 minutes' grace allowed; rehearsal call whenever
required.
10 Performers are required to do as many acts and specialties as
required by manager.
11 Ladies must settle up before dressing.
12 Lists of props for specialties and acts must be handed in at
first rehearsal.
13 Ladies are allowed only two packages of cigarettes nightly.
14 Male performers are not allowed around the bar, in the green
room, or boxes.
15 Performers must costume themselves according to the require-
ments of acts or specialties.
16 Ladies are not allowed to run each other down to the cus-
tomers in the boxes.
17 Performers must keep their dressing rooms in good condition
and hang up their wardrobe.
18 Performers are not allowed to guy or laugh in acts or turns.
19 Performers are obliged to take one business encore.
20 The above rules and regulations will be strictly enforced.
STAGE MANAGER
SEZ
Your pal>
LEFTY
And They Called 'Em Dumb Acts!
Dear Joe,
Being a "dumb act" in the days of variety and vaudeville was
really rough. They were the acts that didn't talk, like acrobats,
bicycle acts, jugglers, etc. They usually opened or closed a show.
We used to describe an opening act as "They sec 'cm sitting
clown/' and a closing act as 'They sec a lot of haircuts/' because
AND THEY CALLED ?EM DUMB ACTS! 21
the opening act would be on when the people were arriving and
during the closing act the audience would start leaving to avoid
the crowds. (They later used pics to chase the audience.)
In Europe the dumb act was respected and was usually a fea-
tured act and many times a headliner. In America it was many
years before a dumb act was headlined or featured. Houdini was
one of the first to be headlined, followed by terrific box-office at-
tractions like Cinquevalli, May Wirth, Kara, Poodles Hanneford,
Joe Jackson, and the Rath Brothers. Most of the great dumb acts
were Europeans, because they had the patience to work for hoursr
weeks, and years to perfect their specialties. The Americans wanted
to "do it fast." The foreign troupes had apprentices who worked
for years for just room and board, a few clothes, and maybe a buck
or two for spending money. The owner of the act would send the
kid's parents a few bucks a week, which they were glad to get while
their kid was learning a "profession."
When vaude took the count, the dumb act was in a better posi-
tion to adjust itself than any other type act. First, because many
of them had saved their dough (the majority of them were not
high-priced acts) and had a trade or a side business; some had
farms. They realized that a guy depending on eyes, legs, arms,
muscles, and physical condition couldn't last very long. Being sight
acts, they didn't have to depend on languages, and so could play
almost everywhere in the world, in circus or on stage, which talking
acts couldn't do. Most of the dumb acts came from the circus.
We have a lot of guys and gals in show biz today that started
out as a dumb act and have become fine actors and great come-
dians. Fred Allen started as a juggler, as did Jimmy Savo, whose
billing was, "Juggles everything from a feather to a piano," And
another juggler that did O.K. was W. C. Fields. Gary Grant was
a stilt walker with the Lournns Troupe; Victor McLaglcn, an Oscar
winner in pics, was an "understiuulcr" in an acrobatic troupe; and
another fine stage, radio, screen, and TV actor was a top-mounter
with the famous Dollar Troupe— -Conrad Nagcl. Charley Grape-
win, a vet vaude stage and screen actor, was a parachute jumper in
a circus. Burt Lancaster, a fine pic star, was part of the acrobatic
act of Nick Cravat & Burt Lancaster, If you remember seeing a
couple of acrobats billed as Prcvost & Brown, "Watch the Cork-
screw Kid/' it was Joe E. Brown who was the Corkscrew Kid. An-
other one of our famous comic stars who started as an acrobat was
22
Lefty's Letters
Bobby Clark; he and his late partner Paul McCullough started out
as kids with a circus. There was a kid who started out doing a
trapeze act with his family's rep show, then became a star in, all
branches of show biz, the famous "Cap'n Andy" of S/iow Boat,
Charles Winninger. Joe Cook, the man who made the Four Ila-
waiians famous, started as a club juggler. Tom Mix, the most
famous of all the cowboy actors, did a sharpshooting act. Roger
Imhof (Imhof, Conn & Corinne, whose sketch, "The Pest House/'
was one of the biggest laugh-getting acts in vaude) was a clown
with the Miles Orton Circus.
Gus Sun, who at one time booked more theaters than B. F.
Keith, was originally a juggler. Another foot juggler by the name
of Levantine didn't do so bad either. You heard of him as F. F.
Proctor, the one-time partner of B. F. Keith. George Harnid was
a tumbler, and a good one, with an Arab troupe, and finished up
owning the Steel Pier at Atlantic City, also some carnivals and
circuses. Charles T. Aldrich started as a tramp juggler, then did one
of the first protean acts, became a fine actor in many Broadway
shows, and is now living in retirement on his large Lakcwood, New
Jersey, estate. Guy Weadick (Weadick& LaDuc), who originated
'The Stampede" act and whose late wife was a champ lady roper,
is now retired in Arizona. Ernst London (Four Lonclons, a great
casting act) owns an apartment house in New York. Ben Beyer
(Ben Beyer & Brother) a pioneer international comedy bicycle act,
owned a garage and real estate in Miami Beach, Florida, and is
now retired. McCIellan & Carson started out as a skating act and
became a fine comedy talking act in big-time vauclc. Stan Stanley
worked on a trampoline arid became a fine talking comic. Ann
Codec, originally with her two sisters in an acrobatic act (Three
Athletas), became a straight woman for her husband, Frank Orth
(Orth & Codee), and then took over the comedy chores of the act,
which played all over the world (they did the act in five different
languages). William & Joe Mandell were just a regular straight
acrobatic act, but soon became one of the best comedy talking acts
in vaude. Jack LaVier did a monologue on a trapcxc, Mitchell &
Durant worked together as a comedy acrobatic act, split after
twelve years, and Durant became a fine comedy monologist both
here and abroad, using one-line gags mixed with great falls,
Knockabout acrobats, bag punching, boxing, wrestling, and walk-
ing acts were some of the early dumb acts in variety. Club swinging
AND THEY CALLED 'EM DUMB ACTS! 23
was very popular in the early '8os and '905; there were contests all
over the country. The late Gus Hill, one of the pioneer burlesque
producers, won the Fox Medal Championship (via Police Gazette).
He traveled all over the country with his variety and burly shows,
challenging the local boys to a club-swinging contest. He would
build these contests up by letting the local boy win and giving him
a medal (he carried a trunkful), then in a few weeks would play
a return date to try and win it back (which meant another jammed
house) , and this time Gus would win; and so he see-sawed through
the country, changing championships and medals weekly, playing
to jammed houses. He became a very wealthy man. Club swinging
was judged by ''free swinging, grace, formation, and smoothness."
One of the first to swing clubs was Walter Brown, champ oarsman.
They were then called "Kehoe clubs" because a guy by the name
of Jim Kehoe made them (which is fair enough) . We always called
them Indian clubs, and I don't know why. Nellie Clark was the
first lady club swinger and DeWitt Cook was the first to do a
juggling act with Indian clubs — instead of swinging them!
Me and Aggie had a lot of friends among the jugglers. We liked
7em because many of them had a good sense of humor and anyway
we figured any guy that wants to be a juggler has something the
matter with him enough to make him interesting. Among jugglers
they don't judge each other by the salaries they get. They each
stand out in their own particular line. We think Cinquevalli (from
England) was the greatest showman of the juggling fraternity. He
didn't do hard tricks, but spectacular ones. He was a fine gentleman
and a great juggler. He was also a fine violinist (never used it on
the stage, but would play for me and Aggie and the rest of the bill
after the show). Kara, of course, was the greatest object juggler in
the world, lie would manipulate more objects of different weights
than any other juggler. That's a very tough thing to do in juggling.
Tic missed a lot, but his tricks were so hard you expected him to
miss. liarrigan, "The Tramp Juggler/' did a tramp comedy juggling
act long before W, C. Fields (in fact W. C. stole Harrigan's make-
up and tricks when he first started). Later Harrigan became a fine
monologist and gave up juggling. W. C, Fields without a doubt
was the greatest American comedy juggler, even long before he
started to talk (excuse me, Fred Allen and Jimmy Savo).
Billy Cromwell was the fastest juggler. He worked without stall-
ing and hardly made mistakes, The Cromwells did a swell act; Billy
Lefty's Letters 24
worked as a "lady" and the other Cromwell was the comic. Salerno
was a great object juggler. He claimed (I believe) to have origi-
nated the picture sliding down his forehead (I don't know if it is
so). But I do know he was great when he threw an envelope in
the air and as it came down he would cut the edge off with a
scissors. This later was faked by many jugglers.
Chinko was one of the first to juggle eight balls, which was a
record for a time. Then along came Amerous Werner, a German
who juggled ten, throwing one ball in the air at a time. That caused
plenty of "AhY? until the Max Wesseley Troupe came along and
Max juggled sixteen balls, which is a record that still stands as far
as I know! The Five Mowatts were really great double-club jugglers,
as were the Juggling Normans. Some years later came the Three
Swifts (still going), who were and are as good as or better than
any club jugglers around. They all worked fast. The passing of
clubs between two of the boys swiftly while one walks by, just
missing one of the clubs by a hair, was done many times, but not
as expertly as by the Three Swifts!
Friscarry was a terrific hat juggler; he did four hats at one time
with one hand. I have never seen this trick done since. From Aus-
tralia some new ideas of club juggling were brought over by the
Kelso Brothers. Their toes would touch clubs and throw them in
position for juggling. They later replaced Clark & McCullongh in
burlesque and did comedy dancing and talking and were very suc-
cessful. Griff was a very funny British-talking juggler. lie was what
I would call the Will Rogers of juggling, making sarcastic remarks
about his juggling and about things in general. lie was assisted
later by his son George. He also did a bit of ventriloquism with a
skull which he called Poor Richard. He was made up as a clown
in white face, and certainly made good in America,
The Morton & Jewell Troupe were the first jugglers to put .sing-
ing in their act. Selma Brattz was the greatest of the lady jugglers;
she did stuff that only men were supposed to do. Anita Battling,
Maybell Fonda, Elly, the youngest gal juggler, and Racjucl were
all fine lady jugglers. Charlene & Charlcnc did violin playing with
juggling and real good fiddlin'. Sylvester Schaffcr was the greatest
one-man talent (of the dumb acts) that I or anybody ever saw* I Ic
did juggling, sharpshooting, drawing, animal training, acrobatics,
magic, wire walking, dancing, whips, roping, and anything you
AND THEY CALLED ?EM DUMB ACTSl 25
could mention— and did them all very well. A remarkable man. His
act ran from one hour to an hour and a half.
Tom Heara, "The Lazy Juggler/' was a very funny man, as was
La Dent, who was the first to have a sign on a screen reading
"Swearing Room," and when he would miss a trick he would go
behind the screen. (Many copied this bit.) Paul La Croix was the
greatest with the bouncing hats and Emerson & Baldwin were fine
club jugglers. Sparrow, 'The Mad Juggler/* caught apples thrown
at him by the audience on a fork in his mouth. The Zanettos also
claimed to be originators of this bit—anyway, they all finished with
a rotten apple (planted with a stooge) hitting the comic on the
head. The Zanettos worked on a battleship, juggling life preservers,
knives, and catching the turnip (you see, some of them were clever
enough to switch from apples to turnips). In 1894 the Hoppers
(tramp act) caught oranges on a fork. So Aggie and me figure they
were all originals with different fruits.
There were many claimed to be originators of dancing while
juggling. H. M. Lorette seems to me to be the first according to
the records, but there were plenty of good ones, like Alburtus &
Weston, and Paul Dupont, whom me and Aggie played with on
the S. & C. Time when he first came over from France, and a few
more who claim being the first dancing jugglers. It really doesn't
matter; they all danced while juggling. Among the comedy jugglers
were Herbert Lloyd, who when he missed a trick said "No good,
Napoleon," and H. M. Nelson, who kept emptying a small water
jug throughout his act. Pollard shot pool and scored on rings of
the portieres; he also had a funny line of talk. Edwin George was
a very funny man, too, and a good juggler; you must remember him
trying throughout his act to put a hat on a cane he was balancing
on his head. Finally, after a lot of misses, he would put the hat on
the cane and say, "This is the way it looks when it's done!" Billy
Kincaid, Clever Conkcy, Frank Hartley were all funny men and
good jugglers. Kashima had pool pockets on his jacket and caught
the balls in the different pockets. The Glockers juggled water jugs.
Van Cello and Mary did foot juggling; Mary handed him the stuff
and looked very pretty, Elverton was a baton spinner* Paul Conchas
was the greatest of the heavyweight jugglers and had a comedy
assistant named Ncuman who was just one of the greatest of all
comedy assistants*
General Ed Lavine was a great comedy juggler. Bedini & Arthur
Lefty's Letters 28
were assisted by Eddie Cantor— his first stage job. Christy (Christy
& Willis) was one of the first talking jugglers. Moran & Weiser I
thought was one of the funniest and most original of all the hat-
juggling acts. The Original Barretts (Harry was the original thrower
of boomerang hats), Johnson, Baker & Johnson, and Johnson &
Baker were all hat throwers, but I still claim that nobody was fun-
nier or better than Moran. Les Kiners Moulin balanced musical
instruments borrowed from the orchestra. Bob Ripa (English) was
a la Rastalli (from Italy), Serge Flash worked a la Felovis but they
were all really great acts. Rastalli was in a class with Kara and
Cinquevalli. Max Cincinnati was considered Europe's greatest
juggler.
The Baggesons were a swell comedy act, juggled and broke plates,
and were the first ones we ever saw do the flypaper bit (while hold-
ing an armful of plates which his wife throws to him, his other
hand gets stuck on flypaper, and he tries to get rid of it while hold-
ing about 100 dishes; well, just imagine)! There was a guy called
Rebla who had a jerky style of juggling three balls (before W. C.
Fields). Rich Hayes, who worked for Rebla at one time, was a
very funny man in his own right and a fine juggler, Robertas & Wil-
freds introduced returning balls by reverse cnglish, but it was
originated by Alexander & Evelyn. Selbo was the first to spread
clubs. Morris Cronin was first to do sliding clubs, George Swift
was first to kick up clubs with his feet, and Stan Kavauaugh was
one of the greatest and funniest with the spread clubs.
While I am telling you about jugglers, I must tell you a true story
about my favorite show biz clown, Eclclic Carr, of Ccmlin, Slcclc
& Carr, who also played his own comedy sketch for many years.
There was a certain (I just won't get sued) Spanish juggler who
was brought over here by Martin Beck to play the Orphcmn Cir-
cuit. He landed in New York, was met by the circuit representa-
tives, and was immediately shipped to Minneapolis where the
Orpheum tours started. He couldn't speak or understand a word
of English and was assigned to dress with Ecldic Carr* This juggler
was the headliner, but because the show was a big one and there
were very few dressing rooms, he had to share one with Eddie, who
didn't speak or understand a word of Spanish, but greeted the
gentleman with the universal language, a bottle of good rye which
was hidden behind the make-up mirror. As it happened, it was the
start of a fine friendship, because the juggler liked rye tool Carr
ANDTHEY CALLED 'EM DUMB ACTS! 27
tried to make him understand with gestures, etc., that they were
going to be together for fourteen weeks and he would teach him
English while getting Spanish instruction in return. A few drinks
and they were buddies! Carr roomed with him, ate with him, and
was with him every minute, while the rest of the troupe couldn't
get near him.
In a week or so the Spaniard would come into the company car
on getaway day and greet the troupe with, "Goot heeving," or
"Goot morin," etc. But Carr would take him to their drawing room.
The man was really a big hit (he was one of the great jugglers of
our time) . They got to the Orpheum in San Francisco about eight
weeks later, and I must tell you that Frisco's Orpheum was com-
parable to the Palace in New York. It had one of the greatest
subscription lists of any theater in the country; subscriptions were
handed down in the family, and the audience was not only the
finest in San Francisco but in America. So on opening day the
Spaniard was a tremendous hit, and to the surprise of everybody
on the show, he stopped the music, walked slowly to the footlights,
and in his best-taught Eddie Carr English, said, "Laddis and gen-
tlemans, for my next treek I weel juggle billard kue (showing a
billiard cue), billard bowl (showing billiard ball), and (showing a
vase) peese pot!" (Remember, this theater wouldn't allow you to
say cockroach.) There was a moment's silence, and then—oh well,
just figure it for yourself,
Martin Beck and Mr. Meyerfield ran backstage in nothing flat
and canceled the guy immediately— by the way, he never did get
to do the trick; he got scared with the terrific laugh he got. Beck,
besides canceling him, wanted to punch him in the nose. Backstage
it was just a young riot— the actors and stagehands didn't dare laugh
(that is, in front of Martin Beck) . Well, it was finally straightened
out when they found out that Eddie Carr rehearsed the poor guy
for eight weeks and told him it would be a big "heet"l It was.
Everybody looked for Eddie, especially the Spaniard— with a dag-
gerl But Edclie, after hearing how his gag got over, went out talking
to bartenders, Carr got back on the bill when everybody got the
humor of it (even the Spaniard), and because Eddie's brother-in-
law happened to be a very powerful manager, Mike Shea of Buffalo!
And he started doping what else he could do to keep the actors
laughing. We in vaude called him Feck's Bad Boy . . , a terrific
guy with a great sense of humor.
Lefty's Letters &
Allez OOP! Acrobats and acrobatics started way back when court
jesters did rollovers and handsprings for kings! They carried on
through history until variety shows came along; in fact they started
shows and also closed them— even when it was called vaudeville!
Me and Aggie don't go along with "he's a dumb acrobat"— be-
cause we met plenty of 'em, and they may have been uneducated
from a schooling standpoint, but me and Aggie would listen to
many of 'em tell about their travels all over the world through
many a bottle of beer and it was fascinating listening. Most of 'em
came from poor families (as most of us did) and were apprentices
for short dough, and even when they got their own acts continued
getting short dough because acrobats were a dime a dozen. Euro-
pean troupes would come over, get a flat and sleep five high, cook
a stew for the gang— and rehearse the rest of the time. But they
were real nice guys.
Many acrobats in vaude resent being called acrobats; I don't
know why, but they like to be classed in their own particular field
of acrobatics. But to me and Aggie anybody who puts his feet in the
rosin box (except dancers) is an acrobat and there is certainly noth-
ing to be ashamed of. There are really many angles of acrobatics:
tumblers, trapeze, bar acts, trampoline, strong acts, casting acts,
barrel jumpers, high kickers, leapers, equilibrists, roman rings, stilts,
ladder acts, flying rings, revolving ladder, perch, rislcy, wall scaling,
rolling globes, contortionists, wire walkers, bareback riders, etc. I
can't mention all of these sons and daughters of the rosin box; it-
would be like calling the roll in the army. So I'll mention just
a few sort of ad-lib.
Angelo Armento and his brother, who were Mexicans, were the
greatest tumblers; Angelo was a lightning tumbler. Henry Roldcn,
who worked with the Hassel Benali Troupe, was considered the
greatest Negro acrobat in show biz. Acott & Bailey were also great
Negro acrobats. They played very little over here, but went to
Europe, where they were a sensation, and stayed there. Maxell!
Troupe of ten had a kicl who was the first to do a real triple somer-
sault—he was only fourteen years old and was imported by the
Barnum & Bailey Circus. Now in 1953 he is working in pics under
the name of Richard Talmadge (he doubled for years for Fair-
banks, St.). The Judge Family were one of the first to juggle human
beings . . . great! Bush Bros, were the funniest of the bounding-
bed (trampoline) acts; for a finish one of the boys did seventy-five
AND THEY CALLED 'EM DUMB ACTS! 29
somersaults in the bed. The big laugh throughout their act was
when one kicked the other in the mouth and he kept spitting out
his teeth (beans). Seymour & Dupree had a great act: O. G. Sey-
mour would jump over the head of his wife, Katie, then over an
upright piano. The Seven Bracks were a great risley act.
Speaking about risley work (that is, juggling people with the
feet), nobody seems to know how it ever became known as risley
work. I was sure that it was named after the person who originated
it— it must have been hundreds of years ago— maybe even before
anybody was called Risley.
Rice & Prevost were the greatest of all American comedy acro-
bats. Eddie Prevost would fall in the pit. His brother Howard was
one of the first to develop a double somersault without a spring-
board. Boganny's Lunatic Bakers jumped in and out of ovens. The
Three Rianos made up as monkeys and were great. Collins & Hart
were the burlesque strong men, holding each other up on a finger
(one of them was on a wire)— one of the veteran teams of comedy
acrobats. Bert Melrose with his falling tables was a riot in vaude
for many years. In 'The Briants" (Walter and Paul) act "The
Movers" Walter handled Paul like a dummy until the finish. It was
one of vaude's big comedy acts. Paul's dummy mask was made by
Walter, who was a very fine sculptor. La Veen & Cross and Bellclaire
Bros, were class acrobats. Caron & Herbert originated the diving into
the backdrop, which would come down and the audience would see
stage hands playing cards, a gal fixing her stocking, etc., all supposed
to be a surprise to them—and they all acted as if it was an accident. A
very big laugh and of course many acts copied it. Welsh, Mealy &
Montrose, comedy acrobats, were real funny. "Scream" Welsh was a
character; before going on stage he would screw his large diamond
stud on his underwear so he wouldn't lose it. An Englishman who
once dressed with him, when asked back in London what he
thought of the American acrobats, said, "They wear the dirtiest
underwear and the largest diamonds I have ever seen/'
Marceline, the famous clown, and "Slivers" Oakley, another
famous clown (both committed suicide because they couldn't get
work) were really tops, Toto, who made his entrance on the stage in
a toy auto with his clog Whisky-— the car was so tiny you wouldn't
think you could get a clog iny much less a man— was a standard
vaude act for years until he went blind. Luke Wilson did a bar act
at the age of seventy-two; he was originally with the "Span of
Lefty's Letters 30
Life" (they were on a wire), where three men made a chain to
rescue a gal from a roof fifteen feet away. Alex Patti & Brother
created a sensation when Alex went down a long flight of steps on
his head. One night at Joel's Restaurant Tom McNamarra, the
cartoonist, ribbed him that it was a fake, and that he had the stairs
or his head padded. After a few drinks Alex got so angry he said,
4il will show it is not a fake." He went to the top of the iron steps
in Joel's and came down on his head step by step. There was no
damage to the steps or his head. The Gee-Jays were a standard
acrobat act. The Three Keatons, Joe, Myra, and Buster, were one
of the real great knockabout acrobatic acts. Buster became a big
star in pics and is still going great on TV. And of course George &
Dick Rath, billed as the Rath Brothers, held a feature spot in the
Ziegfeld Follies and became a headline act in vaude. They were
swell-built guys and did slow lifts (many others did this type
work, but they didn't have the class or showmanship of the Rath
Brothers).
The tops of the wire acts were the Carmen Troupe, who were
first to use five people on a tight wire, and the Youngnian Family,
who were the first to do a back somersault with umbrellas on a
tight wire. Cadieux (from Pawtucket, Rhode Island) was just great
doing a bounding-wire act. Juan Caiccdo was the best bounding-
wire act from Spain. Kartella (his right name was Julian St. George)
was in the opinion of wire walkers without a doubt the greatest
slack-wire act in the world. He did what they called impossible
tricks, like doing a handstand on the seat of a unicyclc on a slack
wire and standing on a kitchen chair bouncing four balls while
balancing on wire, and for a finish stood on his head on wire play-
ing a clarinet. Could you ask for anything more? The Eddy Family,
swell. Don & Lora Valadon were tight- and slack-wire cyclists, Lora
did her famous "slide for life" from the balcony to the stage, and
was billed as "Mile-a-Minute" Lora. A fine artist. And of cotusc
the one and only Bird Millman was the tops of 'em alll
Among the comedy bicycle acts me and Aggie liked Charles
Ahearn & Co. and Ben Beyer & Brother, who in 19 js booked them-*
selves for a month's stay at the Scala in Berlin for 1936* They
figured by that time the Hitler regime would be defunct (PJS,:
They didn't play it.) Ralph Johnstone originated the trick of jump-
ing his wheel up and down stairs, gripping the saddle with his
thighs and not as many supposed, holding on the handle bars; he
AND THEY CALLED 'EM DUMB ACTS! 3*
also turned a somersault with a wheel. He became one of the
pioneer stunt pilots of an airplane and gave me and Aggie our first
trip in a plane. We had to have our hearts examined before we
went up; after he gave us a few thrills in the air is the time they
should have examined our hearts. Poor Ralph died when his wing
broke off 400 feet in the air. A great guy and a pioneer in trick
bicycling and airplanes. There were the Original Six Kaufmans;
Cycling McNutts; Hill & Sylvany (unicycles); Calotta, who looped
the loop; Fred St. Onge & Co., who used all kinds of wheels and
were pioneers in bicycling acts; the Brothers Soncrant, who rode
buggy wheels; the Royal Polo Team, who played polo on wheels;
the Cycling Brunettes, La Salbini, who juggled while dressed in
skin tights riding a wheel— she was a beautiful gal with a beautiful
form, so who cared if she juggled or not?
And the greatest comedy act on or off a bicycle was the panto-
mimist Joe Jackson. When he first showed his act at a theater out
of town, the manager sent in a report to the booking office: "A
funny act, but he can't ride a bicycle." The funny part of it was
that Joe was once a racing rider. Joe Jackson died after taking his
bows at the Roxy Theater, He died a hit, like he always was. His
son is now doing his act, and doing it very well, but there was
only one Joe Jackson!
There were many great aerial acts, but there are a few that were
great in vaudeville: Aerial Budcls, Lohse & Sterling, Six Flying
Vanvards, Break-a-way Barlows, Alciclc Capitaine, who was known
as "the perfect woman and aerial queen/7 Flying Martins, Dainty
Marie, who clicl a strip tease on rope and flying rings, Harry Thriller,
who balanced on a chair and broom handle on, the trapeze, the
Jungrnan Family, and of course C-II-A^M-I-O-N, who was a head-
liner, and Lillian Lcfeel, who was the greatest; she did forty revo-
lutions by one hand. She met an untimely death when she fell
while performing in Copenhagen, A wonderful artist.
The casting acts were always thrilling to watch. They had two
uprights set about 20 feet apart, one man on each cradle. They'd
throw humans from one to another, some doing single and most
always finishing with a triple somersault (worked with a net). Some
worked without a net until the law was passed compelling nets to
be used. Some of the real greats in this line were the Four Lukens,
the Casting Dunbars, the Four Londons, the Duffin-Redcay
Troupe, and the Four Readings.
Lefty's Letters 3a
The horizontal bar acts, straight and comedy, were always good
for a laugh and a thrill. There were a lot of them in the early days
of variety, but then they seemed to die out except in circuses. But
a few came back on TV and were a real novelty. Newell & Shevett
did the longest twisting somersault ever done, Graggar Bros, did
great falls, LaMoyne Bros, did a swell triple-bar act, as did the
Camille Trio. The Artoise Bros, were the only ones doing triple
over bars. Mason & Bart and Rice, Scully & Scott also did great
comedy bar acts.
Skating, both roller and ice, was very well represented in vaude-
ville by Earl Reynolds & Nellie Donegan, who were a stand-by in
vaude for many years. (Earl Reynolds is now a state senator in
Indiana.) There were Steel & Winslow, Van Horn & Inez, Sprague
& McNeese, Coogan & Bancroft, Beeman & Anderson (one of the
best), Athos & Reeves (Percy Athos is now a producer in London)
El Rey Sisters, Roy Harrah (great), the Nathano Bros., and Paul
Garret. Did you know that Jim Barton, the great comedian, started
in show biz as a skater? (Barry & Barton.) Sanely Lang (now a
wealthy toy manufacturer in Chicago) and his girls were a standard
act for many years on the Big Time. The Sakatells and Anderson &
Revell were great names on the marquee.
But all the old-timers agree that the Three Whirlwinds— tliree
Chicago kids, Frank Weisner, a truck driver (still around) and
Harry Avers and Buddy Carr, truck mechanics— -who wore rink-
skating white pants and shirts and used a handmade mat, were the
tops. They came to the theater without music and just said to
the leader, "play anything you can play fastest." They had no
technique, and without regard to life and limb this amassing trio
miraculously slam-banged their way to the Palace, New York, in
the first six months of their try-in in show bias. They made the
Earl Carroll Vanities by the end of the year, then the Strand Roof
with top billing and several command performances in Europe,
and oblivion in three short years! You just know they must have
been great to have accomplished all this, Buddy Carr, now fat and
forty, a bartender, sez, 'The thing I know less about is skating/'
Roller skating was one of the real big crazes that hurt show bisr,
for a time. There were thousands of large arenas, especially iu the
West and Southwest, and one of the largest skating rinks for
Negroes only at Fort Worth, Texas. In 1907 there was an ice skater
named Roamin; he would freeze water and skate on a block of ice
AND THEY CALLED 'EM DUMB ACTSl 33
5 feet square; he said he had a secret that would revolutionize the
artificial ice business. Don't know what ever became of him.
There were hoop rollers, who were always entertaining and in-
teresting. Everhart was called the "Christopher Columbus of
Hoops"; Ollie Young and April were one of the best acts, as were
J. Francis Wood and the Nicholas Nelson Troupe. The Kratons
(Negroes) had the finest novelty hoop act. It was a "Hoop Village"
with a "drunken hoop." Colored hoops denoted different char-
acters, all woven into a story. The drunken hoop was a scream.
Eugene Adams was the greatest of his time, in this line.
Variety and later vaudeville was just packed with bag punchers,
as bag punching was being taken up by many people for home
exercise. The Seebacks were the champs and winners of the Fox
Medal, and they were a standard big-time act for many years.
Strong-man acts were liked mostly by women, who admired the
physique and the strength of the strong men, but the men in the
audience (especially the tiny skinny guys) resented them and felt
like they were being shown up. The greatest of the strong men and
who received the most publicity was Sandow, who was managed by
Flo Ziegfeld, later the famous Ziegfeld of the Follies. But there
were many strong-men (and women) acts who made the tour of
the big- and small-time circuits year after year. Martha Farra, a
little i2opound woman, held an auto with twelve men in it while
lying on her back on a board of nails. Alba was another strong
woman. Apollo lifted a half a dozen men on a piano. Bertish had
a zjopound cannon ball fall on his body. Wilfred Cabana lifted
an auto, while Fred Carrol (Englishman) bit spikes in half. The
Francclias were a man-and-woman act. He would hold her by the
hair with his teeth while he did a cakewalk, Ben Meyer lifted a
man with his teeth and walked up a tall ladder. Joe Bonomo did a
strong act in vaudeville before he worked in pictures. Orville Stamm
was a small man but did a fine strong act. Strong-man acts were
booked because they could put on a good publicity stunt in front
of the theater, usually with two teams of horses (or autos) trying
to pull the strong man apart. The horses would actually pull against
each other (via a gimmick). The strong men all did mostly the
same routines, driving big spikes through a plank with their hands,
bending iron bars, biting spikes, and lifting many people and
objects,
Me and Aggie were on our way to play a date in Allentown,
Lefty's Letters 34
Pennsylvania, in a day coach and had trouble trying to open the
car window. A big handsome guy (with a thick German accent)
offered to help us. He struggled with it for ten minutes and couldn't
budge it. The trainman came along and raised the window in a
few seconds. When we got to the theater all the acts were on stage
for music rehearsal and to our surprise there was the big German.
When he saw us he quickly came over and said, "Blease dunt say
nodding about de vindow on de train. I am de strong man on de
bill here."
Boomerang throwing was a novelty for a while in vaude. Van &
Belle were pioneers of the boomerang acts, and Rawson & June
threw boomerangs and javelins. Many of them did other things
besides boomerang throwing, as the one thing became very monot-
onous. The Australian Waites also did whip cracking, and the
Three Scotch McGradys threw booms and also did arrow shooting
and acrobatics.
Tank acts (swimming and diving) were a great attraction in the
old museum days and later played variety and vaucle houses. One of
the first was Enoch, 'The Man Fish" who while in a tank of water
placed a pail over his head and sang, also played trombone under
water. Some ate bananas, etc. But it was Annette Kcllcrman who
really started the "water nymph" and diving acts. She was the
first to wear a one-piece bathing suit, which caused a sensation and
received plenty of publicity. She had a beautiful figure and when
the water hit that tight-fitting black suit . . . B-R-O-T-H-K-R! She
was a great box-office attraction for many years. When Kcil'h stole
her from William Morris (who discovered her), Morris engaged
Rose Pitnof, a fifteen-year-old girl who swam from Charleston
Bridge to Boston Light and was a local sensation, but as you know
it takes more than fifteen years to develop a figure like Kcllcrman's,
and Rose couldn't combat Kellerman at the box office. Another big
attraction was Odiva and her seals. She swam in a tank with a seal
and duplicated all of the seal's swimming tricks. You could easily
tell Odiva from the seal, for she wore a one-piece bathing suit over
a swell figure.
There were many diving acts swimming into vaudeville once
Annette Kellerman broke the dam: Maude & Gladys Finney, the
Six Water Lillies, Lottie Mayer. The Berlo Sisters had a fine act;
at the finish their mother (real mother), about sixty, got up on
stage from the audience to save her daughters, and— yep, yott
AND THEY CALLED 'EM DUMB ACTS! 35
guessed it— fell in the tank fully clothed. (A big laugh, of course.)
Gertrude Hoffman in her big act of imitations did a burlesque of
Kellerman and finally dived in the tank on a wire.
One of the oddest tank acts was Sam Mahoney, an Arctic
swimmer. He swam in a tank of ice, and for a finish he would sit
on a cake of ice and tell the audience about the beauty of physical
culture and deep breathing, etc. I forget the rest of his act, be-
cause by that time Aggie had my "longies" ready. Tank acts were
expensive, as a crew had to go a week ahead to put up the tank.
We played with many of them where the tank leaked and the
dressing rooms in the basement were flooded. That's how we
learned that Ivory Soap floats but Stein's make-up doesn't'.
Sharpshooters were always an attraction in vaude, especially after
a war. Stage sharpshooters never place a human life in jeopardy, so
when you see the marksman shoot a ball from off the head, etc., it
is really an optical illusion, because the ball is actually placed from
a foot to a foot and a half above the head, but to the back of the
subject, giving the audience an upward range of vision. And sharp-
shooters use what they call splash bullets that spread, and so it
isn't very hard to hit the resin balls and pipes, etc. When they
shoot at objects held by humans, they use a specially prepared
bullet that can't inflict an injury. But still they have to be excellent
marksmen. Pauline Cook & May Clinton were among the first
women sharpshooting acts; they played musical instruments by
shooting at the keys. Benny Franklin was the youngest. Others
were General Pisano, the Randalls, Corrigan & Vivian, Chevalier
dc Louis, Cook & Madison (who did a comedy sharpshooting act) .
In the Two Vivians' act, he shot an apple off his partner's head,
and Miss Vivian played the chimes by shooting from the balcony.
Henry & Alice Taylor shot through a tube and also at swinging
targets. The lolccn Sisters did sharpshooting while swinging on a
wire, as did Kit Carson, The Dcda Veils had a French gal that was
really great. Jack Texas Sullivan did gun fanning— old Western
stuff where they filed off the triggers and pushed back the hammers
with their thumbs, in that way being able to fire quicker than by
using a trigger. That was O.K. on the old guns, but today the
trigger works faster than any gun fanner can do it. St. Ferdinan
Thetron used revolvers instead of rifles and was real great. Due to
an aceident where an empty shell hit a lady in the eye as it jumped
Lefty's Letters 3S
from the gun, many managers barred sharpshooting acts for a
long time.
I must tell you the story about a certain Frenchman (again I
refuse to be sued, so I won't mention his name) who did a great
sharpshooting act. He didn't understand or speak much English,
but a performer on the bill (at the old Hippodrome) told him he
should explain his opening trick to the audience, which was shoot-
ing off his wife's wrap as she stood on a raised platform, and when
he shot off what looked like the buttons of her wrap she was re-
vealed in tights and really looked beautiful. The "buttons'7 on the
wrap were really tiny white rubber balls with black dots painted on
them which made them look like large buttons from the front of
the house. You can imagine the surprise of everybody, stagehands,
actors, musicians, management, and audience, whqi this French-
man, who had been doing his act without a word for two weeks,
stepped down to the footlights one matinee, stopped the music,
and in broken English said, "Laddies & Gentlemens, I wecl now
proceed tu shoot the balls off my wife!" When they explained to
him what he had said, he took all his guns and went hunting for
the actor who taught him the speech. He never found him I
There were roping and whip acts, strictly Western stuff. Clinton
& Beatrice, "Chuck" Haas, the Chamberlains (who did lasso and
whips), Fred Lindsay, and the Shephards were great whip manipu-
lators; Jack & Violet Kelly also did a good whip act. Shield & Rogers
(one Indian and one cowboy) did roping; La Due, Guy Weadick's
wife, was a champ roper. Then there was a guy by the name of
Will Rogers, who started with a rope, a horse, and an assistant,
then started doing a single and became the greatest monologist of
topical topics of our time. But he was really a great roper too and
never gave it up.
There were hundreds of contortionists during the heyday of
variety, usually coming from the circuses and museums. Among
the best was Zeeda, billed as "The Snake Man" (Zcech & Hoot,
known before as Dilla & Templeton). Mercer Tcmplctou and his
brother Jimmy (Templeton Bros.) became great contortion and
straight dancers. There were Byers & Herman, Herman & Shirley
(Herman was the "Dancing Skeleton"), Ben Dova (still doing great
on TV), the Le Grohs, Demonio & Bell, and Yuma.
Years ago Yuma couldn't get in to sec J. J, Murdock (then the
manager of the Masonic Temple in Chicago) for bookings. He had
AND THEY CALLED ?EM DUMB ACTS! 37
himself packed in a small box and delivered to Mr, Murdock's
office. When J. }. opened the box, Yuma came out dressed as a
devil. Murdock was scared into booking Yuma for a week at the
Temple. H. B. Marinelli, one of the top European and American
booking agents, started in show biz as "The Boneless Wonder."
And did you know that the great Houdini started as a contortionist
and trapeze artist in Appleton, Wisconsin? The first contortion-
ist on program records was Walter Wentworth, who started back
bending in 1872. (You know there were front benders and back
benders and just a few that could do both.) Of course the man
that outlasted all the old-time contortionists was the late Ferry,
"The Frog Man," who worked at the age of eighty.
I must put posing acts among the dumb acts, because for a long
time they were part of variety bills. It was way back in 1875 that
the manager of the Comique, New York, was in trouble with his
posing groups. Judged to be unchaste by the puritan minds yelling
about the female form in skin-fitting silken tights, some managers
threw a cloak over the gals. At the Comique, "The Rock of Ages"
tableaux was posed by young beauties in fleshings, and this scandal-
ized people. The Clipper wrote:
"Matt Morgan's statuary
Think our police a bore
Which makes each statue wary
To wear a little more."
These, of course, were almost all gone and transferred to bur-
lesque when vaudeville took over for real. Instead of the old-time
tableaux with no beauty, there came to vaudeville some really
beautiful posing acts. William Edirette with horse and dog was
billed as "The Act Beautiful," and it was. Also Andree's Studies
(in china and ivory), Brenck's Bronze Horse, Neptune's Garden,
Maxim's Models, Frank Stafford & Dog (a beautiful act; Frank
did some fine whistling too), Weston's Models, Marble's Gems,
the Five Golden Graces, who posed with golden tint on their
bodies, the Frey Trio, in wrestling poses. Maude O'Dell, in 1908,
was the first strip teaser, posing instead of dancing, or I should
say walking, in time to the music; she would pose, and after each
pose she would wear less clothes, and didn't start with much. It
got pretty bad and the police made her put on more clothes. Three
Seldon's Living Pictures, Seldon's Venus, and in igo6 Hathaway 's
Lefty's Letters 38
Indian Tableaux, "Love and Revenge of American Indians/' and
a few more were really artistic and brought novelty to vaude bills.
There were a few gals who posed in the nude, but were painted
with gold leaf . , . and on them it looked good!
I almost forgot to mention a guy who started in show biz as a
dumb act and hit the jack pot of international fame and fortune-
Charlie Chaplin.
And they called 'em "dumb acts"-Ha ha, SEZ
Your pal7
LEFTY
Forto-
Dear Joe,
The song-and-dance men have always been the life blood of
vaude. In the early clays of variety they were the top guys, but
later on they were looked upon like a "club fighter'* in the fight
racket. They had a half a dozen on every bill. IV) hear a legit or
"talking" act say the word "hoofer" was the new low in sneers!
But to me and Aggie (who started as hoofers), they always repre-
sented real vaude more than any other kind of an act. They had
a certain fire and ambition through the years that no other kind of
performers ever had. They took the racket seriously and were always
talking about their act. They'd get up in the middle of a meal in
any restaurant and show you a step they'd "originated"; they'd
show you a new,(?) step in front of the Palace, New York, or the
Palace in Keokuk.
An honest-to-God hoofer really believed that his act meant more
on the bill than the headliners! If it didn't get over, he had a
million alibis. "The music was bad" was sure-fire? and there were
many more, like "Our spot was bad/' "My partner is lousy/* "There
was no rosin box/' "We were breaking in new shoes/' "I just got
over 'newmonyeh' and I couldn't get my breath/* "We didn't have
THE LAST EIGHT BARS FORTE PROFESSOR! 39
our new threads (suits) on/' or ''We were working in new suits
and it boddered us." Mostly it was the music that got the blame,
and as an ex-hoofer I'll say they were right 95 per cent of the time.
Me and Aggie in all our years of show biz hardly ever saw a
dancing act (even if it was a hit) that didn't come off fighting.
We've seen 'em hit each other with wooden shoes, yell, scream,
faint, and go through the regular temperamental routines of hoof-
ers; but there was one team of dancers (and good ones too) with
whom we played for many years and never saw them do anything
but kiss each other when they came off stage. They were the Glid-
ing O'Mearas, two swell micks that came from Double-Fifth (that's
Tenth Avenue), and little Timmy, who didn't weigh no pounds
with anchors in his hands, would punch Joe Louis in the nose if
he thought he had a beef. I don't know what he did to his sweet
wife when he got her in the dressing room, but when a couple of
micks (especially hoofers) can control themselves like they did
through the years of hoofing, me and Aggie sez, "More power to
yem."
Now I don't say the other hoofing acts were wrong when they
went through their temperamental routines, because me and Aggie
know what it is to have your music loused up and the audience
helping it along by no clapping, and you're sweating and outta
breath and — oh, hoofers have a million legit excuses! As I said, me
and Aggie were hoofers once, but I left no marks on her— my Aggie
is a quick healer! All I can say is that hoofers are honest-to-God
children of vaudeville — and they're awful nice people when they're
not dancingl
Many of the low-down hoofers reached the heights, I say
"hoofers" for anybody that ever dipped his feet in a rosin box and
gave the tempo to the orchestra leader by stomping before he made
his entrance. I don't care if they wore ballet skirts or wooden shoes,
they were all hoofers! There were a lot of different style dancers.
Clog, pedestal, sand, soft-shoe, buck and wing, acrobatic, skirt,
rough-house, neat song-and-dance, legomania, eccentric, rough
wooden-shoe, cane, rope-skipping, chair, roller- and ice-skating,
cooch, Hawaiian, ballet, toe, Russian, Salom6, Scotch, apache, ball-
room, Texas Tommy, grizzly bear, turkey trot, Cakewalk, shimmy
and jazz, tap, Charleston, black bottom, low-down, varsity drag,
sugar-foot strut, adagio, big apple (also little pear and little peach),
Lambeth walk, and so many many more. I just wanted to let you
Lefty's Letters 40
know the terrific competition in the dance line. I didn't mention
bubble, dove, or strip-tease dancing, because they never belonged
or ever got in vaudeville, thank God!
Vaude had many crazes, but there were more dance crazes than
any of the others. In 1890 Carmencita appeared at Koster and
Dial's. She did the fandango, a sort of a waltz done with castanets,
which had steps like the tango but was not done to the same tempo.
The comics of the day burlesqued this dance, as they did all others.
The Spanish craze lasted for a couple of years. Before, most danc-
ing had been done in ballet costumes with short skirts, which were
lengthened to the ankles when the "skirt dance" came in.
After about three years of seeing medium and ankle-length cos-
tumes, the customers got to longing for a peep at the undraped
figure, so when Loie Fuller, dressed in a full-length transparent
skirt7 came into the spotlight with her "serpentine" dance, Miss
Fuller and the dance jumped into favor. Closely following the
serpentine came the "fire dance," with cheap electrical effects.
The "butterfly" and other variations of the serpentine and fire
dances were also popular, In these dances all the gals did was prac-
tically pose in transparent gowns and a guy from the orchestra pit-
would throw different colored slides on them, like fire effect, butter-
flies, etc. The gal had two long sticks to which the bottom of the
gown was attached, and she would wave the sticks while the slides
were thrown on the gown and it would make a pretty effect, but
you saw nothing! It really wasn't even a dance!
High kicking was the next craze. Evelyn Law and Charlotte
Greenwood were great in this line. With the high kicks came the
splits and different forms of Icgomania that lasted for about four
years,, and then gradually settled clown to a standard form of
vaudeville dancing.
One of the biggest crazes in dancing was the hootchy-kootehy.
It was first introduced by Little Egypt at the Chicago World's Fair
of 1893 as a specialty in the Nautch Village, Aycslia brought the
"dances du venture" to vaude and burlesque. In 1894 at Coney
Island, New York, there were fifteen to twenty "cooch shows" run-
ning full blast, each claiming to have the original Fatima, another
sensational dancer of the Fair. One of these dancers later became
a vaude headlincr as "Rajah" (she danced holding a chair in her
teeth at Huber's Museum, when Willie Hammcrstcin discovered
her there and booked her, which started her on a big-time career) ,
THE LAST EIGHT BARS FORTE PROFESSOR! 41
Little Egypt was engaged to entertain at the Seeley dinner given in
honor of Herbert Seeley, a nephew of P. T. Barnum. Someone
blew the whistle to Captain Chapman (known as the Czar of the
Tenderloin in the '905), and just as Little Egypt was ready to pull
off a few nifty wriggles, Chapman with a flock of bulls broke in and
pinched everybody. The raid was front-paged and Weber & Fields
put on a burlesque of it in their show. This put the cooch on the
map. Although it didn't get much headway in vaude, it found
plenty of ground to work on in burly. They called it the "Oriental
Fantasy" and "Egyptian Serpentine" and other fancy names, but
it was still the cooch! (It was many years later when they added
the grind and bumps to it ... anything to further ari\ )
In 1908 the phoniest craze to hit vaude was the "Salom<§ dance."
This came to vaude via grand opera. Oscar Hammerstein produced
it for a single performance at his Manhattan Opera House. One
after another the single women of vaude started to do the Salom6
dance. Gertrude Hoffman was the first in America. Willie Ham-
merstein sent her over to London to see Maude Allen do it there
and she came back and did an imitation which was a sensation.
(Ruth St. Denis claims she did the dance in Paris in 1906— which
no doubt is true, but she didn't get the publicity.) Gertrude Hoff-
man stayed at Hammerstein's for many weeks and then went on
the road, managed by Morris Gest, who started as a ticket specu-
lator at Hammerstein's, then became press agent and scout for
Willie, and later became one of Broadway's most famous producers
(Miracle, etc.) . It was Eva Tanguay who really busted things wide
open for Salom6 dancers, when she discarded all seven veils. Ada
Ovcrton Walker, wife of George Walker of Williams & Walker
and a great dancer, put it on with Creatore's Band, which added a
string section to play for her. Malcolm Scott, an English female
impersonator, did a burly Salom6 around empty whisky bottles.
Lind?r another female impersonator, had an act called "Who Is It?"
He did a Salom6 and never took his wig off at the finish. The
Marco Twins (a tall and a short fellow) also did a funny burly on
it, as did hundreds of other comics. Julian Eltinge, the greatest
of all female impersonators, did a beautiful version of Salom6.
In Pittsburg there were prayers said by the community for the
saving of the soul of Miss Deyo of the Weber & Fields Co., which
was playing there at the time. Mile. Froelich was hooted off a
Yonkers stage with her Salomd Velaska Suratt did a mild version.
Lefty's Letters 42
Vera Alcore performed it at Huber's Museum, while Lotta Faust
danced it in The Girl Behind the Counter, Managers in Ohio,
West Virginia, Pennsylvania, and Kentucky banned the dance. The
Orpheum Circuit barred it from their bills. While all the Salomds
wore veils, showed figures in gauze skirts, and danced in bare feet,
La Sylph, a contortion dancer who did the nearest thing to the real
dance, wore fleshings to the neck! The craze lasted for about five
years and gradually died out, not only because of the ravings of
the reform elements but because it was overdone and was no longer
bringing returns at the box office!
In 1915 ragtime was the rage and all the shoulder-shaking, wrig-
gling, and finger-snapping epidemics, such as the grizzly bear,
bunny hug, Texas Tommy, and various "trots," arrived in vaucle
by the carload. Craze after craze came along and was taken up and
then forgotten, then after a decade or so revived. (They're sneak-
ing in the Charleston on TV right now.) Ballroom dancing went
over big, with the Castle walk, rnaxixe, fox trot, one-step, and
turkey trot. These made way for the shimmy. Bcc Palmer & May
Gray (later known as Gilda Gray), who were introduced to New
York by Sophie Tucker, were the greatest exponents of the quiver
shoulders. Ballin7 the jack, toodle-oo, Charleston, black bottom,
and jitterbug were all crazes, as well as control, acrobatic, adagio,
apache, Hawaiian, ballet, and tap dancing. It was a long cry from
the essence, sand jig, clog, buck and wing, sailor's hornpipe, soft-
shoe, Irish jig, Highland fling, pedestal clog, and the Cakewalk.
But a new set of feet were doing them.
The cakewalk was really one of the great dance crazes, not only
on stage but off stage as well. It was originally known as the "chalk-
line walk," danced by Negroes with pails of water on their heads.
The couple who spilled the least water were declared the winners.
It later was called the "prize walk/' then the "cakewalk wedding/'
which showed all stages of meeting, flirtation, courtship, engage-
ment, wedding, ancl off on the honeymoon. There were hundreds
of Cakewalk contests throughout the country, Johnson & Dean, a
Negro team, were the first to really do the professional stage cake-
walk. Some years later Genaro & Bailey were its foremost white
exponents. The craze lasted for many years and even today we are
often reminded of it in pictures and TV.
In the early 19005 the old shuffle dance entirely disappeared;
soft-shoe, too. People thought wooden-shoe dancing was harder
THE LAST EIGHT BARS FORTE PROFESSOR1. 43
(it isn't). There were very few makers of wooden shoes in 1900,
and by 1907 there were dozens of firms specializing in them, so
you can imagine what a hold wooden-shoe dancing had on the
public. Buck dancing was also popular; contests were held and
championship medals were given out by owners of the Police
Gazette; they were known as Fox Medals after the owner of the
Gazette.
Some of the best hoofers within the memory of the boys and
girls who played hookey years ago and brought their schoolbooks
to their home-town vaude houses were Ben Ryan & George White.
Ryan teamed with Harriet Lee and became one of the great mixed
comedy teams, and White became the producer of the White
Scandals. Milt Wood danced while seated on a chair. One of the
best acrobatic wooden-shoe dancing acts was Emma Francis and
her Arabs. Bissett & "Hello George" Scott carried a little fox
terrier around with him that had a diamond tooth. He claimed it
was better bait to get gals than etchings. He later had a diamond
tooth in his own set (in case he didn't have the dog with him). The
Buttons, a Negro dancing act, would shout to the audience after
each step, "How's that?" Rose & Moon would dance back to back;
Dick Henry & Carrie Adelaide would change clothes on stage while
dancing. Purcella Bros, dressed like convicts with their legs fastened
together with a ball and chain. Clara Morton danced while play-
ing piano; Robert Stickney danced on stilts. When Sammy White
& Lou Clayton split, Sammy teamed up with Eva Puck and Lou
joined Jackson and Durante. There were the Three Du For Bros.,
the Three Hickey Bros., and Cook & Sylvia (Phil Cook was the
holder of a Fox Medal and was one of the greatest of the wooden-
shoe dancers). Others that held Fox Medals were Ida May Chad-
wick, Maude Kramer, and Lulu Becson, all champ clog dancers.
The Four Fords were the greatest dancing family. Dotson, a
Negro, was a fine dancer. Pat Rooncy & Marion Bent were the
king and queen of waltz clog, Sammy Lee (now a Hollywood dance
producer) and Harry Evans had an act Called 'Trip Around the
World" and did the dances of the different countries. Lou Lockett
& Jack Waklron, Boyle & Brazil (Boyle was one of the best all-
round dancers), the Six American Dancers, with the Lovenbcrg
Sisters, Charles O'Connor, Pearl Davenport, and Purcella & Orbin,
were all great hoofers. Among the brother dancing teams there
were the Field Bros*, Gaits Bros,, Foley Bros,, Ward Bros, (hold-
Lefty's Letters 44
ers of the Fox Medal), King, King & King, Three Slate Bros., Four
Small Bros., Ritz Bros., Condos Bros., all great.
When you think of stair dancing, you naturally think of the late
and great Bill "Bojangles" Robinson. But there were a number of
stair dancers before Bill. There were Al Leach (& His Rosebuds)
who did the first stair dance, the Whitney Bros., who did a musical
stair dance at Hyde and Behman's in 1899, and Mack & Williams,
who did a single, double, and triple stair dance in 1915; Paul
Morton and his lovely wife Naomi Glass also did a stair dance.
But it took Bill Robinson's great showmanship and personality to
make the stair dance his trade-mark and to make him one of the
most popular dance artists on the American stage. It all came about
by accident, like most successes. Bill started with his partner in
vaude (Cooper & Robinson), then did a single, and was estab-
lished as a single singer and dancer with a few gags thrown in when
he played the Palace. At the Palace there are four steps on each
side of the stage for the use of an actor when he has to go down
to the audience or for a committee who are asked to come up on
the stage. One matinee Bill came down to the audience to greet
some friends (ad lib), and when he came back to the stage he
ad-libbed a dance up the steps, which got a big laugh and plenty
applause. Need I tell you more? A great showman like Bill "kept
it in" the rest of the week. But all the theaters didn't have those
steps, so Bill had his famous staircase built and made dancing
history with something that had been done many years before him,
but it was his great dancing and his great showmanship that put it
over and made him a headlined
The ballroom dancers started clogging up the vaucle stages about
1915, and it brought hundreds of hicks in evening clothes to vaucle,
Maurice & Florence Walton were not only one of the pioneer acts
but also one of the great teams of ballroom dancers. Irene and
Vernon Castle (the Castles) were the darlings of dance-inad Amer-
ica. They set the style in ballroom dancing, women copied Irene's
hair cut (she was the first to wear a bob), they copied her clothes,
and they tried very hard to dance like her. In 1914 they were at
the top of their career. On a week of one-night stands they brought
in $31,000 (a lot of loot those days, especially for a dance team),
The war, not a decline in their popularity, brought to a close the
Castle legend. Vernon went to England to join the Royal Flying
Corps as a second lieutenant, won a captaincy by shooting clown
THE LAST EIGHT BARS FORTE PROFESSOR'. &
two German planes, was sent back to Canada to train pilots, and
when we got in the war he went to Texas to teach our boys. He was
killed in a flying accident while there. Some years later Irene tried
to do an act with other partners, but it just wasn't the Castles!
It would be impossible to mention all the ballroom dancers, be-
cause everybody who had or could borrow a full-dress suit became
one! But there were a number that were real tops and remained
in vaude long after the craze. Evelyn Nesbit and Jack Clifford, who
really started out as a "freak act" via the great publicity Evelyn
received in the Thaw case, became not only a good box-office at-
traction but a very good dancing act. Others were Martin Brown
and Rozicka Dolly, Hale & Patterson, Joan Sawyer & John Jarrott,
Carl Hyson & Dorothy Dickson, Carlos Sebastian & Dorothy
Bentley, Mae Murray & Clifton Webb, Fanchon & Marco (who
later became the producers of the famous Fanchon & Marco
Units), Guiran & Marguerite, Jose & Burns (yep, that was George
Burns of the now famous comedy team of Burns & Allen) , Addison
Fowler & Florence Tamara ( first dancing act to have their names in
lights at the Palace), the Gigatanos, the Merediths, Ramon &
Rosita, Harrison & Fisher, the Dancing Kennedys, the Gliding
O'Mearas, the Marvelous Millers, the De Forests, Cortez & Peggy,
Moss & Fontana, Veloz & Yolanda, and of course the champs,
Tony & Renee De Marco.
There were real great regular dancing acts that did all types of
dancing, like Adelaide & Hughes (played twelve consecutive weeks
at the Palace, the record), and Fred & Adele Astaire, who were
stars on Broadway after a long and honest apprenticeship in vaude
and broke up when Adele decided to become Lady Cavendish;
Fred became tops of all-round dancers. I remember the ad the
Astaires ran in Variety in June 1917, a full page that read, "Doing
big in the West, what will the East say?" Well, as you know, it
said they were greatl Then there were Bradley & Ardine, Riggs and
Witcliic, Burns & Fulton, Hal Le Roy, and Ed Ernie & Emil
Honcgger, monopede dancers. One had the right leg off and the
other the left, and they each wore the same size shoe, so they
would buy one pair of shoes. Of course Peg Leg Bates, the Negro
monopede dancer, is the greatest of them all, Ivan (Bankoff &
Girlie) introduced the Russian hock step into regular dancing.
Others were Dorothy Stone and Charles Collins, Martin & Fabrini
(who now draws the cartoon "Winnie Winkle"), Vilrna & Buddy
Leftf s Letters 46
Ebsen, the Lockfords, Joe Frisco, the originator of the jazz dance,
who with his cigar and derby hat created a sensation and had many
imitators, and Piker & Douglas, assisted by George Raft (who did a
hot Charleston).
Among the toe dancers of vaude we had Adele Genee, Bessie
Clayton, Harriet Hoctor, Adelaide, Mazie King, and a local gal that
Mark Leucher brought back from Paris where he took her to plant
the rep. He called her Le Domino Rouge (her right name was
La Belle Daizie) ; she wore a red mask on and off the stage and got
plenty of publicity. She finally got tired of the continual masking
and gave it up and was known on the stage as Mile. Dazic (in
private life she was Mrs. Leucher). Menzeli, known as Girlie
(Bankoff & Girlie), was once picked by Adele Genee as one of
the best dancers in the world. (She and Bankoff had to split be-
cause the booking office couldn't pay the act enough dough,)
Sally Rand once did a toe dance at the Palace.
Of course we also had the adagio craze and it seemed that every
acrobat became an adagio dancer. Myrio originated the Adagio
Trios, and Ted Adolphus pioneered especially in comedy routines.
The apache was done by William Rock & Maude Fulton at Ham-
merstein's, beating G. Molasso & Mile, Corio to it by a few weeks.
Molasso was the originator and really the starter of the tidal wave
of apache acts.
Then there were the boys and gals with the 'laughing feet/' the
Edisons of hoofology, the great eccentric dancers. In the early
'gos the Majiltons were one of the first great teams of eccentric
dancers, but to come down to near now, there was a guy named
Tom Dingle who danced one night as an unknown at the Friars'
Frolic and became the sensation of Broadway, There were "Bunny"
Granville with his drunk dance and Jack Donahue with his famous
shadow dance. Renee Riano, Daphne Pollatd, Violet Carlson,
Martha Raye, Nellie Breen, Charlotte Greenwood, Fanny Bricc
(with her dying swan burlesque) were all very funny gals, Richards
(of Bennett & Richards) was acknowledged as one of the greatest
eccentric dancers and would have been a star, but because of
alimony trouble couldn't play New York. Harland Dixon (Doyle
& Dixon, the classiest two-man hoofing aet in show bix) was one
of the great eccentric dancers, originating many steps now used by
eccentric dancers. Fred Stone had a style all his own. Ix>uis Moscom
did an acrobatic eccentric dance that was great, Others were Jim
THESKETCH 47
Barton, one of the greats, Leon Enrol, the original rubber-legged
drunk, Al Leach, Al Lydell, Ray Bolger, one of the tops, Will
Mahoney with his "falling-down" dance and his great novelty of
dancing on a xylophone, Carl Francis, Ben Blue, a very funny
dancer, Eddie Foy, Jr., Dick Carle, Gil Lamb, Rags Leighton,
Bert Williams, Buster West, Willie Solar, Hal Skelly, Tom Smith,
and Johnny Boyle.
Some are gone, some have switched from Sloan's Liniment to a
throat gargle, and some are still hoofing.
With a deep bow of appreciation from me and Aggie to the real
greats of years ago like George Primrose, Barney Fagan, Eddie
Leonard, Patsy Doyle, Barney Ferguson, Eddie Foy, Sr., Bobby
Gaylor, Bobby Newcomb (who originated song and dance),
Blanche LaMont, the McNulty Sisters, Sam & Kitty Morton, Need-
ham & Kelly, Mike Scott, and Pat Rooney, Sr., I am sorry to say
that the dancers of today are miles ahead of the old ones. The
steady development in the art in conception and execution of
dance steps would amaze you. Any gal in the Radio City line can
outdance any old-time gal you could mention— I did not say "out-
personality" her— but dancing— the old-timers couldn't even touch
these kids. There are only two branches of vaude that are better
today than years ago— dancing and acrobatics!
Okay, perfessor, play the last eight bars forte . . . and get
us off. ... SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
The Sketch
Dear ]oef
The "'sketch" was the backbone of vaudevillel It shared honors
with the great comedy acts and put "class" into vaudeville!
In the old variety days, the afterpiece was the sketch of the bill.
Lefty's Letters 48
Later it was followed by Irish, Dutch, and blackface skits that used
a thin plot to introduce a song and dance or the playing of an
instrument. Many of us can still remember the skits of the early
days that opened up with the lady of the act walking to the foot-
lights with a letter in her hand, saying, "I wonder what I will do?
I just received a letter from my partner saying that he is unavoid-
ably detained and can not make the show tonight."
Just then a man enters with a trunk saying, "Say, lady, where
do you want this trunk?"
'Tut it in the next room. Say, you look like a bright young man.
Flow would you like to be an actor?"
"You mean an actor on the stage?"
"Yes," sez the lady. "You will find my partner's clothes in the
trunk. They should fit you; here's your part. Go in that room and
change, and I will put you on the stage with me." He exits and
she turns to the audience saying, "While he is getting ready, I will
rehearse my song."
Then she would sing a song and after the song he would conic
out dressed in maybe a misfit Roman gladiator's outfit, and— ych,
you guessed it— he would replace her partner.
Crude? Maybe, but it served the purpose, which was to get away
from a "specialty in one." In the early clays of vaudc a fnll-stngc
act was valuable because there were so many acts "in one" and a
full stage would break up the monotony. In later years it was just
the reverse.
To J. Austin Fynes, the manager of Keith's Union Square Thea-
tre (New York), goes the credit for bringing the great stars of the
legitimate stage to vaude. He paid fabulous salaries (for those
days) to lure them to the field that was looked down on by the
legits. They couldn't do specialties, so naturally Mr, Fynes had to
supply them with a vehicle, usually a dramatic sketch, for which
he had to hire a good author, llicre is no argument that these stars
added class to vaude, and also brought patrons who had never
before entered a vaudeville theater; they came, they saw, and be-
came steady customers.
There were two types of authors for vaude. Some of them could
write sketches, while others wrote comedy talk for specialty acts*
Only a few were versatile enough to write for both. Some of the
acts wrote their own stuff, but they were in the minority. Among
the good dramatic writers were Dave Belasco, Paul Armstrong, Sit
THE SKETCH 49
W. S. Gilbert, Arthur Hopkins, John Golden, Willard Mack, J. M.
Barrie, Roy Fairchild, Jack London, Roland West, Robert Garland,
Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Sam Shipman, Sir Conan Doyle. Some of
the comedy-sketch writers were Paul G. Smith, Will Cressy, George
Totten Smith, Billy K. Wells, George M. Cohan, Junie McCree,
James Madison, Matt Woodward, George Ade, Tommy Gray,
Bozeman Bulger, George Kelly, Clay M. Green, Al Boasberg, Ed-
win Burke, Ren Shields, Len Hollister, Gene Conrad, S. Jay Kauf-
man, Ralph T. Kettering, Bert Leslie, Edgar Allan Woolf, Roy
Atwell, and of course one of the greatest of all vaude writers, Aaron
Hoffman. There were a few that could do almost any kind of
writing, "gag stuff/' songs, comedy, and dramatic acts— but these
were very few. I believe that Edgar Allan Woolf, Will Cressy, Paul
G. Smith, and Tommy Gray wrote more acts than most of them.
Woolf and Cressy were practically booking-office writers; whenever
a legit needed an act for the Big Time, the office would recommend
a writer. Woolf and Cressy were great friends of Eddie Darling,
the head booker of the Keith Circuit, and his recommend was
practically an order.
Cressy & Dayne had a new sketch almost every season, sometimes
two. Ryan & Ritchfield were the first to introduce sequels to their
sketches: "Mag Haggerty's Reception," "Mag Haggerty in Society,"
etc. Ryan was one of the funniest Irish comics in all of show biz.
The way he said, "Is it?" was unforgettable! Bert Leslie also ran
sequels to his acts. He was the originator of slang in his skits, ex-
pressions like "Under the sink with the rest of the pipes," "Make
a noise like a hoop and roll away," etc. Junie McCree also used
slang in his character as a elope fiend; his was a natural slang while
Leslie's was sort of manufactured. J. C. Nugent was one of the first
sketch artists to open his act "in one," go to "full stage," and close
"in one." This enabled him to follow a full-stage act and also give
the stagehands a chance to set a full-stage act to follow him, which
made it an easy sketch to book. He would write his own acts, and
had a new one almost every season.
In the early days of variety and vaude, the sketch played in house
sets consisting of a "center-door fancy" or a "kitchen set," which
was a center-door fancy turned around, A kitchen in those days
was a miserable-looking place (according to vaude scenery). A
"rich man's home" usually contained odd furniture, a few rubber
or palm plants, and a few pieces of statuary. The property man was
Lefty's Letters 50
given a few passes to hand out to people he borrowed the furniture
from, but sometimes the stores insisted on program credits too.
As the sketches grew better and more plentiful, the sets improved
too, with better furniture, maybe a gold chair or two (that showed
it was a rich man's hut), a settee, a practical door or window,
drapes, and even a light switch. When vaude was firmly estab-
lished, many sketch artists carried their own scenery and furniture,
light effects, and even a stage carpenter and electrician.
The first record of a comedy sketch in variety shows was in 1873;
the team was John & Maggie Fielding. Then in 1877 Charles
Rogers & Mattie Vickers did a sketch. Later came Tom & Hattie
Nawn in "One Touch of Nature." One of the first dramatic
sketches (if not the first) was put on by Francesca Redding with
her former stock leading man, Hugh Stanton. The act was
called, "A Happy Pair," and that was in 1890. It was not until 1896
that dramatic acts really took hold in vaude, when J. Austin Fyncs
got Charles Dickson and Lillian Burkhart, Sidney Drew (the Barry-
mores7 uncle) and Gladys Rankin Drew and John Mason and
Marion Manola to enter the ranks of vaudeville.
Since then, I don't believe there has been a real great star of
the legit and musical-comedy stage who didn't play at least a week
or two in vaude. While some of them used vaude as a fill-in when
their shows would close for the season or flop, many of the top
stars found vaude very profitable and much steadier work than their
regular shows, and played routes season after season. Someone
once said, "When a legit loses his voice, he goes into vaudeville."
But that wasn't really so, because many of them were very success-
ful in the vaude field and would take a show every once in & while h>
sort of holster up their reps as legit stars for vaude. Most of them
would play dramatic sketches, as it upheld their dignity and they
didn't have to combat the terrific opposition of the many great
comedy acts. There were a number of "light comedy" stars who had
comedy sketches that became standard acts,
To mention all the dramatic sketches would read like the Who's
Who of the legitimate stage. 1 will try to recall just a few that im-
pressed me and Aggie— sketches like Margaret Anglin in 'The
Wager"; Edward Abclcs, "Self Defence**; Jean Aclair, "Maggie
Taylor, Waitress"; Julia Arthur, "Liberty Aflame"; Ilobnrt Bos-
worth, "Sea Wolf; Amelia Bingham, "Big Moments from Great:
Plays"; Sarah Berahartlt in a scries of sketches; Harry Bcresford,
THE SKETCH 51
"Old New York"; Valerie Bergere, "Judgment"; Richard Bennett,
"The Common Man"; George Beban, "Sign of the Rose." Ethel
Barrymore is supposed to have played only Barriers Twelve Pound
Look in vaude, but in 1913 she played the Palace with a skit called
"Miss Civilization." After that she used Barrie's sketch for all
her appearances in vaude, except once when she played "Drifted
Apart/7 first done in 1882.
Lionel Barrymore, McKee Rankin, and Doris Rankin did "The
White Slave." John Barrymore was a big hit in a comedy sketch,
"The Honeymoon." Others were Mrs. Leslie Carter in "Zaza";
George Nash, "Unexpected"; Nance O'Neill, "Second Ash Tray";
Florence Reed, "Jealousy"; Julius Steger, "Tenth Commandment"
(a great act, and a great artist, who demanded absolute quiet when
he was on stage; he was nicknamed "Shhhhh" Steger); Lou Telle-
gen, "Blind Youth"; Henry B. Walthall, "The Unknown"; Robert
Mantell and Genevieve Hamper, scene from Macbeth (Julia Arthur
was first to do a scene from Hamlet in vaude); Henri Du Vries,
"Case of Arson"; Allan Dinehart, "The Meanest Man in the
World" (George M, Cohan made a play out of this); Walter
Hampden, "Blackmail"; Frank Keenan, "Man to Man"; Mrs. Lil-
lian Langtry, "The Test"; Willard Mack and Marjorie Rarnbeau,
"Kick In" (this too was made into a show). Of course Nazirnova
in "War Brides," which she played during World War I, was one
of the most dramatic acts, because it dealt with a war at the time
a war was on, and it hit almost everybody in the audience. Comedy
acts feared to follow this one (she was much tougher to follow
than Bernhardt) ; the best comedy acts worked at least ten minutes
before the audience dried their eyes.
Among the great comedy sketches (and me and Aggie are just
trying to recall the belly-laugh sketches; others got plenty of laughs
too, but the belly-laughers really counted) , of course my list always
starts with Imhof, Conn & Corinne in "The Pest House" as one
of the most consistent belly-laugh getters. Running neck and neck
with Imhof was Willard Simms in "Flindcr's Flats," a guy trying
to do his own paper hanging. John B. Hymer in "Come On, Redl";
Ryan & Ritchfield, "Mag Haggerty's Reception"; Harry Watson,
Jr., "Tell Him What I Did to Philadelphia Jack O'Brien" or "Bat-
tling Dugan"; Leon Enrol, 'The Guest"; Bert Baker, "Prevarica-
tion"; Gordon Eldrid, "Won by a Leg"; Harry Green, "George
Washington Cohen"; Mr, and Mrs, Sidney Drew, "'Billy's Tomb-
Lefty s Letters 52
stones"; and Tommy Dugan and Babe Raymond, "The Apple
Tree" are about all I have room for.
Of course there were standard comedy sketch artists of vaude that
were sure-fire: Mason & Keeler, John C. Rice & Sally Cohen, Harry
"Zoop" Welsh, Macart & Bradford, Barnes & Crawford, Halligan &
Sykes, Dave Ferguson, Fred Ardath, Franklyn Ardell, Dolan &
Lenhar, Mr. and Mrs. Mark Murphy, Cressy & Dayne, Tom Nawn,
Claude and Fannie Usher, Emmett Devoy, Lulu McConell &
Grant Simpson, O'Brien Havel, Stevens & Hollister, Harry Holman
in "Adam Killjoy/' and Alexander Carr, who with "The End of the
World" (or "Toblitsky Says"), a kind of "Abie's Irish Rose/'
written by Aaron Hoffman, was one of the longest-playing sketches
in vaude. Mrs. Gracie Emmett played in "Mrs. Murphy's Second
Husband" for over twenty-five years, as did Ward & Curran in their
courtroom act.
The property man was, 1 believe, the first "stooge"! In the young
days of vaude it was too expensive to carry an actor for a bit
part, so trie property man was used. He would play such bits as a
letter carrier, maybe with just a line like, "Here's a letter for you,
madarne," or the part of a cop who would say, "Move on/' or,
"And sure it's a lovely day, Mrs. Callahan," or an iceman, messen-
ger boy, or even a dead body. For this he would receive 50 cents
a show. Some of the old-time property men became very good
actors and ad-libbers, sometimes forgetting their regular lines and
ad-libbing lines that were so funny that they were kept in. George
Williams, the property man at Keith's, Boston, was for many years
the best of the ad-libbers and it was because of his popularity that
many an act got over. When Mr. Albcc opened the beautiful Me-
morial Theatre in Boston, it was Williams who received the biggest
hand of all the celebrities that were introduced.
One trouble nearly all the comedy sketches had was a lack of
good curtain lines. There were acts that had the audience jjcrciuu-
ing with laughter all the way through, but fell flat at the finish and
just managed to get a couple of forced fast curtain calls. They were
always offering big money for a "wow" curtain line,, but; as I said,
very few ever got it. The dramatic acts had some drama lie line for
a finish, or a surprise twist, and didn't expect too much applause*
They would get their applause for good acting or for the act',s dra-
matic value. But bookcrs (who should have known bettor) judged
THESINGLEWOMAN 53
most acts by applause at the finish. That is why so many acts
"stole" bows or "milked" audiences.
Continuous vaudeville, with the noise made by people coming
in and going out and changing seats, didn't help the sketch any.
And when they started building the large vaude houses, the sketch
was doomed. The dramatic people, instead of going to vaude "be-
tween shows," now were going into pics. Many of the standard
comedy sketches went back to acts "in one" where they could be
heard; many of them went to radio. The writers went to radio and
pictures where the returns were twice and three times as much as
they ever made in vaudeville ... but there wasn't any fun mak-
ing it! SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
The Single Woman
Dear Joe,
A vaudeville show without the "single woman" was like a jet
plane that doesn't jet!
1 mean the gals who used to belt over any kind of a song-
comedy, ballad, or novelty; and I mean belt them over on their
own power without the aid of an engineer, P.A. system, micro-
phone, fancy arrangements, and all the do-clacis that ruined vaude
but started a bigger business. I'm not taking anything away from
the modern single gals who whisper into mikes or become stars
overnight by making a hit record (and become unknowns just as
fast). They certainly have their place in today's show biz and a
lot of them are real good and have talent and would have made
good in the old clays of vaude, But those gals of the two-a-day and
its kindergarten, the "family time/' were a different breed!
The Golden Dozen— -Maggie Cline, Bonnie Thornton, Lillian
Russell, Eva Tanguay, Nora Bayes, Vesta Victoria, Alice Lloyd,
Lefty's Letters 54
Irene Franklin, Florence Moore, Helen Morgan, Fanny Brice, and
Irene Bordoni— have all gone "upstairs/7 Sophie Tucker, "the Last
of the Red-Hot Mamas/' hasn't cooled off in nearly fifty years of
trouping and today is the Deaness of all the single gals. Belle Baker
is the runner-up among the still-working daughters of Mother
Vaudeville and still is a drawing card and a show-stopper! Kate
Smith is doing just as big and even bigger on radio and TV than
she did in vaude, and that's big, "brother! Mae West has 'em com-
ing up to see her anytime she feels like playing. Helen Kane "boop-
a-boops" her hit way in theaters and night clubs. Molly Picon is
still a great international star headlines Beatrice Lillie is jamming
'em in with her one-woman show, Fritzi Schcff takes a flyer now
and then on TV and radio to sing "Kiss Me Again/7 as docs
Blanche Ring to keep the "Rings on My Fingers and Bells on My
Toes" from rusting. Ethel Merman has added the scalp of pictures
to her talented belt, while Ethel Waters is going strong in all
mediums of show biz!
What a bunch of swell gals!
Many of the headlincrs have retired to become mothers and
grandmothers, some arc housewives, while others, like Gertrude
Vanderbilt, arc big business executives. May Usher is in the dress
business, Marguerite Young is in the real estate hi/, Gertrude I Toil-
man runs a dancing school, Grace Hayes had her own cafe, as did
Janet of France; both entertained their customers until the registers
overflowed and they retired. Blossom Scclcy makes a few personal
appearances with the picture about her life* Juliet takes out her
one-woman show when she feels stage-struck, Ailccn Stanley lias
a school where she teaches talented youngsters how to sock over
numbers like she used to do. Ethel Levy shuttles back and forth
between New York and London and still sings* a great song, Klsie
Jam's writes for pictures, Trixie Frigama still docs shows for Hie
GFs, Pert Kelton does plenty of work on TV and radio, and Nonna
Terris is ready to come back to us. And the ones who are very happy
in retirement or marriage are Rae Samuels, Nan Ilalpcrm, Louise
Dresser, Grace LaRue, Frances Arms, Bobby Folsonv Yvette flu-
gel, Ruth Etting, Ruby Norton, Lillian Shaw, and many many
more who are living on the dough they sent home every week when
they were the queens of the two-a-day! And many more, I am sorry
to say, are not playing the route any more, but their memories
grow greener with the passing years!
THE SINGLE WOMAN 55
She was a great gal, the single woman— she had to be! When
she made her entrance, it was the signal for bookers, agents, man-
agers, musicians, stagehands, actors, and "town guys77 to go on the
make. But you didn't have to worry about those gals; they had
"routines" that were better than chastity belts. Some of them car-
ried their mothers (or a facsimile) or "sisters" to dress 7em and
to act as alibis. You know, "I got to take my sister along. . . ."
Most of 'em were wise, smart-cracking gals who knew their stuff
on and off. Many of them would put on the helpless act, moaning,
"I don't know how to get my Pullman reservations/' "I don't know
how to check my baggage." (And the man dope would check it
for her and pay the excess, saying, "Oh, forget it, it wasn't much/')
They had a way of getting guys to do things for them. But it wasn't
all fun, because they had to put in hours of rehearsal on their
songs, hours with their dressmakers, hairdressers, writers, and, sez
Aggie, "especially with their piano players." (A wisecrack.)
The single woman, more than any other act, was just as good
as her material and dressmaker. No matter how pretty she was, she
couldn't overcome a bad routine of songs. So the smart ones were
on the lookout for writers of special material and especially comedy
songs. Laughs always paid off in vaude, as they do today in radio
and TV. Many a gal was made by a comedy song or a great ballad!
A pop song they could get from the publishers, who even paid
them for using it. But with competition it became tougher and
tougher to depend just on pop songs. Using them meant getting
to the theater first to grab the first check for rehearsal and so pro-
tect themselves from anybody else on the bill using the numbers
they depended on. Many a single woman would rehearse ten songs
(some of which she knew she wouldn't use) to keep some other
gal or act from using them. The gals who didn't have a piano player
to attend rehearsals had to appear themselves, sometimes at 7 A.M.
for an 11 o'clock rehearsal. Orchestra leaders were bribed, stage
managers overtippcd, doormen perjured themselves swearing who
appeared first, wires were pulled to keep other acts from using a
new published number that maybe the single woman depended on
to put over her act.
Publishers paid the headliners and features, because having a
vsong introduced by Nora Bayes, Belle Baker, Sophie Tucker, Rae
Samuels, and many more of that type entertainer meant a hit song.
There were no radios and TV and it was mostly through vaude
Lefty's Letters 56
that pop songs were made. Some of the publishers even furnished
clothes, special versions, orchestrations and arrangements, and even
scenery and a "plugger" in the box, besides paying the salary of the
piano player. The professional managers for the song publishers in
the big cities would entertain the gals, paying for their meals,
hotels, etc., so the gals were able to send most of their salary to
the receiving tellers of their favorite banks.
Many of the headliners paid outright for their special material,
but some paid 10 per cent of their salaries. It was worth it, because
it helped their acts and, most important, raised their salaries and
kept them "up there." Clothes were a very important part of the
single woman's act, except the ones that did character comedy like
Vesta Victoria, Lillian Shaw, etc. As soon as a gal appeared in what
they call a "stunning creation," all the other gals would hunt up
the same dressmaker, who overnight became a "modiste/' and who
would then enjoy a season or two of much moolah! It was the same
with writers; when one turned out a good hunk of material, all the
gals would try to get him to write for their acts. I believe Blanche
Merrill was what the professors call a "much-sought-after writer/'
because she wrote many great songs for Tanguay. Irene Franklin
and Elsie Janis wrote their own stuff.
In the 1900$ many of the so-called single women carried "insur-
ance" in the form of pickaninnies, or "picks/' as they were called.
After singing a few songs on their own, they would bring out the
picks (a group of Negro kids that really coulcl sing and dance)
for a "sock" finish. It really wasn't a single act, but nevertheless they
were so classified. There are a few come to mind that were tops, like
Grace LaRue with her Inky-Dinks, Phina & Her Picks (she changed
her name later to Josephine Gassman), and Ethel Whitcsidc and
Her Picks, Laura Comstock's picks were three white boys black-
ened up: Henry Bergman (Clark & Bergman), Charlie O'Connor
(later with Six American Dancers), and Nelson Davis. Then there
were Mayme Remington & Her Black Buster Brownie Ethiopian
Proclig<5s (shows you they weren't satisfied to bill 'cm as picks),
Josephine Saxton and Her Four Picks, Emma Kraus & Her Dutch
Picks (they sang in German and made up like Dutch kids), and
Louise Dresser & Her Picks (she was married then to Jack Nor-
worth) . Canta Day pulled a switch by billing her act, "Canta Day
and Her White Picks"! Carrie Scott, "the Bowery Girl/' was the
first to use picks; that was in the early '90$,
THESINGLEWOMAN 57
There was great competition among the single women. Tanguay
was the first to carry a "leader" instead of a piano player; she later
added a cornetist. Many had fine pianists, then some had two
pianists, some put in bands, others colored bands, jazz bands, spe-
cial drummers, etc. When one would have a beautiful lamp at the
piano, someone would top her by having three or four lamps; one
would have a Spanish shawl draped on the piano, so someone else
would outdo her by draping a mink, etc., etc., until the single
woman, who used to just come out in front of a street drop and
sing, practically became a "production." The terrific competition
and jealousies paid off at the box office!
The headline single women were a temperamental lot. They
would walk off a show because of a bad dressing rooni7 billing, or
spot on the program. Fritzi Scheff once walked out of the Palace
and Mr. Albee had a sign put in the lobby saying that because she
walked out she would never play the Palace again. She was back
in a few weeks. The big moguls forgave anybody who could bring
money to the till, but they could stay mad for a long time if it
was just another act. Nora Bayes "walked" many a time, as did
Tanguay (who was the most temperamental of them all). Fanny
Brice was the least temperamental.
Nora Bayes was the ''class" of all the single women— a truly
great artist who did everything with class gestures. When she was
married to Jack Norworth, they would travel in a private car (no
actors did that before, and I can't remember anybody that did it
since). She would sweep into a hotel, taking half a floor for her
company. She would pay the expenses of her piano player and
wife, her two adopted children and governess, her maid, and maybe
of a few friends that were just traveling along. She allowed no in-
terviews (and got more publicity that way, as the papers thought
they were putting something over on her) . She would always work
with a fine lace handkerchief in one hand, or a fan. She was in the
first Ziegfeld Follies, She was also the first to sing George M.
Cohan's immortal song, "Over There"; Cohan came backstage at
the Thirty-ninth Street Theatre, where she was giving her own
show with a few acts, and told her he had just written a song and
would she sing it, which she did with Irving Fisher a few nights
later. Her first husband was an undertaker by the name of Cross-
ing, Jack Norworth was next, then came Harry Clark, Arthur Gor-
doni, and Ben Friedland. She was one of the few gals who had a
Lefty's Letters 58
theater named after her, the Nora Bayes Roof atop the Forty-fourth
Street Theatre. She died at the age of fifty; her last professional
appearance was at the Fox Academy of Music for three days, and
the last thing she did was to sing for the Doyer's Mission on March
19, 1928. She was put in a receiving vault in Woodlawn and wasn't
buried until eighteen years later (1946, when her fifth husband
died) . Nora Bayes was not only a great artist but a great big-hearted
gal.
Eva Tanguay, who to me and Aggie represented the true spirit
of vaudeville, was everything a vaude headliner should be, a gal
who came up the hard way, temperamental, good newspaper copy,
always doing something to pump blood into the box office. Here
are some of the billings of Tanguay, which I believe give you the
story of the gal: 'The Girl Who Made Vaudeville Famous/7
"Cyclonic Eva Tanguay/7 "Mother Eve's Merriest Daughter/7 "The
Genius of Mirth and Song/' "America's Champion Comedienne/'
"Our Own Eva/' "America's Idol/' "The Girl the Whole World
Loves/' "Vaudeville's Greatest Drawing Card/' "The One Best
Bet/7 "The Evangelist of Joy," etc., etc.
Eva Tanguay played first in Chamberlain's "My Lady Co.7' at
Hammerstein's, when they played shows. She started in the chorus,
then sang two numbers. The girls in the chorus crabbed her num-
bers by throwing buns, talking, etc. One night she stopped in the
middle of a number and started a terrific fight with the girls, pull-
ing hair, etc. Her name got in the papers the next day and she
saw that it stayed there until her death. Starting with $25 a week
and going to $3,500, she replaced Norworth & Bayes in the Zieg-
feld Follies in 1909 and had her name as big as the show, the only
one who ever had that kind of billing in the Folliesl The next year
P. G. Williams had a contest offering a prize for breaking the
records at the Colonial; Tanguay, Hoffman, Suratt, and Nat: Good-
win were the competitors- Tanguay won!
She once went on Amateur Night for her friend foe Schcuck
(who, by the way, gave her a weekly check when things were tough
with her) at Locw's National Theater in the Bronx; she was billed
as Lillian Doom» and was a terrific hit! She fought with stagehands,
musicians, bookers, managers, and even acts, but when she liked
you she was a great galr and she packed yem in for years. Me and
Aggie won't say she had a great talent, but she did have a beautiful
form and a terrific personality that got her the kincl of money that
THE SINGLE WOMAN 59
meant Fort Knox! You could write a big fat book about Eva, and
it was too bad she had to end her days on charity, but she only got
back a small part of what she gave out. She was the greatest adver-
tiser of any vaude act in America . . . but besides advertising you
must have something to deliver. Tanguay had it!
Tanguay and Sophie Tucker spent more money on costumes and
material than any other single women in show biz. Sophie would
come back season after season with new ideas, material, scenery,
and clothes. For many years she had (and still has) on her payroll
as special-material writer the very talented Jack Yellen, who with
Lew Pollack wrote her famous "Yiddisher Mama." Ted Shapiro
has been her accompanist for nearly thirty years, and in all those
years Ted has never called Sophie anything but Miss Tucker (on
or off stage) . I am not going to tell you much about Sophie, be-
cause she wrote a book about herself, so why should I crab sales,
but I do want to say that she is a gal whom everybody in show biz
is proud of, not only because she brought great talent to vaude—
but because she also brought a great heart!
To write biogs of all the great single gals in vaude would take
a book by itself, so I will mention just a few of the greats and see
if you can put them together in your jigsaw memories of vaudeville.
Not in the order of their importance, because they were all impor-
tant. I have already mentioned many of them, so will kinda add to
the list as they come back to memory: Mabel McCane, Mabel
Hite, Lottie Gilson, Marion Harris, Frances White, Gracie Fields,
Clarice Vance, Edna Aug, Marie Cahill, Fay Ternpleton, Marie
Dressier, Lilly Lena.
There were a lot of single women that were headliners but not
box-office, gals that had terrific talent, big billing as attractions and
features, and were terribly important to vaude, gals like Sadie Burt,
Gertrude Barnes, Amy Butler, Olive Briscoe, Edith Clifford, Anna
Chandler, Ruth Roye, Reinc Davis, Grace DeMarr, Aunt Jemima,
Maude Lambert, Ann Laughlin, Ray Cox, Marie Nordstrom, Ma-
rie Russell, Lucy Wcston, Marguerite Young, Elizabeth Murray,
Daisy Harcourt, Bessie Wynn, Daphne Pollard, Adelc Rowland,
Miss Patricola, Lydia Barry, Truly Shattuck, Frances Arms, Lillian
Fitzgerald, Edna Lecclom, Bobby Folsom, Ann Grcenway, Violet
Carlson, Sylvia Clark, Grace Hazard, Winnie Lightner, and a raft
of others.
Then there were the special attractions and middle and bottom
Lefty's Letters 60
attractions like Dixie Hamilton, May Usher, Emily Darrell, Ethel
Davis, Grace Hayes, Frankie Heath, Dolly Kay, Annie Kent, Elida
Morris, Sally Fields, Grace Cameron, Ray Dooley, Josie Heather,
Irene Ricardo, Clara Morton, Flo Lewis, Marie Stoddard, Bessie
Browning, Dorothy Brenner, and more and more and more.
Just a lot of names, you say? But when you think of them you
have golden memories of great songs like, "I Don't Care/' "Red
Head/' "Who You Gettin At, Eh?77 "Waiting at the Church,"
"Eli, Eli," "Some of These Days," "Military Wedding/7 "I'm an
Indian/7 "Giddap Napoleon/7 "Toodle-oo," "My Little Bag; of
Tricks/' "Push, Push, Push/7 "Down on the Erie/' "Shine On,
Harvest Moon/' "St. Louis Blues," "Mississippi/7 "Strange Faces/'
"The Biggest Aspidistra in the World/' "Rings on My Finders/'
"When the Moon Comes over the Mountain/7 "Evening Star/'
"Forty-five Minutes from Broadway/' "Kiss Me Good-Bye, Flo/'
"Bill," "My Man/7 "By Jingo/7 "Robert E. Lee"; try and place 'cm
with the artists to whom they belong.
All these songs and the ladies who sang them contributed a lot-
to the success of vaudeville, and there were many more who haven't
been mentioned because of space, but it was swell knowing, seeing,
and hearing you gals, and me and Aggie salute your standard-
bearer, the hottest mama of 7em all, who is still carrying on the
great tradition of the vaudeville single woman—- Sophie Tucker]
SEZ
Your pdf
LEFTY
Vaudeville Music
Dear Joe,
From the first clays of the honky-tonks to the time wlicn the last
"exit march'7 was heard at the Palace, music played a very impor-
tant part in vaudeville!
VAUDEVILLE MUSIC 61
A show without music is like the sound going dead on your TV
set! You just couldn't have a guy play your music on a comb cov-
ered with tissue paper. For many years the variety shows had the
old "three-piece orchestra/' piano, stool, and cover! There were
many great ivory-beaters, most of them nonreaders but great fakers.
I would say about 80 per cent of all the old-time piano players
could fake anything you could sing, hum, or whistle!
I can give you a good picture of the early variety-house orches-
tras by telling you about Tony Pastor's famous pit boys, Mike
Bernard, Burt Green, Tom Kelly, Ben Harney, and William Erode:
they all played there at one time or another. Torn Kelly and Wil-
liam Erode played the supper shows, while the others played the
two-a-day acts.
You never heard such a reception as Mike Bernard got when he
walked down the aisle daily at 2:15 and at 8:15 P.M. Ragtime was
just starting and Mike was tops. He won a flock of medals at Tam-
many Flail, where they would hold yearly ragtime piano-playing
contests. Years later many a jazz combo copied Mike's stuff. He
manipulated the ivories so that the average pop song sounded like
grand opera. He kept interest in the show from the minute he
seated himself at the pit piano to the final exit march. He did what
the professors would call "extemporizing," but what me and Aggie
would call "ad-libbing on the keys." Mike would take an ordinary
melody and would stick in a lot of musical stuff that the professors
would say "brought forth a technique and understanding of ex-
pression that were limitless." (I copied that part,)
Some of the acts when they first opened at Pastor's got kinda
sore at Mike (ancl the others) for putting in variations on their
piano-copy score. Many of 'cm beefed to Tony Pastor that Mike
was crabbing their act by playing so good that the audience was
looking at ancl listening to Mike instead of their act. But me ancl
Aggie will bet he saved more acts than he killed by his ad-libbing
from the act's lead sheets. After the Monday matinee "beef," the
acts realized Mike was helping them, and by the middle of the
week they were ad-libbing with Mike, and getting over, because
the audience was for Mike against anybody!
When Mike left Pastor's, Burt Green took his place and became
a great favorite, which proved what a great guy he must have been
to be able to follow the piano-playing idol of Fourteenth Street!
Like Mike, he played the show alone as few orchestras could, ancl
Lefty's Letters B2
he ad-libbed operatic variations on the pop themes of that period.
He had an original trick of playing the overture and changing the
key and tempo while the house was singing and whistling what
he originally started. Fie used this comedy bit when he was later
headlined with his wife, Irene Franklin, for many years in vaude.
It was always a hit!
Ben Harney was the pioneer of ragtime music. Modern jazz and
swing stemmed from the same syncopation. His playing led to^the
ragtime craze and the cakewalk craze using the same tempo. They
say that Charles Trevanthan, who wrote "Bully Boy7' for May
Irwin, was the originator. But Ben learned it when he was in Louis-
ville, mastered the syncopated rhythm, and came to Pastor's about
1895. He later went into vaude and did a swell act and certainly
popularized ragtime playing.
Tom Kelly and Bill Erode came after Burt Green and were fine
ivory-ticklers and knew a lot of trick stuff with the eighty-eight
notes, the same as Mike and Burt, but never got their rep. Anyway,
these guys will give you an idea of the early variety pit music. They
had local Mike Bernards (in popularity, not in talent") all over the
country. There were even two guys on the same street that were
pretty well known to the customers of Keith's Union Square Thea-
tre, Emil Katzenstein and Nobel McDonald, and Harrington at
Henderson's Coney Island, and Jack Connelly at Keith's, Boston,
were favorites, too. Then there was Rocsncr in San Francisco's
Orpheum; they had a full orchestra, but the olcl man would play
on a small organ during intermission, and to make it harder he
would place a silk scarf over the keyboard and play a tune (a gim-
mick). He was a swell musician and a good showman. But I saw
many a piano player in a joint play in the dark when the cops were
raiding it. (Don't say nothing to Aggie.)
The orchestras in vaude were built up gradually* First a drummer
was added. Then some guy who liked music added a catgut scraper
(violinist); we called them "Yeh, ych men" because they usually
led the orchestras and while playing the fiddle they had to beat
out time for the other guys, which they did with their heads, mak-
ing it look like they were saying "yes" all the time. Little by little
they added cornet, trombone, and when they got real swell they
added the "one-in-a-bar" or "live-forever" guy (which is the nice
bass player) . We never did meet an angry bass playerl The drum-
mer was a very important guy for acts. He was made the butt of
VAUDEVILLE MUSIC 63
all the jokes; the single woman would make love to him, stroke
his bald head, and leave lipstick on it after kissing him. He would
have to have a lot of accessories like cowbells, ratchets, horns, etc.,
to make noises with when someone would take a fall. When he
would shake the cowbell, the comic would usually say "Milk it."
(What a wow!)
It was William Morris, Sr., when he was booking the old Music
Hall in Boston in opposition to Keith, who made the manager put
in a small orchestra instead of just a piano player. Keith didn't
like it, but had to follow suit and do likewise at his house. It was
Martin Beck (who really was a music lover) that put in fifteen-
piece orchestras on the Orpheum Circuit. They played classical
overtures and Mr. Beck gave orders that they must play the last
person out of the theater with the exit march. This was really a
big idea of Beck's, because nearly all musicians would stop playing
a few minutes after the stereopticon slide, picturing a little child
dressed in a nightgown with a candle in her hand saying "Good
Night/' was thrown on the curtain. It left a void and was a letdown
for the audience walking out of a silent theater. With the orchestra
"playing 'em out/' the customers carried out the joy of the show
with them and maybe even hummed a hit tune heard during the
performance.
Leaders and men in the pit of vaude orchestras were specialized
musicians, because it's a lot different playing for vaudeville acts
(that had dozens of cues, bits of business, etc.) than playing for
musical comedy, opera, or symphony. To mention all the fine lead-
ers is impossible, but there were a few greats at the New York
theaters that you just have to give a nod to, like Jules Lensberg
at the Colonial, George May at Hammerstein's, Louis Rheinhart
at the Orpheum, Brooklyn, Benny Roberts at the Alhambra, Andy
Byrnes at the Bushwick, J. Leibman at the American Roof, Paul
Schincllcr, the first leader at the Palace, followed by Lou Foreman,
Dan Russo, and Charlie Dabb, and Joe Jordan and Ruby Swerling
at Locw's State. They were very important in helping to put over
a show. A good leader could cut down rehearsal time, and could
put over an act or louse 'em up. Many of them did both!
What I want to tell you about are the musical acts that played
on "the shelf/' One of the earliest of all novelty musical acts was
way back in 1876 when a German magician by the name of Heir
Schlain was the first person to play musical glasses in America. He
Lefty's Letters 6*
billed himself a "cocophonist" (which is certainly high-class billing
for a guy that plays glasses). There were hundreds that did this
type musical act for many years (saw a couple on TV who did it
better than we've ever heard) .
Early variety performers learned how to plunk a banjo for self-
protection from some of the piano players; they could at least give
them the tempo and an idea of the tunes of their songs and dance
numbers. (By the way, in 1874 they called a banjo a banjar.) There
were more banjo players among the musical acts in the early days
than there were uke players when that musical plague hit vauclc
many years later. Some of the real good banjoists were Bill Bailey,
the Burt Earl Trio, Claudius & Scarlet (who accompanied them-
selves while old-time illustrated songs were shown on the screen—-
they did this in all the big-time houses and in the Follies— it was
so old that it was new again), E. M. Hall (who would tell about
the banjo's origin, etc.), Brent Hayes, Kimball & Donovan, Lee &
Cowan, Polk & Collins, Perry & Bolger, Blackface Edclie Ross (he
called it an African harp), and the Howard Bros, (with their flying
banjos they were real great).
Variety bills had musical acts (mostly blackface) that did some
singing and dancing and even acrobatics with their music. And
when they became better musicians (they had lots of chances to
practice while doing ten to fifteen shows a day), they naturally
learned how to play many more instruments and those that couldn't
do singing, dancing, or comedy started to do straight musical acts
in white face and passed themselves off as musicians, Johnny
Thompson, called "the Lively Moke" (blackface) was one of the
first musical mokes (which meant he played many kinds of instru-
ments).
The first straight musical acts played musical glasses, bells, banjo,
cornet, violin, piano, Irish bagpipe, sweet potato, harmonica, xylo-
phone, and harp. The ones who couldn't play well enough did
novelty acts, which meant they went in for "gimmicks/' playing
musical rattles, goblctphoncs, and bells (Swiss, hand, and sleigh).
Musical clowns played odd instruments (much like the guys years
later who played balloons, tires, saws, ancl washboards) . There were
trick violinists, concertina players, drummers, one-armed cornctists,
whistlers, bones and tambourine soloists, musical bottles, etc. Most
of the guys who played the gimmick instruments couldn't read a
VAUDEVILLE MUSIC 65
note if it was endorsed by B. F. Keith! A few were good musicians,
but figured a novelty would get more dough.
Til never forget the time me and Aggie worked on a bill with a
guy who did a musical act. He dressed as a waiter and had a table
on stage all dressed up like a banquet table (a cheap banquet),
with bowls of rubber oranges and apples, dishes, silverware, and
napkins. He would come on after a musical introduction by the
professor in the pit and start squeezing tunes out of the oranges
and apples, and blowing the knives, forks, and spoons, which
sounded like whistles— simple tunes like 'Turkey in the Straw"
and some German folk tunes. For the finish of his act (which was
set in what was supposed to be a dining room), he would come to
center stage and say to the audience, in a thick German accent,
"Vile vaitin' for the beoples to come, I vill vater my roses/' That
was the cue for the lights to dim down, and the professor would
play an introduction to "The Last Rose of Summer" (a very popu-
lar ditty those days) . The guy would pick up a small sprinkling can
and as it made contact with a rose, the rose would light up and
he would play the song via bells, and the funny part of it was that
it was a great finish for his act!
Me and Aggie were young those days and kinda full of fun, so
we got all the acts on the bill (three) together and we switched his
oranges and apples and knives and forks and even misplaced a few
of the roses for good measure. Well sir, you have never seen such
a look of surprise on a guy's face as when he squeezed the first
orange. He looked as surprised as a guy being caught by a house dick.
When he squeezed a few more and it was "nodding," he figured
he'd switch to his rose finish and get out of it. When he made the
first contact, he was exactly eighty-eight notes off key. He said,
"Gottdammit," then turned to the audience and said, "Sense,
blcasc," and walked off.
It really was a dirty trick on our part, but we justified ourselves
when we found out that the guy had learned his act via numbers.
Each piece of fruit, knife, and fork, and rose were numbered, so
we figured he was a lousy musician and maybe he would learn a
lesson and also some music. Anyway, we did save him from being
canceled for saying "Gottdammit"— said in a little town in Maine
where they never heard that word except at home! There were
many like this guy in early variety, but out of these beginnings
Lefty's Letters ^
came some really great musical acts that wouldn't be ashamed to
hit the Carnegie Hall acoustics!
Fd like to tell you about some of the novelty musical acts in
vaude. You may recall many of them. There was Fields & Hanson,
one of the oldest comedy musical acts (there was one Fields, but
dozens of Hansons, as he would get a new partner every few weeks).
One of them would play the "Anvil Chorus" on a cornet while the
other would beat him on the fanny with a slapstick in time to the
music, and the player would pay no attention to him. At the finish
of the selection he would keel over exhausted. It was a big laugh
(then). Snyder & Buckley, another couple of old-timers, did funny
bits between playing their instruments. There was a billy goat head
on the wall with a sign on it, "Bock Beer/' The straight man would
go over after finishing a number, pull the horns, and get a glass
of beer. The comic would follow him, pull the horns, and get milk!
This was carried on all through the act to a real big laugh.
Adams & White played on farm implements, Josh Aclelman &
Co. played on tiny instruments, Beltrah & Bcltrah, "The Musical
Dairy/' milked a prop cow and made music. Carmcnclli & Lucille
did "Music and Fun in a Butcher Shop" (you can imagine that
one). Fitch Cooper was the originator of the musical saw (lots of
acts claimed it). Mile. Carie was a lady champ sleigh-bells player.
Ferry Corway, a talented musical clown, was one of the best prop-
makers in the country. George Dixon (not the humorous Wash-
ington correspondent) played xylophone on a skeleton. (At thai;
the modern George plays xylophone on politicians.) Luigi Del 'Oro
played two instruments at one time. This was clone by many others
years later. Solly Violinsky was the first I ever saw to piny violin
ancl piano at the same time. Dave Apollou played a mandolin and
piano (great), The Eastcrbrooks back in 1908 (long before the
New York World's Fair buses had musical horns) had the first
auto horn that played a melody. Phil Glissando, on a battleship,
playccl the guns, life preservers, etc. Zcllaucl Hunt, a deaf tmitc,
played a great piano. Tommy Hayes played a bone solo, glasses,
ancl clog biscuits. He would say, while picking up a biscuit, "I
wonder arc these dog biscuits good enough for my dog Prince/*
and proceed to "taste 'cm/' and they would turn out to be whistles,
on which he would play a tune. Billy "Musical" Huchn was an
expert on the "pcpperina" (which was an ocarina or sweet potato);
he also played a dozen other instruments, whistled, and danced
VAUDEVILLE MUSIC 67
(great). Lazar & Lazar played the "hypnotic glasses" (regular glass
playing) and had a mechanical orchestra on the back drop.
Staley & Birbeck were one of the great novelty acts and played
all over the world. Their act opened on a scene in a blacksmith
shop; they were all dressed as blacksmiths and played the "Anvil
Chorus/' hitting horseshoes on large anvils, which sent out sparks
of electricity and made a beautiful effect. Then in exactly three
seconds the scene changed to a nice parlor set and all the members
of the cast were in evening clothes and played many more instru-
ments. Wilbur Swetman played two clarinets at one time. The
Tom-Jack Trio threw snowballs at tambourines in frames, which
made good music. They also fenced and made music by striking
shields with swords. Toy & Toy played kid toys that were hanging
on a Christmas tree. Tipple & Kilmet played on wheelbarrows, the
Transfield Sisters got fine music out df playing on all kinds of
bottles, and Will Van Allen played on knives and forks while
seated at a table eating. Willard's Temple of Music had a large
sawmill, and was the biggest musical act ever produced in vaude-
ville!
There were many musical acts with fine music and scenery. Most
of them were produced by Jesse Lasky and B. A. Rolfe. Mr. Lasky,
who is one of the great motion-picture producers, started in vaude
years ago as a musical act with his sister; he played a cornet
B, A. Rolfc was one of the great cornetists of his day and had his
own bands for many years and was a pioneer on the radio. Both
men produced such fine musical acts as Lasky & Rolfe's Quintette,
Ye Colonial Septette, Military Octette, fourteen Black Hussars (a
swell Negro act), Pianopliiends, Clownland, the Rolplionians, and
many more. There were other big musical acts, like American
Trumpeters, the Boston Fadettes, with Caroline Nichols as di-
rector (they had a bit where the all-girl group got mad and walked
out and Caroline replaced them, playing ten different instruments),
and the Banjoficnds. The Bell Family (Mexicans) were really one
of the great musical acts; they played xylophone, mandolins, and
finished with mixed bells, sleigh, hand, and pipe. There were of
course the Six Brown Bros, (nearly all related) with their saxo-
phones, one of the best acts of its kind, Six Musical Cuttys (a great
family musical organization), Four Emperors of Music, the Expo-
sition Four, the Old Soldier Fiddlers (sons of Dixie and sons in
blue), sure-fire applause getters (after about twenty minutes of bad
Lefty's Letters 68
fiddlin' on both sides of the Mason-Dixon line, they shook hands
and all was forgiven), Gordon Highlanders, Musical Hodges, Six
Kirksmith Sisters, Specht's Lady Serenades, Wyatt's Scotch Lads
& Lassies, and many more.
Among the great comedy musical acts were Bickle & Watson
(originally the famous Bickle, Watson & Wrothe), Binns7 Binns &
Binns (they all made up like King Edward), Eckhoff & Gordon,
Farrell & Taylor (he would light his cigar with a gas jet from his
vest pocket), Goldsmith & Hoppe (a very funny act). Oscar Lor-
raine and his fiddle was another great comedy act. Grant Gardner
did a blackface monologue and besides playing a cornet was the
best large hand-bell player in the world. Turelly, a one-man band,
also did paper tearing. Dave Harris was one of the most versatile of
the musical acts; he not only could play almost any kind of an in-
strument, sing very well, but also was a fine song writer. Volant
played a swinging piano, and Onaip (piano spelled backwards— and
you thought Serutan originated it?) played a piano that went around
like a wheel (very fast); the audience couldn't tell how it was clone
as there were no wires, etc. Wood & Shepherd were real old-timers
and were the funniest of all the old comedy blackface musical acts!
We had fine pianists in vaude, like Alaphoncse, Zalaya, Eric
Zardo, Vilmos Westony (a talented Hungarian), Leon Varvara (a
talented American), Dave Schooler (he was great even as a kid),
and Arthur Stone, a blind artist and real good, Andre Rcnaud
played two pianos at the same time. There were Erno Rapcc,
Daisy Nellis, Alexander MacFayden, Tina Lerner, Jack Little (who
was real great), Kharum (he said he was Persian), Ismccl (he said
he was Turkish), and Hershel Hcndlcr, who played for Texas
Guinan when she first started and who became a great entertainer
in his own right. Now me and Aggie knew the score and didn't let
"billing" throw us, but many of the long-hairs that we thought were
phonies turned out real important.
When I recall those Turkish and Persian guys, I must tell you
about the time we played at the Colonial, New York, There was
an Indian, not with feathers or war paint— but just an Indian front
over there someplace. Anyway, he was billed like a circus and at
rehearsal he was wrapped in cotton like a large sore finger and had
an interpreter with him who told the orchestra leader what he
wanted, etc. J looked at his act and thought the guy was real great,
*>o when lie came off I went to his dressing room to tell him* (You
VAUDEVILLE MUSIC
know, actors would rather get a compliment from their brother
and sister performers, even if they know it's insincere, than from
the public). Well, the interpreter makes a big federal case out of it,
tells the guy what I said, he bows to me, shakes hands, but no
speaka. Anyway, I goes out the stage door and there's a nice little
lady out there who looks at me and sez, with a delightful dialect,
"You're han hector?" and I sez, "Yes." Then she sez, "You voiking
here?" I again yessed her. "Do you know Hagen Ben Alid?" she
sez. (I'm faking the name, so Aggie don't get her sunburst taken
away from her.) I again gave her a pleasant yes. "Den pleese tell
him dot his sister Sara from the Bronx is vaiting for him." After
that I even suspected Mahatma Gandhi!
It wasn't all hokey-pokey in musical vaude; we had top-notch
artists on any kind of an instrument you can name except the
cymbals and triangle.
We had one of the greatest cornetists in the world, Jules Levi.
There were some fine violinists, like Otto Gygi (who was the hit
of the Palace opening bill), Manuel Quiroga, Fred Fradkin, Susan
Tompkins, Rinaldo, Nonette, Isabella Patricola, the Hegedus Sis-
ters, Jules Saranoff, Countess Le Leonardi, Ross Roma, and don't
laugh when I mention Ben Bernie and Jack Benny; those guys could
play when they had to, but comedy paid off much better than fid-
dlnY unless you were a Heifetz, which those two guys certainly
weren't!
There were some real good xylophone players like the Four
Avalos, Friscoe (Lou China), El Celeve, the Johnsons, El Cota,
the Five Musical Spillers (Negroes and great), Lcbonati (comedy
but real good musician), and of course to me the funniest of rem
all, the Great Lamberti, whose special bit was that while he was
playing a strip teaser appeared behind him (unbeknownst to him,
of course) and when the audience applauded he thought it was
for him (real funny).
Among the fine accordionists was Frosini (one of the first),
Dicro (Mae West's ex-hubby), his brother Pictro (they both sold
thousands of records ), Pcppino, Marconi Bros., Countess Nardini^
Charlie Klass, Santucci, Cervo, and my old pal Phil Baker, the
only guy with a left-handed keyboard!
In the high-class field like cellists there were Van Biene (one of
the best), Hans Kronold, Elsa Ruegger, Helen Scholcler, Alfred
Wallenstein, and David Sapperstein. Now don't get me wrong,
Lefty's Letters 70
Joe, me and Aggie don't know if these guys were good or bad, we
didn't go in for that kinda music, neither did most of the audience,
"because most of us didn't know what this high-brow soft music
was about. But they brought in a lot of new customers that would
yell "Bravo"— we didn't like 'em because that type guy doesn't go
for belly laughs. But we made many a tour with these long-hairs
over the Orpheum Circuit (Beck was a pushover for this kind of
talent), where sometimes they were a terrific hit and sometimes
they flopped good, but at the end of the tour even we liked their
music and realized that it was harder to learn than a time step!
There were so many musical acts that they started fighting
among themselves about originality for publicity purposes. There
were two acts, the Four Musical Gates and Gray & Graham, who
spent a lot of dough advertising in the trade papers that they had
the largest saxophone in the world and proved it with pictures.
Then another act would answer them and say that they not only
had the largest saxophone in the world, but they also played HI
(The trade papers reaped a harvest with them.) Then via the
Actor's Forum, which was a column run by Variety where the actors
wrote in their beefs, one act claimed they were the first to use a
piano bench instead of the regulation stool. They were always argu-
ing via the Forum who was the originator of this or that. It made a
lot of fun, because other actors would steam 'cm up to keep the
argument going.
The Hawaiian Trio (Toots Papka) were the first to bring the
steel guitar around, and they were a sensation. Everybody on the
bill and in the pit tried to find out how the guy got that wonderful
tone on a guitar, but he would never tell, until one night an actor
got the guy plenty drunkcc and out came the secret. lie showed
him the small piece of steel he held in his hand when playing,
That's all, brother! In a few months vauclc was lousy with lousy
steel-guitar players!
Brass bands wore the first real big music in mule—bands like
John S. Eagan's and Arthur Pryor's. Maurice Lcvi and His In-
visible Band played in front of a black drop with side lights (black-
magic stuff), and you could hear 'cm but not see 'cm unHl the
finish; anyway, it was mostly Levi playing his wonderful cornet
solos. Creatorc & Band of fifty went from vaude to the Hippodrome
(formerly National) in Boston with pics and free parking space for
customers (that was in 1915 and the first record of a theater giving
VAUDEVILLE MUSIC
parking space) . In 1916 the Vaterland Band from the interned ship
of that name played at Loew's, The Germans in the audience
cheered! (We weren't in the war yet.) It was three years later when
Lieut. Jimmy Europe's Band, which made history during the war,
toured all over the country and packed 'em in. He established jazz
on Broadway. He was the leader of the 369^1 Infantry Band. (He
was fatally stabbed in the neck by a member of the band, Herbert
Wright.)
And of course the tops in bands was John Philip Sousa. Here is
an interesting item about Sousa that you may not know. He had
a rug-covered podium, and when he first used it it was two feet
high, but as the years passed, its height was cut down to make it
easier for him to mount it. It was only five inches high when it was
presented to the University of Illinois Library, at Champaign,
Illinois. He also left the University forty-five trunks of music, and
three thousand band arrangements, many in manuscript form.
Bert Kelly & His Jazz Band started a new craze that was to last
a long time. Kelly is without a doubt the originator of that brand
of entertainment. There were thousands that followed him. Jazz
became so bad that the Pittsburgh Musicians demanded death to
jazz musicians and jazz music. There were amateur jazz-band con-
tests held at Proctor's Fifth Avenue Theatre. There were about
two dozen acts in vaude using their own bands for accompaniment
instead of just having a piano player. It gave prestige to the act and
also got headline billing for some gals that never passed the deuce
spot on a bill before or since!
Henry Santrey & His Band came into the Palace and started a
new trend in band acts. He was the first to put in specialties (Harry
& Ann Seymour) between the orchestra numbers. You just shudder
when you think what he started! Vincent Lopez came along and
started the fine scenery and novelty electrical effects with his music.
Ben Bcrnie started the comedy idea.
Then along came Paul Whiteman and "became tops. He received
$7,500 at the Hippodrome, which was the highest salary ever paid
up to then in vaudc; remember, that was in 1925, He turned down
a million-buck guarantee for three years tp play pic houses. He
said it would kill his concert tours and maybe somebody else would
step in. He was getting $9,000 a week in pic houses, He was
featured in ads at the Hippodrome with a cartoon of his face (this
cartoon became famous and he is still using it) . It was the first
Lefty's Letters 72
time a solo featuring for a single attraction was done at the Keith-
Albee stand. There was even a list of his numbers in the ad. White-
man made a great recording of 'Three O'Clock in the Morning"
which sold three million copies and he only got $75 for recording
it. Why? Because he didn't get royalties. His "Wonderful One"
recording got Mickey Neiland about eighteen grand and Paul noth-
ing (same biz deal) . Paul has learned a hell of a lot since then.
There were a number of really great orchestras (or bands, as we
called them) that did swell in big-time vaude. Check your memory
for these: A & P Gypsies (a string orchestra), Ben Bernie's bunch
(with Oscar Levant at the piano), Don Bestor, Jimmy Carr, Joe
Fejcr & His Hungarian Orchestra, Eddie Elkins, Mai Hallctt,
Isham Jones, Ted Lewis, Abe Lyman, Art Landry, Harry Stodclard,
Will Vodery, J. Rosamond Johnson, Ted Weems, Aaronson's Com-
manders, Dixieland Jazz Band, House of David, Kay Kyser, Guy
Lombard o, George Olsen, Original Memphis Five, Will Osborn,
Don Vorhees, and so many many more that made beautiful music.
Otto Kahn's son Roger was first billed as Roger Wolfe's Orchestra,
later billed under his full name, Roger Wolfe Kahn. He made his
debut at the Knickerbocker Hotel. Paul Spcclit was the first mod-
ern dance band to make an appearance in vaude circuit as an
attraction by itself. He was also the first to advertise catch phrases
like "Rhythmic Symphonic Syncopation"— also first to send a
modern dance orchestra (the Criterions) to Europe. Bob Bennett's
Frisco Syncopators was the first singing band and first to use air-
planes for transportation from London to Paris,
The guy who started all the dance bands, Art Ilickman, only
played a few vaude dates. He was the first to hit the East with
modern dance music in jazz tempo, and the first to do the pull-out
whistle. (Later he became VP of the St. Francis Hotel in Frisco.)
FrccI Waring's Pcnnsylvanians appeared for the first time in New
York at the Strand about 1924. They practically started the auto*
graph craze, when full-socked dames waited at the stage door for
the collegians. Here is one of the real great band organizations in
the country. They proved it by becoming tops in TV, which proves
my old man's saying, "Quality is always in style/'
There were over sixty well-known bands in vauclc. That was
1929, the same year that the Marlboro, Massachusetts, public
schools had fifty liarmonica orchestras and there were twenty mil-
lion harmonicas soldr and the uke was making a terrific comeback
VAUDEVILLE MUSIC 73
(like Arthur Godfrey made it come back now, after almost a quarter
of a century) . Bob Williams, a Negro, was the pioneer of the uke
players; he taught the great Ukulele Ike. Borrah Minevitch with
thirty- two kids playing harmonicas asked $3,000 to play pic houses.
(He got that much and more later with just half a dozen kids.)
He had the first professionally organized harmonica troupe. He
got the kids through contests in theaters he played. Larry Adler
without a doubt is the greatest of all harmonica artists!
Telling you about the regular bands, I almost forgot to tell you
about the real comedy bands. (There has never been a "craze" in
vaude that wasn't cashed in on by the comedians.) Frank & Milt
Britton were one of the first and were the forerunners of Spike
Jones (very clever) by many years. There were Charles Ahearn's
Millionaire Band (all tramps) and Wynducjer, who did imper-
sonations of great leaders and shaved a guy while leading his band.
Al Tucker had a swell comedy band, and Dave Apollon with his
Filipinos were real funny, but to me and Aggie, Jimmy Duffy's
satire on class bands was the greatest; he called it "Jimmy Duffy's
Mills Hotel Society Band"! (Mills Hotel, in case you don't know,
is a flophouse for guys who have no peck-and-pad dough.)
Another thing I want to tell you about bands is that the "band
craze" hit vaudeville a terrible wallop when they kept pouring
bands into every bill. It got so that they put the pit orchestras on
the stage to play the show (a la presentation houses— which to old
vaudcgocrs was like operating on a guy and then giving him the
ether) . They dressed the pit orchestras in monkey suits, the nice
flute and bass players became comics (they thought), everybody
was trying to get laughs, but it just didn't work. The public got
sick of the bands and about 1945 there were a lot of bands, but no
elates for them. Many of the would-be comics went back to the pit
and played for scale. It did develop a few, a very few, fair comics
and singers, but it disappointed hundreds of others (who got neigh-
borhood laughs and thought they were real).
I forgot to tell you about the great comedy piano players in
vaudc. Will II. Fox was the first. He did a take-off of Ignacc
Padcrcwski, the famous Polish pianist, and billed himself as "The
Paclawhiskcy of the Piano" — a real funny man. Tom Waters and
George Sweet started around this time too and were funny men at
the keyboard. The comedy piano players all had about the same
routines. They would play "Dixie" with the left hand and "Yankee
Lefty's Letters 74
Doodle" with the right hand, or show how popular songs would
sound if written by different composers. An imitation of a fife and
drum corps always was good for a hand. One-hand playing was
also a sure hit. Jimmy Conlin started playing while standing on
his head. Chico Marx (Four Marx Bros.) had an original style of
shooting into the keys with his finger. Herb Williams was the
funniest of them all with his trick piano that served beer, housed
chickens, etc.
I purposely didn't mention the dancing violinists. They had the
orchestras play double forte so it would drown out their lousy play-
ing. Did you ever hear one of those dancing fiddlers with just a
piano in the pit? Woiv/
But to come back to the bands, me and Aggie still claim that it
was the bands that helped play vaudeville out. SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
Assorted CMrpers
Dear Joe,
Singing, like dancing, was the foundation of honky-tonks, variety,
and vaudeville, and, when you come right clown to it, of almost
all entertainment! We had thousands of singing acts in vauclc.
Single men, single women, doubles, trios, quartettes, double quar-
tettes, sextettes, and big glee clubs like the Meistcrsingcrs* I wrote
you about the pop singers and serio-comic singers, so I'll tell you
now about the straight singers, guys and gals who depended on
their throats for a living, who when they couldn't hit a high note
couldn't take a prat fall to cover it up-
One of the sure-fire singing acts was the old-fashioned quartette!
I, mean the close-harmony singers, the barbershop chorders, who
used no microphones. There were two kinds of quartettes, The
straight singing quartette would come out in regular street clothes
ASSORTED CHIRPERS 75
(or tuxes), usually all dressed alike, and belch out ballads and pop
songs and sometimes even a hunk of opera. The tenor would usually
sing "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling/' the bass would contribute
"Down in the Coal Mine" or "Asleep in the Deep/' the lead would
usually sing a pop song, the baritone would render a mother song,
and they all would finish with a yodel to imitation banjo and
calliope accompaniment.
But it was the comedy quartettes that really wowed 'em. They
all had about the same pattern. The straight man wore a straw hat
or derby, stock tie, street suit, and of course carried gloves. Then
there was the "sissy boy/' with a large red bow tie (red was the
sissy color) and a felt hat with the brim turned up in front. Of
course the number one comic was a Hebrew or a Dutchman, and
the fourth man (usually the bass) was a tramp or a "bum legit/'
with busted high hat and coat trimmed with near fur; sometimes
this was switched to a "tough guy" wearing a cap, a turtle-necked
sweater, and a black eye. These comedy quartettes sold rough
comedy, hoke, hitting each other with newspapers and bladders
and salving the wounds with close harmony.
There were some great real old-time quartettes, but I want to
mention the ones of our time, because the standard chirpers were
plenty good in their own right. The Bison City Quartette lasted
the longest, remaining together from 1891 to 1931 with just a few
changes in the personnel. The original four were Gerard, Pike,
Hughes, and Cook. Milo joined in the early days and remained
until the finish, as did Roscoe. They were a lot of fun. The famous
Avon Comedy Four started around 1900, with Joe Smith, Charlie
Dale, John Coleman, and Will Lester. When they first started,
Dale did the Hcbc and Smith did the tough guy; later Joe did the
Hebe (and a great characterization) and Charlie did Dutch (no-
body better) , The other half of the four changed many times. Jack
Godwin was an early replacement and stayed with the quartette
many years; then great singers like Ecldic Miller, Irving Kaufman,
Frank Corbctt, Mario, and Lazar all joined the company at dif-
ferent times. Smith and Dale split the quartette about ten years
ago and did a two act (as they did when they first started) and
today are the oldest team in show biz, together fifty-three years
(but only ten years as a team). The Avon Comedy Four's "School
Act/' "The Hungarian Rhapsody/' and especially their "Dr.
Lefty's Letters ™
Kronkheit" will long be remembered. (More about them in the
two-man acts.)
Who will ever forget the great Empire City Quartette (Harry
Cooper, his brother Irving, Tally, and Harry Mayo)? Harry did a
Hebe comic, no make-up except for an oversized derby which he
kept tipping through the act to imaginary women in the audience,
saying, "How's the Mommeh?" which became one of the first
catch lines in vaude (years before "Do you wanna buy a duck?"
and "Vass you dare, Sharlie?") . The boys had grand voices besides
making 7em laugh.
The Empire Comedy Four (Cunningham, Leonard, Jenny, and
Roland) were a standard comedy quartette, as were the Arlington
Comedy Four (Lee, Roberts, Lane, and Manny). Roberts was a
Negro, and I believe this is the first time a Negro was in a white
vaude act (outside of pickaninnies). The Manhattan Comedy
Four had Sam Curtis, and Al Shean (later Gallagher & Shorn, and
the uncle of the Four Marx Bros.). The Bootblack Comedy Four
(Weber, Hayes, Elliot, and Adams), the Orpheus Four (Figg,
Huffer, Hannand, and Ford), the New York Newsboys7 Quartette
(who were all Philadelphians, Roland, Killion, McLoskcr, and
Dugan)— these were just a few of the many that were tops.
Of the straight and great singing quartettes there were THAT
Quartette (Sylvester, Pringlc, Jones and Morrell), one of the best,
fine soloists and terrific harmony, and THE Quartette (Webb,
Corbett, Campbell, and Scanlon; later Geoffrey OTIara and
Roberts were part of this outfit) . The Big City Four did opera and
ragtime. The Primrose Four were billed as "1,000 Pounds of
Harmony"; each man weighed over 250 pounds and could clo away
with half a keg of beer at a sitting (and did). These were all tops.
There were many more. Me and Aggie made a list of over three
hundred quartettes. Many of them billed themselves as "the So
and So Four'7 (like Quaker City Four), and there was one act
called "Worth While Waiting Four!"
There were more male groups, but there were a few female quar-
tettes that arc worth mentioning. The Four Haley Sisters, one of
the first (Grace, Bernicc, Mabel, and Lucille), the Four Cook
Sisters. THIS Quartette (a name copy of THAT male quartette),
then another gal outfit called themselves THAT OTHER Quar-
tette (get the angle?), A-B-C-D Quartette (later changed to the
Connoly Sisters), the Swedish American Quartette, the Military
ASSORTED CHIRPERS 77
Girls' Quartette, the Four Rubini Sisters (also played instru-
ments), and a few more.
Me and Aggie made another list of quartettes amounting to
over a hundred that billed themselves as "Tours," like the Big City
Four, and a hundred or more that billed themselves as "Quar-
tettes/7 like the Clipper Quartette. But it's too tough to type out
all those names; it would read like a directory. There were quar-
tettes that tried to get away from that kind of billing, like "Nights
with the Poets," Four Messenger Boys, "Night at the Club/' Four
Buttercups (all did tramps), Four Entertainers, Yacht Club Boys,
who introduced special lyrics into quartettes . . . and "Memories,"
a quartette consisting of a doctor, banker, artist, and minister.
There were "double quartettes/7 like the Old Homestead Double
Quartette, which included Fred Wykoff, Chauncey Olcott, and
Dick Jose, who later became stars. Spook Minstrels were also a
double quartette. You just can't stop four guys from singing har-
mony and near harmony. There is a national organization of
amateur quartettes that runs into a membership of many thou-
sands, the Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of
Barbershop Singing.
Now I come to the single chirpers, whose field was as crowded
as the Singer Midgets in a tiny elevator. Not the great single
women that sang pop songs or were serio-comics, but the straight
singers who depended more on their voices than their "catch lines"
—guys and gals who stepped out with good voices, maybe with a
piano accompanist. It was pretty tough for singers, who depended
on proper musical accompaniment, to go from town to town trying
to sing with an orchestra composed of guys who couldn't read
anything but scales (and there were plenty of them). I'll never
forget the gal who said to the small-town violinist at rehearsal,
"You are not a musician. What is your regular job?" And the guy
with the well-rosined bow looked up and said, "No. I'm the town
undertaker, but I play to have fun!"
But Big Time can boast of many great singers in whose throats
nightingales built their nests. When they got a bit rusty they went
to the small time, where the audience wrapped 'em in their hearts,
because they came to them with big reps, and they figured they
were tops at pop prices. They never heard the "rust" in their voices;
all they knew was that it was loud and at cheap prices, The small
time used "tired voices" like the Smiling Irishman sold tired cars!
Lefty's Letters 78
There were many great operatic voices on big and small time,
sopranos, contraltos, tenors, baritones, basses, and intermediates.
The regular vaude fans didn't go much for the high C7s! But these
acts made many a vaude fan out of opera lovers who started out
as slurnmers and ended up as steady customers.
Me and Aggie liked pop singers much better, but figured these
guys and gals with studied throats gave vaude a sort of high-toned
touch. When we first met them, we figured they'd pull an "aria"
on us, but when you got under their scales, they were regs. You
know, that's why me and Aggie liked vaudeville, for we met all
kinds of people from all lines of show biz and we didn't resent 'em
if they had talent. They were just as jealous of our getting laughs
as we were of their great voices. We each wondered "how they
do it?7' That was the swell part of vaudeville. Anybody could get
in it from a guy who could do a time step to a gal who could
reach high Cl
There were a lot of Metropolitan Opera stars who exercised their
tonsils in vaudeville! Grace Cameron was the first to leave opera
for vaude. Alclrich, Cicolini, Calve, and Gasparrio were others.
There were also Jenny DuFau, Vinic Daly, Suzanne Adams, Fritxi
Scheff (who was a vaude hcadlmcr and favorite for many years),
Scli De Lussan, Josephine Dunfc (prima donna of Gilbert & Sulli-
van shows), Henry Scotti (one of the greatest), Herman Bisplmn
(who explained every song), Anna Fitzu, Nanette Guilford, Ade-
laide Norwood, and Madame Scliumami-IIcink. Vaude in return
gave opera Mine. Marguerite Sylvia, who worked in vaude in 1894
for $100 a week and in 1910 was at the Met! There were Dorothy
Jarclon, Rosa Ponsellc (one of the greatest Carmens) who clicl a
vaude act with her talented sister Carmella, also later with the
Met (both discovered by our mutual agent Gene Hughes), John
Charles Thomas, Orville Harold, and Chief Capolican (an East
Side Indian), who all went to opera from vaude.
An odd engagement for an opera singer occurred in 1893 when
F. F. Proctor engaged Campanini, a great star in those days, to sing
in the lobby of his Twenty-third Street Theater, Proctor's idea was,
"When they hear such singing in the lobby for free, you can
imagine what they must think is on the inside!"
We had a lot of fine singers in vaucle from musical comedy and
operetta, like Vera Michclina, Lina Arbarbcnell, Craig Campbell,
Robert Chisolm, Juliet Dika, David Dugan (a Scotch tenor), Juc
ASSORTED CHIRPERS 79
Fong (a Chinese tenor), Mile. Fregoleska (a Rumanian nightin-
gale), Harnko Onkui (a Jap prima donna), Princess Lei Lani
(billed as the McCorniack of Hawaii), Sirota (the Jewish cantor
of Warsaw), Cantor Rosenblatt (a small man with a large red
beard who sang "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" for a finish),
George Dufranne (a French tenor), George Dewey Washington
(a great Negro singer), and Sissieretta Jones (better known as the
Black Patti) . They didn't look down your throat for your color,
race, or creed in vaude.
Names come pouring from my memory of our fine singers-
Grace Fisher, Alice Gentle, Lora Hoffman, Eddie Miller, Grace
Nelson, Yvette Rugel, Lillian Russell, Olga Steck, John Steel,
Irving Fisher, Belle Story, Sybil Vane (billed as the Galli-Curci of
vaude), Estelle Wentworth, Marion Weeks, Manuel Romaine,
Lee Tung Foo (who sang in Chinese, Irish, and German), Harry
Mayo (of the famous Empire City Quartette), Muriel Window,
Madame Flowers (who was known way back in 1898 as the Bronze
Melba), Jack Allman, Charles Purcell, Allan Rogers, Ruby Norton,
Charlie Hart, and Olga Cook.
Irish tenors were sure-fire hits. There were Andrew Mack,
Thomas Eagan, John McCloskey, Joe Regan, Stephen O'Rourke,
Tom Burke, Gerald Griffin, Walter McNally, James Dougherty,
Joseph Griffin, John Fogarty, and the one and only Chauncey
Olcott! John McCormack was offered a vaucle route, but he asked
for $25,000 a week, figuring on the basis of fourteen concert dates.
He didn't get it. Irish tenors had three musts on their program,
"When Irish Eyes Are Smiling," "They Called It Ireland," and
"Irish Mother Q' Mine/'
We had many singing doubles and trios, some who accompanied
themselves with instruments (mostly piano) : the Three Brox
Sisters, the Three Dolce Sisters, Hahn, Wells & O'Donell (three
big voices), the Imperial Chinese Trio (a baritone accompanied
by string instruments), Keller Sisters & Lynch (one of the very first
to do modern harmony singing), Alexander & Lightner Sisters
(Winnie Lightner later was a big hit in pics), Sylvester, Jones &
Pringle (terrific voices). There were dozens of Italian operatic sing-
ing acts; nearly all of them would sing "Chirabeerabee"; in fact,
the bookers would describe them as "a bunch of Chirabeerabees."
The 1900$ brought in a new craze in vaude, "The Rathskeller
Act," usually consisting of three men, a hot piano player and two
Lefty's Letters 80
hot singers. They came from night clubs and cafes. They were full
of pep, singing fast songs, with maybe a little clowning between
numbers. They seldom used ballads, as they were too slow. The fast
tempo of these acts would wake up any kind of an audience and
get plenty of applause. Even the poor ones were hits. They pepped
up vaude bills for about ten years and then gradually died out.
Some trios broke up and became teams or singles. Some of the best
of that type act were Sherman, Van & Hyman (later Tierncy);
Stepp, Mehlinger & King; Vardon, Perry & Wilbur; Stepp, Allman &
King; Corbett, Shepherd & Donovan; Adler, Weill & Herman; Big-
low, Campbell & Hayden; Dunham, Edwards & Farrcll; Green, Mc-
Henry & Dean; Hurst, Watts & Hurst; Hedges Bros. & Jacobson;
Hayden, Borden & Hayden; Medlin, Watts & Towns; Miller, Moore
& Gardner; Sharkey, Geisler & Lewis (that was Ted Lewis) ; Taylor,
Kranzman & White; Three White Kuhns; Webcr7 Beck & Frazcr;
Weston, Carrol & Fields; Yacht Club Boys (Billy Mann, Jimmy
Kern, George Kelly, and Charlie Adler) and the one and only and
greatest of them all, Clayton, Jackson & Durante! What a trio!
Among the great two-men singing acts were Rome & Dunn,
Healey & Cross, Freeman & Dunham, Cross & Dunn, and the best
of all two-men singing acts in show biz, Gus Van & Joe Schcnck
(Gus today is still one of our greatest dialect singers).
There were a few straight singing mixed acts, but many of them
became better known when they put in talk and dancing, so T will
write about them some other time. Among the greatest chirp teams
were Whiting & Burt; and Joe E. Howard with his many wife-
partners, Howard & Ida Emerson, Mabel Barrison, Mabel McCane,
and Ethelyn Clark. But I'm sure nobody's gonna get mad at me
and Aggie when we say the greatest man and woman singing act
was Nora Baycs and Jack Norworth. Nobody has ever touched them
as to class, diction, looks, harmony, and showmanship!
These were all honest singers, no microphones. It's a shame that
the recordings of many of these fine voices don't do them justice,
because the recording business in those clays wasn't what it is
today, and most of the records sound tinny.
But we that heard them in person have wonderful car memories,
SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
THE TWO-MAN ACT 81
Two-man
Dear Joe,
Out of the hundreds of two-man acts that paraded from the
honky-tonks to the Palace, there are less than a half a dozen who
are still active! Olsen & Johnson, Shaw & Lee, Arthur & Puggy
Havel, Glenn & Jenkins, and Smith & Dale.
From the beginning of old variety up to the near peak of vaude,
the two-man "talking" act was usually the comedy standout of the
bill before the mixed comedy teams took over. I'm talking about
the two-man acts that depended on talking routines and maybe
used song, dance, or parody for insurance. There were many that
did some talking, but really depended on their singing, dancing, and
even acrobatics for results.
The original two-man acts were in blackface, and really tried to
portray the Negro in looks and dialect. They later worked as black-
face comic and white straight man. The next teams to win favor
were double Irish, with exaggerated make-ups; later they too began
working as straight man and Irish comic. Then came the double
Dutch acts (they called the German acts Dutch); they too fol-
lowed the trend. There were very few double Hebrew two-man
acts; usually it was a straight man with a Hebrew comic.
You will notice that the comic characters followed the pattern
of our immigration. The last character two-man acts were Italian
(Clark & Verdi were the first to do this, with Clark doing the
straight, but in Italian dialect). And let me tell you right now that
in early variety and vaucle nobody took exception to the billings of
the different character acts, like "The Sport and the Jew," "Irish
by Name but Coons by Birth," "The Mick and the Policeman/'
"The Merry Wop," "Two Funny Sauerkrauts." It was taken in
good humor by the audience, because that is what everyone called
each other in everyday life. There were no pressure groups and no
third generation to feel ashamed of immigrant origins. So when I
use the original billings, don't blame me; blame your fathers and
grandfathers.
But the two-man act took on a different pattern as immigration
Lefty's Letters 82
died down, and the old-time comic stage characters "cleaned up"
(as did the characters in real life). The comic became an "eccentric
character/' which meant anything, a guy with a funny make-up,
baggy pants, big shoes, etc., anything to make sure the audience
knew he was the comedian. Toward the last days of vaude, the
comic would just use a funny hat to make him look different than
the straight man.
Most of the old-time two-man acts had belly-laugh material.
Their comedy was broad, physical, and rowdy. They could use gags
that the mixed act couldn't use. They could get bigger laughs than
the average single act, because they could feed each other and so
build up the gags. In early acts the material consisted of what me
and Aggie call "knick-knacks"— song and dance, cross-fire talk of
unconnected gags, playing musical instruments, and acrobatics.
They put everything they knew into their acts. Ninety-five per cent
of them were Irish; later the Germans, Hebrews, and Italians came
along; and still later the children of all of them, Americans, took
over.
In the early 19005 the style of the two-man act changed from the
kick-in-the-belly and spit-out-the-beans type to more rational stuff.
Instead of both members of the team dressing funny, a distinct
line was drawn between the comic and straight man. I always liked
the old gag that's been circulating among show folk for many years.
It's about the vaude actor waiting in the wings watching the first-
show, and he sees a fellow "artist" made up with a red nose, blue
wig, green make-up, teeth blacked out, baggy pants, funny hat,
loud vest, slap shoes, large checkered coat, and a big heavy watch
chain. Turning to the stage manager the actor sez, "By the looks
of that guy, he must be a very funny comedian." And the stage
manager, very surprised, whispers, "Why, that's the straight mttnl"
But as I said, in the early 19008 they kinda changed. The straight
man began to dress in street clothes, if you can call a flashy suit,
gray derby, two-toned button shoes, and stock tic "street clothes I"
The comic would wear "funny" misfit suits, etc,, so you couldn't
mistake him being the comic. And, most important, instead of;
catch-as-catch-can gags, which the straight man would lead into
with "By the by, what happened to you at ?" they now
started to use regular routines and stick to one subject; a few of
them even had thin plots, like Howard & North in "Those Were
the Happy Days" and "Back to Wellington" (they were the first
THE TWO-MAN ACT 83
team to do this type act) . They began to depend more on good
routines than on funny clothes and mugging. Some even started
to cut out parodies (which were the insurance of most of the two-
man acts), and some were even brave enough to walk off on a gag.
These were very few, because a "big finish" still meant a lot to
the hookers. A parody was sure-fire, especially one that had double
entendre.
The straight man or "feeder" was never really given enough
credit by audiences, although actors recognized his great contribu-
tion to the comic. He was as important as the comic to the success
of the act. A good straight man could make a fair comic look good
and a great comic look better! A good straight man had to make a
good appearance, dress well, have sex appeal, and have a good
speaking and singing voice. They were usually fairly well-educated
guys who had a good vocabulary (for an actor) and handled the
business for the act. The comic just had to be funny and was the
mixer of the team.
The best straight men in vaude were Ed Gallagher (Gallagher &
Shean), George LeMaire (Conroy & LeMaire), Jay Brennan
(Savoy & Brennan), George Walker (Williams & Walker), Frank
Batie (with Jack Wilson), Dan Quinland (Quinland & Mack),
Harry Klien (Klien Bros.), Joe Brady (Brady & Mahoney), Ed
Smith (Smith & Campbell), Val Stanton (Val & Ernie Stanton),
Paul McCullough (Clark & McCullough), Jack Lewis (Wynn &
Lewis), Al Lee (Cantor & Lee), Al Lloyd (Aveling & Lloyd),
Joe Wilton (Wilton & Weber), and more too numerous to
mention.
The two-man acts were a temperamental lot and would often
change partners. Of course, like in theatrical marriages, there were
a number of them that stayed together for many years. Teams like
Fox & Ward (together sixty years), Mclntyre & Heath (sixty-three
years together), and Smith & Dale (together for fifty-three years
but only ten years as a two-man act). Others who stuck together
for many years and were rated as solid two-man acts were Kenny &
Hollis, Weber & Fields, Hoey & Lee, Kennedy & Platt, Klien Bros.,
Roger Bros., Willie & Eugene Howard, Lewis & Dody, Miller &
Lyles, Cole & Johnson, Moss & Frye, Hawthorne & Cook, Raymond
& Cavalry, Otto Bros., Howard & North, Wilson Bros,, Friend &
Downing, Brady & Mahoney, and many more. Many of them, on
Lefty's Letters 84
the death of one partner, never repaitnered, like Bobby Clark, Bert
Williams, Al Klien, etc.
Among the many that changed partners for one reason or an-
other were Mr. Gallagher & Mr. Shean, originally in burly together;
then it was Shean & Warren, Shean & James Carson, and Gallagher
& Barrett. Ed Wynn had a lot of straight men; in 1907 it was
Wynn & Jack Lewis, 1909— Wynn & Al Lee, 1910— Wynn & Pat
O'Malley Jennings, 1911— Wynn & Russen (who played an Eng-
lish fop); then Wynn went into musical comedy and didn't need
any more straight men. Jack Lewis later did straight for Bill Hal-
ligan. James J. Corbett was one of the best straight men in the busi-
ness; he had authority, background, and personality. He "scolded"
many a comic. He was teamed for a few seasons each with Billy B.
Van, Frank Tinney, Jack Norton (who has made such a big hit on
TV as a drunk), Neil O'Brien (the great minstrel), and Bobby
Barry (of the famous Barry family). George LeMaire (Conroy &
LeMaire) started with his brother Mooney, and also worked with
Joe Phillips and Eddie Cantor. In the team of Russ Brown and Jim
Fallon, Russ was a great straight man, but he turned comic in some
acts, and worked with straight man Harold Whalen. There was a
guy called Tony Pearl (a swell performer) who had a new partner
nearly every week—Pearl & Tommy Meade (the jockey), Pearl &
Dan Hyatt, Pearl & Charlie Diamond, Pearl & Yosco, Pearl & Matt
Keefe, and many, many more. Charlie Mack, who originally started
with Bert Swor as Swor and Mack, changed to Moran & Mack, and
then had so many partners that he patented the name of Moran &
Mack (the Two Black Crows) and used different partners under
the same trade name; even Bert Swor, his original partner, worked
in pictures with Mack under the name of "Moran/'
There were many things that contributed to the breaking up of
a two-man partnership. Two of the main reasons were woman
trouble and the bottle. If one of the partners was married or court-
ing or on the make, the other partner might feel it was only a
matter of time before he would split the combination and put in
the wife or sweetheart and have the dough all going in one pocket.
The bottle broke up many an act, when one or sometimes both
partners would start using the "nose paint"' too often and too
heavily. It was a case of getting a rep of being unreliable, one of
the worst raps in show biz, because now vaudc was out of the
honky-tonk and variety era and was in the big-money class, Many
THE TWO-MAN ACT 85
a performer in the old days had a rep with stag audiences as a
drinking man, who seemed to be funnier on the stage when half-
lit, and the audience would be disappointed when he came on
sober. You must remember that before the shows became "family
style" the audience drank, the stagehands, musicians, and managers
all drank, so everybody met each other on an even basis, and the
drunk on the stage wasn't noticed very much. Ill tell you about
the terrific "staggering talent" some other time.
Many successful two-man acts stuck together for many years by
not chumming with each other. Some carried on a "yes-and-no"
partnership off stage; they just spoke when they had to discuss
business. They wouldn't live in the same hotel or eat in the same
restaurants if they could help it. Mclntyre & Heath didn't speak
to each other off stage for years, Montgomery & Stone carried on
a "yes-and-no" friendship and weren't mad at each other, but
Fred Stone was a family man while Dave was a great mixer with
the gang. The Russell Brothers (the famous Irish Servant Girls)
never spoke to each other unless it was absolutely necessary (and
they were actually brothers ) . These are only a few of a long list.
To offset the no-mix teams, there were many that were insepar-
able on and off stage. Aveling & Lloyd, Tom & Fred McNaughton,
Arthur & Fuggy Havel, Wilson Bros., Olsen & Johnson, Kaufman
Bros., Raymond & Cavalry, Friend & Downing, Kenny & Hollis,
Shaw & Lee, Savoy & Brennan, Fox & Ward, Gene & Willie
Howard, Buck & Bubbles, Bill & Gordon Dooley, Otto Bros., Kane &
Herman, Duffy & Sweeney, Roger Bros., Mack & Orth, Rockwell
& Wood, Claude & Clarence Stroud, Glenn & Jenkins, Miller &
Lyles, Weaver Bros., Burns & Kissen, Smith & Dale, Gitz Rice
and Hal Ford, and the Klien Bros, are just a few examples of the
ones you would always see together.
Sometimes one of the partners (usually the comic) would be
offered a part in a musical comedy if he would split up with his
partner, but because of loyalty would refuse a great opportunity.
Jack Kenny (Kenny & Hollis) is a case in point. I personally know
the many chances he had to become a name in musical comedy,
but stuck with his partner to the finish. They started in Boston when
they were very young; Kenny was a barber while Hollis was a
box-office man. They stayed together until they became managers
of a New England picture house, and then Hollis passed on. They
were together for fifty years.
Lefty $ Letters m
Other teams split to better themselves, and one or both became
stars. Eddie Cantor split with Al Lee (Cantor & Lee) to go into his
first show, Canary Cottage, and later became a star; Al Lee became
the manager of George White's Scandals and other big shows.
Willie Howard, after a long partnership with his brother Gene,
went into a show and starred; Gene became Willie's manager. Will
Mahoney of Mahoney Bros. & Daisy (Daisy was a dog) split and
became a headliner. Doc Rockwell, when he split with Al Wood,
took another partner, Al Fox, then went on his own as a headliner.
Jack Pearl split with Ben Bard and became a musical-comedy star.
Phil Baker and Ben Bernie split and both became tops in their own
fields.
The two-man acts were usually a good box-office draw because
the guys were spenders and joiners who belonged to clubs and fra-
ternal organizations, mixed with sporting crowds and the town
businessmen and so built up a following; this usually paid off at the
box office, which naturally fattened up their pay envelopes and
billing!
In the later years of vaude, when the two-man act was dying
down, they looked around for gimmicks to pep up their acts. Many
of them put a wife or sweetheart in the act for just a "bit"— -maybe
a flirtation bit; the gal might do a short specialty like a rumba and
maybe add a few bumps for good measure, or even do a song or
dance (if she was talented). This was called putting "class" or
"sex" in the act; audiences were getting tired of just looking at two
men. The booking office, who figured they were getting a bargain,
would add railroad fare for the "extra attraction" to the act's salary
—it made the show look "big"! It got so that when vaudc was
suffering with arthritis there were so many stooges in the act that
they should have been billed as "assisted" by the two-man team!
It is unfair not to mention the really great two-man acts that
handed out so many laughs, but if I did, it would take more pages
than are in Congress. But you certainly must find room for guys
like Lydell & Higgins, Morris & Allen, Dave Ross & Nat Bernard,
Orth & Fern, Smith & Campbell, Cole & Snyder, Kolb & Dill, Kane
& Herman, Seed & Austin, Rome & Gault, York & Adams, Adams &
Ghul, Anthony & Rogers, Bixley & Lemer, Carson & Willard, Crane
Bros., Flanagan & Edwards, Kramer & Morton, Burns & Fabrito (re-
member them? "I think you touch," when the straight man busted
the balloons), Hawthorne & Burt, Bailey & Austin, Al Fields & Dave
SHE-HE'S AND HE-SHE'S 87
Lewis, Hussey & Boyle, Collins & Peterson, Stuart & Lash, Burns &
Kissen, Swor & Avery, Waldron Bros., Webb & Burns, Weaver
Bros., the original Brutal Bros. (Geo. Cunningham & Fred Bula
Grant), who would commit mayhem on each other, and Howard
& Shelton, who walked right into radio and TV.
And so the old-time two-man talking act is gone, but the mem-
ory lingers on of the comics with baggy pants and big shoes. But
what me and Aggie remember most is the straight man, who fig-
ured he was a lady killer, the "scolder," as we called 7em, because
he scolded the comics with such lines as 'Tin ashamed of you—-
what you did when I introduced you to that lovely lady. . . ." He
was a "cuff shooter" (he would pull down his near-clean cuff after
each gag) . We remember how he would straighten his stock tie,
and hit the comic with his gloves (which was more refined than
hitting him with a newspaper) . And while he was singing his ballad
(usually in the middle of the act), he would look around the audi-
ence to see what "town gal" he could flirt with or date up. And
how he would glance toward the entrance during the act to see
how the "single woman" on the bill was taking it! Actors would
call the matinee-idol-type straight man "brassiere busters"— be-
cause one time a straight man came off and remarked, "Did you
hear that noise when I came on? That was brassieres busting." IVe
met some of these old-time straight men lately, and believe me,
they couldn't bust a penny balloon with a hatpin.
No longer do we hear them pan each other to the actors on the
bill, saying, "My partner is holding me back." . . . Yep, the old-
time two-man act is. gone— and so is their hangout— vaudeville!
SEZ
Your paly
LEFTY
She-He's and He-She's
Dear Joe,
Female impersonators started way back in what the professors
call the "Greek drama/' when women were not allowed to play in
public. The same rule was in force during Bill Shakespeare's time,
Lefty's Letters M
and many actors became famous in those days playing "dame
parts."
In America we date the female impersonators from our minstrel
shows, which, as you know, had all-male casts (except, of course,
the female minstrels which came later). In the blackface after-
pieces, the head comic would usually do a "wench." There was
always a great wench part in every minstrel show, and nearly all
great minstrel comics played a wench at some time in their careers.
The late Francis Wilson (first president of Equity) was one of
the first to do a wench in variety as a member of the team of
Mackin & Wilson. He was followed by such greats as Mclntyre &
Heath, Neil O'Brien, Bert Swor, and George "Honey Boy7' Evans.
George M. Cohan's dad (Jerry) did a wench in one of their early
acts.
In the late '8os the top female imps around were Leon (Kelly &
Leon), William Henry Rice, Charles Hey wood, Lind?, and Harry
Le Clair (the latter was the top female imp of that time and was
billed as the "Sarah Bernhardt of vaudeville." The old-time imps
were built kinda heavy for that line of work; Richard Harlow,
George Richards (a fine toe dancer), and Harry Le Clair all
weighed over 150 pounds.
There were many female imps in the honky-tonks and wine
rooms working the boxes as hostesses and entertainers— never re-
moving their wigs. Many years later during the tab show era in
vaude there was a shortage of chorus girls, and a number of male
chorus gals were recruited; there were a lot of surprised guys wait-
ing at the stage door for the gal they saw in the show, because
"she" would never show up. In 1840 there was a "Miss Smith"
who was a top ballerina and was really a man! Not so many years
ago Arico Wild, one of the few famous fern imps who is still work-
ing, did a dance in the Fokin Ballet.
When Tony Pastor made variety shows an entertainment for
women and children, the ''bitchy types" toned their routines and
make-ups away down to respectability and some became very fine
comedians, or should I say comediennes? Many of the early female
imps went in for comedy and naturally clicln't bother about clothes,
make-up, or class. The famous Russell Bros. (John & James) did
two Irish biddies; their act was billed ''Our Irish Servant Girls"
and was the greatest comedy act of all the fern imps of their time.
Johnny Russell died in 1925, His son James was an undertaker in
SHE-HE'S AND HE-SHE'S 8$
Elmhurst, Long Island. James wrote "Where the River Shannon
Flows" (some others have also claimed to have written it). After
the death of Johnny, Jimmy took Bert Savoy and taught him the
tricks of the craft, and when he retired Bert went with Jay Brennan
and they did an act on the lines of the Russell Bros., but not a
copy; it was modernized. Bert Savoy did a character somewhat like
Russell, only, instead of a biddy, he did an overdressed trollop.
Savoy & Brennan were the tops of all fern imp comedy acts.
George Munroe did a great "Bridget" monologue, telling all
about his "Aunt Bridget." Dave Warfield did a biddy with Weber
& Fields (but never in vaude) . Harry Bulger did a blond soubrette
number, Wilkie Bard did a swell old dame (many English comics
did dames in the pantomimes at Christmas— -and very funny too)r
Charlie Harris did an eccentric woman, Harry Leybourne (English-
man) did a pianologue and changed dresses very fast. J. C. Mack
did one of the funniest German housewives I have ever seen. A few
tried to copy him, but they couldn't even touch the hem of his
apron!
When Keith jacked up vaude standards, the old-time biddies
and wenches gave way to the "classy" female impersonators. Lind?y
"The Male Melba," and Stuart, "The Male Patti," had real fine
voices. The Great Richards was a fine toe dancer and soubrette.
Alvora was another fine toe dancer, as were George East, Allyn
Mann, and Bayes. The female imps did other things than just sing.
Thora and Lydia Dreams were fine ventriloquists, Marnello did a
pianologue, Havania did quick changes and balanced on tables and
chairs. There were a few that went in for big productions, singing
and dancing acts, like Bothwell Brown, who did "Cleopatra" and
"The Plantation Gal," and Cleveland Bonner, who also went in for
big dancing-act productions. They were all fine headliners for years.
Another great headliner in the heydey of vaude was the late
Karyl Norman, who as "The Creole Fashion Plate" made up as a
"high-yaller" gal and was great. In 1925 he received a sixty-week
route from the Orpheum Circuit, the longest route ever issued on
that circuit. He played at least two weeks in each house, four in
Frisco, five in Chicago, three in St. Louis, and full weeks in
Orpheum Juniors, changing his act when playing two or more
weeks in a house. He was the only one that ever did this, not only
among the female imps, but of any kind of act.
There were many more fine artists, like McGarvey, Vardman,
Lefty's Letters 90
Taciano, Max Waldron, Eugene Pippin, Archie Guerine (a Chi-
cago lawyer), Saona, Russell Bingham, Herbert Charles, Bisceaux,
Divine Dodson, Love & Haight, Yarick & Yolanda, and Jackie May.
Those who went in for comedy were Malcolm Scott (an Eng-
lishman), Francis, who did an eccentric woman, as did Olin
Landick, who talked about his "Cousin Cassey" and made a big
hit on radio. Alfred Letine was swell, but the tops of all the single
comedy fern imps were James Watts, Bert Enrol, and Herbert
Clifton!
The comedy teams where one did straight while the other did a
comedy dame were of course headed by the incomparable Bert
Savoy & Jay Brennan (later Brennan & Rogers— and even Lou
Holtz did straight for Jay when he took over the comedy end of
the act). Bert Savoy was killed by lightning while walking with
Jack Haley at Long Beach. (When the great wit William Collier
heard about this, he said, "I hear that all the female impersonators
are now carrying lightning rods/') Mclntyre & Heath in their skit,
"Waiting at the Church/' did a real funny wench bride. Yates &
Wheeler were also a good comedy team. Many two-man acts would
use a comedy burlesque dame for a "yok" finish, but were not fcm
imps in the true sense of the word. Among these were Bcdini &
Arthur, Jack Wilson, Bixley & Lerner, George Lyons & Eddie Parks,
Miller & Mack, Dale & Boyle, Bowman Bros., Alexander & Scot*
(Scott really did a beautiful high yaller), and even George Jcsscl
put on a skirt for a finish once! It was all sure-fire stuff.
There were a number of "trick" female impersonators in vaudc,
Ray Monde came on as a woman, at the finish of the act he re-
moved his wig and showed that he was a man, then for an encore
he removed another wig and showed long beautiful hair like a
woman's. The audience was left guessing. Fagg & White, a man
and woman act, with the man doing the "woman/' did a switch on
Ray Monde— he would take off one wig to show he was a woman,
then take off another one to show he was a man , . . Some switch,
eh? Did you know that the wonderful dancing act, the Mosconi
Bros., started their dancing careers with Charlie doing a "dame"
partner in a waltz number with his brother Louis? ( If you want a
punch in the nose, mention this to Charlie.) The late Lew Lchr
(of "Monkeys are the cwazicst people" fame) did a burlesque gal
in his vaude act. The straight act of the Musical Berrcns had
one of the boys doing a gal for no reason at all In many aerobatic
SHE-HE'S AND HE-SHE'S 91
troupes there were one or two of the boys made up as gals, to
make the tricks look harder or to remove the "too many men"
curse for booking purposes. These people never took off their wigs.
The majority of the fem imps went in for real impersonation,
fooling (or trying to fool) the audience with their wonderful
make-up, clothes, demeanor, voice, and mannerisms. In the major-
ity of cases the audience would never know or even guess it wasn't
a woman until at the end of the act "she" would remove her wig
to a big Ahh! from the audience (those who had never seen it
before). He would thank the audience in a deep bass voice, stick
out his chest, and walk off stage real mannish. These fem imps had
a great draw at the box office. Women would come in to see them
not so much for their talent as for the clothes and millinery they
wore, to copy their really "advanced" styles.
Many of these guys had wives and families. Those who carried
dressers to help them with their many changes would have women
dressers. Funny? It was necessary in order to have the "woman
touch" in their dressing, and also for the mending and sewing of
new costumes. Some carried their wives for this job and a few even
had their mothers dress them. The real good female imps were cer-
tainly not to be classed with "freak acts," because they had talent,
fine voices, a sense of humor, and were good dancers and experts in
the art of make-up. Many of them started via "college shows"
where they played the parts of dames. After World War I there
were plenty of fem imps in vaude. Service acts were partly respon-
sible. At a Middle Western naval station during the war, a call was
issued for volunteers for "chorus girls" for the show they were put-
ting on . . . 125 responded.
Even if you're a kid, you must have heard your dad or mom talk
about the late and great Julian Eltinge, the greatest of all female
impersonators past, present— and even future 1 His make-up, ward-
robe, dancing, artistic ability, and songs were never offensive. It was
true art. He was one of the very few, in fact the only one me and
Aggie ever knew, who made (and lost) fortunes as a female imper-
sonator. He headlined for years in vaude, became a star on Broad-
way and in pictures, and traveled with his own show all over the
world. Eltinge was the only female imp (or any other kind of an
imp) that had a theater named after him. Al Woods renamed the
old Chandler on West Forty-second Street the Eltinge Theatre
(now an office building) .
Lefty's Letters 92
One of the reasons for Eltinge's great success (besides his talent)
was a press stunt that was pulled when he first went into vaude
after leaving college. It set him right with the public, who were a
bit suspicious of female impersonators (especially the men in the
audience). He was presold as a real honest he-man by a staged
rough-and-tumble fight in a Forty-second Street and Ninth Avenue
saloon, where he cleaned out the joint of tough characters because
someone made a remark about female impersonators being
"nances/' The papers gave it plenty of front-paging. It was the first
time that a fern imp had hit anyone instead of scratching 7em. The
papers told what a great boxer Eltinge was in college, and that
meant that he was a real man (anyone who could box or fight in
those days was a real man). This publicity followed him wherever
he went and kept him from being heckled throughout his career,
because the average heckler is afraid of a punch in the nose! Eltinge
was a well-educated gentleman and fine company, and actors liked
him a lot. To have seen Eltinge (who was a pretty heavy guy) in a
woman's bathing suit, evening gown, as the "Brinkley Girl," doing
his "Incense Dance/' or hearing him sing in his low sweet voice
was something to remember as long as you lived. He was real talent,
which he proved when he broke box-office records in vaude and
pic houses.
Me and Aggie were thinking that since Etienne Giradot put on
skirts in Charley's Aunt (over fifty years ago), many guys have
followed suit, like Syd Chaplin in silent pics, Jack Benny in talkies,
Jose Ferrer on the stage, and Ray Bolger in the musical comedy
version. It must be fun putting on "drag" for that kind of dough!
When vaude died, the female imps went back to the equivalent
of the honky-tonks where they started. They worked in New York's
Greenwich Village joints, and a few "odd spots" around the coun-
try where the law winked. Of all the great female impersonators of
two-a-day vaude, there is only one left, Frances Renault". Although
he is now in another business and doing very well, he stages an
annual recital at Carnegie Hall, where many of his old-time vaude
friends appear with him as a sort of get-together. It gives Frances a
chance to get the moth-ball smell out of his famous feathered
wardrobe (he was known in vaude for his fine aigrettes, ostrich
plumes, etc.). He had a pic in Variety showing him with Harry
Bright (a fighter, who was a featherweight contender); the pic
showed Bright on the canvas taking the count, and underneath it
SHE-HE'S AND HE-SHE'S 93
said, "Nothing ladylike about this." A page out of Eltinge's book,
but it didn't work as well. Some of the many fern imps of vaude
became famous designers, milliners, dressmakers, hairdressers, and
some went to Hollywood where they are doing very well. Me and
Aggie never heard of 'em going back to blacksmithing, but after all
we are living in an automobile age!
They were nice guys, those "dames"!
And now for the He-She's!
The male impersonators didn't have any reason to "break out,"
like the fern imps did! With them it was just a case of trying to be
a little different and add novelty to their performances. In England
they had gals play "boy" parts long before us, in their Christmas
pantomimes. We had sort of male impersonators in burlesque, if
you can call a gal that appeared in a man's jacket and tights a male
imp. These parts were usually played by the leading ladies as an
excuse to show off their gams, and the majority of them had good
excuses!
It was in the early '90$ that the male imps really started to give
an honest impersonation. The gals with the fine shapes naturally
showed off men's clothes in a way that no man ever could. They
looked like men would have loved to look, as to the fit of their
clothes— but in spite of it, most of the male imps looked like
women. There was a gal by the name of Lillie Western who did a
musical act in the 'gos dressed as a man. It was a kind of novelty.
She played all kinds of instruments, and played 'em like a woman
dressed in men's clothes. So what? Ella Wesner sang English
music-hall ditties and did monologues, and was headlined on Tony
Pastor's first show. She did one routine about falling asleep in a
barbershop, another of a drunk — and very clever. Kitty Bingham,
who dressed in evening clothes, also did music-hall songs copied
from the English. In the '905 there were also Georgia Marsh,
Louise Elliott, and Vivian Wood, who were all very good.
But it took a little English gal by the name of Vesta Tilley to
really get the American audiences off their nut about male imper-
sonators. When she sang "Dear Boy, Ta Ta," "Only a Chappie,"
and "The Eton Boy," you just felt like going up on the stage and
kissing her (of course knowing all the time she was a gal). She
was the Julian Eltinge of the male impersonators! Her hit in Amer-
ica opened up the gates to all the other male imps. The men's
tailor shops were jammed with "wanna-be Tilleys." Men ordered
Lefty's Letters **
the exact copies of Vesta Tilley's clothes, and wondered why they
didn't fit them like they fit Tilley. There was another gal, Claire
Romaine, "billed as "London's Pet Boy/' who was very good; she
was sort of an American relation, because she was the stepsister of
Dorothy Russell, her father, Ted Solomon, being Lillian Russell's
first hubby!
To pay back England for Vesta Tilley, we sent a little Baltimore
gal to London. Her name was Ella Shields! She went to England in
1904 and sang "coon" songs in skirts and was a big hit. It was in
1910 that she first did her male impersonation, at the Palladium,
where she became one of the greatest hits of that famous theater.
Her ex-husband wrote a song for her called "Burlington Bertie from
Bow/' which remained her insurance until her death. She came
back to America and played all the Big Time as an English artist.
She later played the small time and when things got rough in
vaude played some night clubs (where they gave her perfect atten-
tion—which was a great compliment, if you know New York night
clubs), At a get-together at the Palace in New York (to boost a
pic)7 I called on Ella, and she walked down the aisle and sang
"Burlington Bertie" (with Benny Roberts and his gang faking it
in the pit), and she received a tremendous ovation. She went back
to London in 1951 and that loyal audience received her as always,
as a great artist and headliner. ( Me and Aggie love those English
for their loyalty.) On August 3, 1952, while appearing at a Sunday
variety concert at a Lancashire seacoast resort, she had just finished
her favorite song when she collapsed with a heart attack. Her last
words were, "Thank God, I didn't let 'em down. I got through with
'Burlington Bertie/" She went "upstairs" August 5, 1952. A fine
artist and a great gal.
We had other fine artists besides Ella. Kathleen Clifford, Agnes
Mahr, the "American Tommy Atkins/' Eva Mudge, the famous
"Military Maid/' who did a soldier, Jean Southern, Hetty Urma,
Toma Hanlon (both really great) , Winnie Crawford, Tillie Santoy,
Truly Shattuck, and one of the pioneers and the best of the old-
timers, Delia Fox. Eva Prout, Lucille Tilton, Ann Clifford, who
had a double voice, Celia Galley, who sang her songs in French,
Emma Don, and Nellie Coleman were all fine English artists,
We also had some mixed teams where the female member did a
male imp, like Roy Cummings & Helen Gladying and Donahue &
SHE-HE'S AND HE-SHE'S 95
Stewart (the great Jack Donahue); his wife did the comedy
dressed as an eccentric male in their first act.
Ed Fennel & Lena Tyson (she did the boy), Inge & Farrel, and
Parrel & Bartlett were some of the acts where the females did the
male imps.
Sister acts like Tempest & Sunshine (Tempest did a swell boy),
Mollie & Nellie King (Mollie did the boy) , Adele Ferguson & Edna
Northlane, and the Armstrong Sisters were some of the others,
and in the Moore & Young act they both changed to male clothes
for a finish.
Hetty King was in the same class as Vesta Tilley; she did a sailor,
and when she sang "I'm Going Away/' you just didn't want to let
her. In the last twenty years of the Big Time, there was a little gal
who without a doubt was the real American Vesta Tilley— Kitty
Doner, who retired when the Big Time stopped, because she was
Big Time! There were a couple of gals by the name of Grace
Leonard and Lillian Schriber who took the billing of the "pocket
edition of Vesta Tilley/7 but, although they were good, none of
them deserved that billing but Kitty Doner! By the way, did you
know that Fanny Brice did a male imp number in white tie and
tails and finished with a good buck dance? Mae West at one time
did a boy in her act. Can you imagine Mae doing a boy? I mean as
an impersonation? She found out that doing a gal paid off much
better.
The only male impersonator left today is the very clever Florrie
LaVerc, who played all the Big Time and who is still playing what
is left of vaude, TV and club dates, with her composer-pianist
husband, Lou Handman.
There is a reason for the passing of the male impersonator. It
ceased to be a novelty to see a swell-shaped gal wearing men's
clothes, when all kinds and shapes of gals started walking around
the streets in slacks; the way some of them looked in pants, they
looked like neither men nor women!
But they were nice dames, those "guys"! SEZ
Yoi/r pal,
LEFTY
Lefty's Letters
Transfignrators!
Dear Joe,
Did that "Transfigurator" billing get you? Well, it sent me and
Aggie to a guy by the name of Webster who knows more about
words than Henry Mencken, and that's knowing words. Webster
in his book sez that transfigurator means: "The act of transfiguring,
or the state of being transfigured, a change of appearance or form;
especially to give an exalted meaning or glorified appearance, to
make glorious, idealize, etc." Well, this guy Webster was a smart
cookie; he must have been, to just put a lot of words down without
trying to make a story out of them. Anyway, regardless of what he
sez, a transfigurator to me and Aggie meant a "protean" or "quick-
change" artist,
In 1878 the Family Story Paper published a novelette called
"Mansfield the Metamorfosis." And thirty-five years later Charles
T. Aldrich and a few more added a t at the end and used it as
billing instead of protean or transfigurator, because it sounded
more mysterious. Anyway, there were very few of them in vaucle,
maybe it was because it was a tough act to copy. Besides requiring
a good actor, it took a lot of time and patience to figure out the
quick changes. My old friend Owen McGivncy once told me that
it took him sometimes a year to just "break in" a coat; he would
put it on and take it off maybe 100 times a day before he ever used
it in his act. The clothes had to be kept in perfect repair, linings,
etc., had to be perfect, because a tear or a loose sleeve could spoil
the whole timing of an act!
There is a difference between protean acts and quick-change acts.
The latter just make quick changes with maybe a few words of talk,
no plot, while the protean acts did a regular sketch with plot, and
one man or woman would play all the characters. Sometimes they
had an assistant to say a few words, not only to cover up the quick
change but to further the plot, but there were very few of these.
Of course a few covered up bad acting with quick changes. The
sketches protean actors used were just fair, as the main interest
was how fast they made the different changes.
TRANSFIGURATORSl 97
The protean act was the first of the one-man (or woman) shows.
In 1873 G. Swayne Buckley retired from minstrels and gave a pro-
tean show, "On the Track," in which he played eight different
characters, ten musical instruments, sang twelve songs, and danced
six dances. Robert Fulgora was one of the first of the American
protean artists and was the first to use the billing, "Transfigurator."
He also did a quick-change act, opening in street clothes and in full
view of the audience making ten changes in costume, leaving the
stage dressed in women's clothes; in less than five seconds he reap-
peared in full evening clothes. About 1895 there was in France one
of the greatest protean actors, Leopold Fregoli, who gave the entire
opera, Faust, running one hour and a half. He came to America in
1906 and when he died his wife, Mme. Fregoli, did her husband's
act.
Some more early protean acts were Harry Le Clair & Edward
Leslie, who were protean and burlesque artists in an act called
"Cleopatra up to Now." Miss Johnstone Bennett & S. Miller Kent
did a sketch, "A Quiet Evening at Home" (this act was formerly
done by Mrs. Barney Williams), in which Miss Bennett played
five different characters. In 1904 Charles T. Aldrich, who could
and did do most everything from fine juggling to fine acting, was
billed as the "American Fregoli." Roland West did a protean act
called "The Criminal" (he later became a Hollywood producer).
In 1909 Charlotte Parry did "Into the Light," in which she played
the part of an Italian woman in a courtroom. She was accused of
murder and she played the parts of all the witnesses — she finally
got the chair (not for her acting). Her next act was "The Corn-
stock Mystery," in which she played seven characters. She played
this act both here and abroad and finally retired when she married
"Jolo," the Variety rep in London for many years.
One of the real pioneers and great protean acts in vaude were
two fine Belasco actors, Nick Long & Idaleen Cotton. They did
many acts, but "My Wife's Diamonds" and "The Banker and the
Thief" were the best. Idaleen would do ten or more characters.
Margaret Wycherly, a fine actress, did an act called "In Self
Defence," with which she headlined the Big Time for many years.
R. A. Roberts, the noted English protean artist, was a sensation
here with his act, "Dick Turpin." He later did an act, "Cruel
Coppinger," which was good, too, but never as much of a hit. An-
other big hit was Henri Du Vries in an act, "Who Is Guilty?"
Lefty 's Letters 9®
(This was first done by a Dutch actor, Theodore Boumustin, in
Holland.) There was an Italian, who billed himself as "Ugo
Beondi," who made his changes so fast that the audience claimed
he had a twin brother, and it crabbed his act. He was really great.
Arthur Bernardi was one of the first to use a transparent set, so you
could see how he made his changes. They all used this idea after
going around the circuit a few times; it sort of created new interest.
H. V. Fitzgerald, Hal Stevens in "Reveries/' Robert Hildreth in
"A Four Leaf Clover," Errol in "Self-Judged/' Richard Keane, and
Mark Linder all did protean acts. Norton & Russell did a quick-
change act, and in 1908 there was an eighteeen-year-old Italian gal
by the name of Fatima Niris who was a quick-change artist doing
about fifteen characters. And about that time there was a Herr
Jansen who did his act in German.
There were many acts around who were doing impersonations of
famous musicians by putting on wigs, etc. These were not classed
as protean or quick-change acts. Hymack was really one of the
greats of quick-change artists. While he delivered a funny mono-
logue, the color of his gloves, tie, and boutonniere would change
right in front of the audience. Nobody ever did this act after
Hymack died. "Doc" Baker in a flash act called "Flashes" did very
quick changes.
Caesar Rivoli, a Frenchman, was in Fregoli's class and headlined
for many years. Laura Buckley did a monologue-type protean act.
It was in 1922 that Owen McGivney came to America with his
protean act, "Bill Sykes." He was a terrific hit. He also would do a
burlesque with other members of the bill called "The Wager/'
which was very funny. He too later used a transparent scene. He
headlined the big and small time for many years, even into TV,
where he appeared recently.
It was nice of England sending Owen McGivney to us. lie has
not only outlasted all the other protean acts in America, but also
has outlasted vaudeville! SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
MIMICS 99
Mimics
Dear Joe,
Mimicry was started by monkeys and parrots and then taken up
by humans making faces or using somebody else's voice or manner-
isms. When a kid went to the theater and came back doing an
imitation of an actor, as long as he had one or two of the character-
istics of the original—a gesture, a voice, a look— it would pass with
his parents and relatives for genius, and he was on his way to open
the stage door— mimicry was the skeleton key!
I don't believe there ever was an actor who when starting on his
career didn't copy some other actor whom he set up as his idol and
model. This was especially true of vaude. Beginners would first
copy their idol's voice and mannerisms and in the majority of cases
even take his material! It was the simplest way to get into show
biz with a ready-made act! Many of them, as they became better,
dropped more and more of the things they had copied and replaced
them with their own material and personality. Soon they were on
the road to a silk-lined living, being imitated by others! Some just
stuck to the regular "impressions" and went through show biz
getting by. Those two words, "getting by,7> are chloroform to the
mediocre actor. One who is willing just to get by is a "static"
performer.
It was harder for the old-time impressionists to mimic anyone,
because they didn't have the help of that magic hunk of invention,
the microphone. The "impression" as to voice had to be pretty
true. A mike can make a mimic out of almost anyone (and has);
it gives a certain quality to a voice that doesn't sound anything like
the original if done without a microphone.
There never was a shortage of mimics in vaude. Among the tops
were Cecilia Loftus (who got $2,000 a week way back in 3 007),
Elsie Janis, Gertrude Hoffman, Ina Claire, Juliet, La Petite
Mignon, Eugene Fougere, Jeanne Eagles, Edna Luby, Edna Aug, La
Belle Blanche, Clarice Mayne (English), Chagnon, Venita Gould,
and Sibylla Bowhan (who I believe has played to more GIs than
any other gal, remaining with the USO since its beginning; she has
Lefty's Letters WO
played in all countries and on every front) . Most of these acts used
their own material, but in the style of the person they were imitating.
The men mimics were Julius Tannen, who did a great Cohan
and Hitchcock, Taylor Holmes, who did Richard Mansfield, and
Georgie Price, who did Jolson and Jessel. Willie Howard did a
swell Jack Norworth singing "Smarty." Nat Goodwin started as a
mimic, as did Willie Weston, Sydney Grant, and others. Some oF
the boys and gals graduated to stardom in legit and musical com-
edy, but only when they replaced mimicry with originality.
One formula (mostly with the woman mimics) was to sing a
popular song straight and then sing it like different stars would.
Of course the easiest approach is the one still being used: "I was at
a party last night and all the stars were there. When they asked
Ethel Barrymore to do something she sounded something like
this . . ." and into the imitation. The mimic of today has a wider
field to choose from among the personalities of stage, screen, radio,
and politics.
One of the most imitated performers years ago was George M.
Cohan, who was the rage in America for many years. Anyone who
could remember the words of "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy," sing
through his nose, and drop one side of his mouth did a Cohan
imitation. Bobby Barry (who was practically his understudy),
Johnny Stanley, Julius Tannen, Sydney Grant, Charlie King, and
Seymour Felix among the men, and Elsie Janis, Gertrude Hoffman,
Juliet, and La Belle Blanche among the women, all did fine imita-
tions of George M. But Dave Mallen was the greatest of them all.
He started in show biz with an imitation of Cohan and for forty
years practically lived "George M." in talk and mannerisms; he
knew all his songs, played his parts in revivals, etc, George M,,
after seeing him at a Friars shindig, turned to me and said, "I never
was that good." A great compliment from a great guy.
It was only last year that Mallen met George M. Cohan, Jr., for
the first time. They had a long chat at the bar of the Lambs about
the "old man," and when Mallen left young Cohan turned to Mike
the bartender and said (in a typical Cohan manner), 'lie's a great
little guy, that Davey Mallen, a great little guy, but he does my old
man from the wrong side of his mouth." Most everyone believed
that George M. sang from the side of his mouth with the corner
dropped down a bit as an affectation, but the truth was that as a
MIMICS 101
kid he was hit with a baseball on the mouth and a few stitches
had to be taken— and it left a bit of a droop to it.
A close runner-up to Cohan among the imitators was David
Warfield. When he made his great hit in The Music Master,
anybody who could beat his breast with his hands and say, "If you
dun't vant her, I vant her/' did an imitation of Warfield. Alexan-
der Carr was the greatest in this field. Then Al Jolson started a
couple of generations imitating him. All you had to do was to get
down on one knee and yell "Mammy!" At one time when the
Shuberts were having contract trouble with him they had five actors
rehearsing to replace him: George Jessel, Harry Wardell, Lou
Holtz, Georgie Price, and Buddy Doyle. (They found out you just
couldn't replace Jolson by rehearsing people.) All of them made
good on their own.
Eddie Foy, Sr.7 had thousands of imitators, but best of them all
are Charlie Foy and Eddie, Jr. Ethel Barrymore, with her famous
line, "That's all there is, there isn't any more," was a cinch for
nearly everybody to mimic. Vesta Victoria was copied singing
"Waiting at the Church"; just a bum bridal veil and a faded bunch
of flowers were an excuse to use that great song in the guise of an
imitation. Bert Williams7 pantomime poker game and his song,
"Nobody," were attempted by everybody. Anna Held singing "I Just
Can't Make My Eyes Behave" was done by every female mimic
that had eyes! Another favorite was George Beban reciting his
poem, "In the Sign of the Rose/7 yelling "Rosa, Rosa!" Eddie
Leonard, the great minstrel, had all of them (including Al Schacht,
the "Clown Prince of Baseball") singing his famous songs, "Ida"
and "Roley Boley Eyes." Florence Moore did an excellent imita-
tion of him. Irene Franklin had to stop the mimics from doing her
famous song, "Red Head/' by law, as they were not even announc-
ing that they were doing Irene Franklin.
Eva Tanguay was imitated by many gals who couldn't even say,
"I Don't Care." At one time there was an epidemic of Teddy
Roosevelt imitations which consisted of showing the teeth in a
broad smile and saying, "Deelighted!" Anyone who could wave a
large picture hat while singing announced it as an imitation of
Grace La Rue. Other stock imitations were of Fritzi Scheff singing
"Kiss Me Again/' Blanche Ring singing "Rings on My Fingers,"
Bessie McCoy singing "Yama Yama Man," and Jack Norworth
singing "Smarty" (Willie Howard did this almost as well as Jack).
Lefty's Letters 102
As for dance imitations, I must bunch Joe Frisco's jazz dance
with cigar and derby and Pat Roone/s waltz clog while singing
"Daughter of Rosie O'Grady" as the most imitated. (Pat, Jr., was
weaned on that dance and does it the best.) Many tried to imitate
Bill "Bo jangles" Robinson's stair dance, but it was a bit too tough.
Many copied Harland Dixon's original trick of raising the shoul-
ders while doing a step, Bunny Granville's "drunk" dance, Will
Mahoney's "falling down" dance, and there were thousands of
imitations of Moran & Mack (the Two Black Crows). And any-
body who had a battered high hat at home tried to imitate Ted
Lewis saying, "Is everybody happy?" Jim Barton's "mad dog story"
and Ben Bernie's famous "Yowza, yowza" were favorites, and no
act was an act unless you did Cantor singing "If You Knew Susie/'
Buddy Doyle and Milton Berle did very good imitations of Eddie.
Imitations of Frank Tinney telling gags to the leader, Bert Fitz-
gibbons "breaking" the footlights, Vesta Tilley singing "Following
in My Father's Footsteps/' Laddie Cliff's style of dancing, Bee
Palmer and Gilda Gray's shimmy dance, Clifton Crawford reciting
"Gunga Din," and the Duncan Sisters' harmony singing were
plentiful
All you needed for doing Fanny Brice (so they thought) was to
wear a short black dress, lean against a lamppost smoking a ciga-
rette with a baby spot on you, and sing "My Man/' Montgomery &
Stone's famous scarecrow dance and Weber & Fields' choking
scene were done a lot. Then came the hordes of "Boop-a-doopers"
imitating the great little Helen Kane. Maurice Chevalier had every
kid putting on a straw hat, sticking out his lower lip, and singing
"Mimi." George Givot was one of the best on this one. Helen
Morgan had a host of imitators singing "Bill"; Joe Frisco did the
funniest satire on this that was ever done. Gcorgic Price and Willie
Howard were really great mimicking George Jcsscl singing "My
Mother's Eyes" (off key) . Will Rogers was a cinch for anyone who
could put on a Western hat, chew gum, and say, "All I know is
what I read in the papers" (from then on they were lost) .
I believe that the most imitated men in the world were Harry
Lander, Charlie Chaplin, Gallagher & Shcan, and Jimmy Durantcl
Just try and find me a guy who hasn't tried to sing "She Is My
Daisy" with a burr; they ran Charlie Chaplin contests all over the
world; and there were so many imitations of Gallagher & Shcan
that the Keith office had to issue a rule that there would be only
MIMICS 103
one on a bill! And of course as for the great Schnozzola, Jimmy
Durante— there's millions of feml (Eddie Garr was the first mimic
to do Durante and was great.) The most imitated women were
Eva Tanguay and Mae West. Just think back and try to remember
any kid just learning to talk who didn't say, "Why don't you come
up and see me sometime?" and their doting mothers would say,
"Another Mae West!"
From 1897 to 1910 there was an epidemic of mimics in vaude, It
died down for about five years and then broke out again and
lasted until about 1925, when the mimics took a powder for
awhile. Creators, not imitators, became the order of things. Then
radio came in and with it a plague of mimics got aboard the gravy
train — many very good ones who have since given up mimicry— but
as I said before, I'm only telling you about the guy and dolls in
vaude up through the Palace days.
The reason mimics get over so well is that no one in the audience
wants to be embarrassed by having the people around him think
that he hasn't seen the artist being imitated, so he applauds. Nat
Goodwin, while playing Boston, announced an imitation of Edwin
Booth. He did a few lines and some man applauded. Goodwin
walked to the foots and said, 'Til bet you never saw him in your
life!" And the old one comes to mind of when Dave Warfield saw
a certain mimic give an imitation of him, turned to a friend, and
said, "One of us is lousy!"
There were acts in variety and vaude that called themselves
mimics and imitators that were not. What they did was much
easier than mimicry, because they used wigs, beards, mustaches,
or complete false faces. They would announce imitations of great
men, past and present, and would make up quickly in full view of
the audience as a well-known president, general, or king (mostly
King Edward and the Kaiser) . Some of them would make up like
a famous composer and lead the orchestra in one of his popular
compositions. Among these "mimics" the best were Willie Zim-
merman, who would also show how President Taft and William
Jennings Bryan would lead an orchestra, Harry Allister, Joseph
Callahan, Saona, and the Great Lafayette, who modestly billed him-
self as "Europe's Greatest Mimic/1 The greatest of all these so-called
imitators was Henry Lee. To give you an idea, here is his opening
speech.
Lefty's Letters ™*
"Ladies and gentlemen, introductions are always difficult
things to effect. It is easy to say too much or too little. Then
again we may introduce the wrong people. Today I propose to
introduce to you several noted personages, Pope Leo, Prince
Bismarck, General Grant, General Lee, Rudyard Kipling, and
others. If you do not like them, the fault is either theirs or
yours. They will do their best to please you. Of this I give you
my personal assurance. But assurance was always a less marked
feature of my character than modesty. Being modest, I am
naturally retiring, and as I am retiring, I beg leave to withdraw.
Strike up, oh music of the starry spheres, and captive lead our
willing, listening ears."
Brother, that's what me and Aggie call "telling 'em'/' Eh?
For young talent with spotlight fever, mimicry is good insurance.
Youngsters may come along who will dare to break tradition and
bring us something new in mimicry that so far nobody has done.
Mimics will always be part of the entertainment personnel, because
America loves to have its greats and near greats satirized, ridiculed,
burlesqued, and parodied, and we'll always have guys and gals do
it — for a price! And we don't blame 'em! SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
Abracadabra
Dear Joe,
I don't know about you, but the first goose pimples I got while
watching a vaude show was as a kid when a mysterious-looking
guy with a thin mustache and a little goatee, dressed in full eve-
ning clothes with a red ribbon across his white shirt front and a
couple of medals dangling from his chest, walked on stage with a
wand in one hand and made a pitch in a soft mysterious voice. I
ABRACADABRA 105
slunk down in my seat. I knew singing and dancing and acrobatics
and even musical-glass players, but here was a guy that to me was
like the genie in Aladdin's Lamp. He had me a bit frightened and
a bit curious when he took a live rabbit out of a hat! From that
day on I was interested in magic, and during our first season in
show biz we had the good fortune to work on a bill with Roland
Travers, a fine magician who produced not only rabbits, but geese
and ducks and pigeons. I wasn't frightened any more, but I still
was plenty curious. So between shows I'd fool around Travers'
paraphernalia, and in no time I released the gimmick and had
pigeons and ducks flying all over the place. And all Travers did was
laugh. I've always liked magic and magicians since that day, espe-
cially Roland Travers!
I don't believe there is any branch of show biz that has so many
outsiders interested in it as magic! When I say magic,, I cover
everything from producing a live rabbit to tricks with coins, cards,
illusions, escape artists, mind readers, shadowgraphists, hypnotists,
and even marionettes and ventriloquists.
There have been more books written on magic than on any other
subject in the theater. There are seven magic magazines with a
large circulation (for professional and working amateurs), and
thousands of magic books are sold every year. There are six big
magicians' societies with many branches. There are also thirty
dealers in magic supplies in the country and about twenty-five
builders of paraphernalia for professional magicians. I believe that
right now there are less than 200 real professional, full-time magi-
cians in all of America. But there are thousands of amateurs and
semipros who work clubs and local entertainments after they finish
with their bread-and-butter work. They seldom travel very far, as
they have to get home in time to go on their regular jobs. Amateur
magicians spend over half a million bucks a year on tricks for their
own amusement. They are what me and Aggie call "life-of-the-
party" guys. And many of them are really good. The late Fulton
Oursler was a great amateur magician, as is Drake V. Smith, the
advertising man, and Julius Proscauer, the attorney, Meyer Silver-
stein, the textile king, and J. Robert Rubin, the MGM attorney.
There is very little work on the stage for magicians today. The
coin, card, and close-up workers can't play large stages and audi-
toriums, and the illusionists, who carry big loads of paraphernalia,
can't afford present transportation costs, charges for extra stage-
Lefty's Letters los
hands, etc. So club work is very welcome and now provides the
greater part of the magician's income. A few work night clubs and
do very well. Some bars have magicians to keep the customers
interested; they get parties together and boost the bar bills. These
are mostly table workers who usually depend on tips.
Magicians will tell you that drunks and morons are hard to enter-
tain, and kids must have special tricks because they don't go for
misdirection! If you speak to the dean of magicians, Carl Rosini,
who has played every vaude theater in the world, he will tell you
that there is nothing new in magic, but just like gags, the old tricks
get new switches. Fred Keating, an old vaudevillian known for his
"disappearing canary" trick (not the first to do it but certainly the
best), once said there are three kinds of magicians, "Those who do
tricks, those who shoot at rem? and those who talk about Tem!"
The oldest trick is the ball and cups. Tricks most used in vaude
were those with cards, coins, rope, Chinese rings, silks, bowls of
rice, and bowls of water; taking the rabbit out of a hat was like a
time step to a hoofer.
There were about a half a dozen female magicians who were
really good. Mrs, Adele Herrmann (wife of the famous magician)
was one of the few that played big-time vaude. The Great Lala
Selbini bought the magic paraphernalia and illusions of the Great
Lafayette, but wasn't very successful with it. Mile. Talma (of Lc
Roy, Talma & Bosco) was really great doing six coin manipulations
at one time. Way back in 1898 Karnochi was a good lady magician.
(Even today there are only two really top lady magicians, Del
O'Dell and Lady Frances. But I'm not supposed to tell you about
today.)
There were only a few magic sensations that got the audiences
talking to themselves. The first was "esra," the levitation trick,
brought to this country by Sam Du Vries and shown at Hammer-
stein's. (Sam later became a big agent in Chicago.) Another sensa-
tion was Carclini and his cigarettes (copied by hundreds of acts),
and the biggest sensation in magic in our time was "sawing a
woman in half/' first shown here by Horace Golden (the trick
dates way back, but Golden, who sued everybody (never figuring he
would win), claimed that he was the originator and received tre-
mendous publicity—which was all he wanted. Remember all the
gags the comics pulled about it? "I sawed a woman in half; I got
the part that eatsl" "Who was that lady I sawed you with last
ABRACADABRA 107
night?" One guy advertised a brand-new novelty of the trick, "saw-
ing a Negro lady in half!" (Some switch, eh?) He called it Black
Magic.
The illusionists were looked up to by other magicians because
they carried lots of paraphernalia, scenery, and assistants. The un-
disputed champ of magicians for many years was Kellar. He worked
at Hammerstein's in 1902 with an ordinary magic act, but he soon
left vaude to put on a full magic show playing the combination
($1.50 top) houses in America and all over the world. He retired
after forty-seven years and handed the show over to Howard
Thurston, who was his assistant. I will never forget the great ova-
tion all the magicians gave him at the Hippodrome, New York,
when they brought Kellar on stage and threw roses all over the
stage. Howard Thurston carried on for many years in the tradition
of Kellar and was the leading magic show in America. Alexander
Herrmann also had a great show. Horace Golden was a top illu-
sionist for many years before he brought out his "sawing a woman
in half." Dante didn't play much vaude, but made a great name
for himself as a road attraction. Blackstone, a fine all-round magi-
cian, played vaude for many years, and then took out his own full
show and became tops. After retiring for a few years, he is again
on the road with his big magic show, and I would rate him the
greatest of the moderns!
The Great Lafayette did a terrific one-man show and played all
over the world. While playing the Palace, Edinburgh, Scotland, the
theater caught fire and Joe Coates (a midget), whom he used in
the show dressed as a teddy bear, and two other assistants were
burned to death. The firemen, thinking Coates was a real teclcly
bear, didn't bother saving him as they wanted to save humans first.
Carl Rosini is a vet of vaude that played all over the world, with
a command performance in England to his credit, and a command
performance for Joe Stalin in Russia to his discredit! Can you
imagine what would have happened to him if, while playing in
Russia, he had said no? He said yes and is now dean of the
magicians in America.
Rush Ling Toy, Fredrick Stevaro, and the Great Fredricks were
all fine illusionists in the 19005. Carter did "The Lion's Bride," an
illusion which the Great Lafayette did originally. The Du Boises,
De Biere, Reuschling, the Tomasons, and Roland Travers were all
great vaude illusionists.
Lefty's Letters
Bunth & Rudd way back in 1879 were one °* ^e origina^
comedy magic acts, and in 1880 Imro Fox was the first single
comedy magician; he was real funny and good and lasted as tops
way into the real Big Time. In 1899 there was only one Negro
magician, "The Great Gowongo." Me and Aggie can't remember
of ever working with or even seeing a Negro magician. Other great
comedy magic acts were Jarrow, famous for his lemon trick and his
very funny talk— he was the magician favorite at Hammerstein's;
Judson Cole, who did comedy talk and cards; Martini & Maximi-
lian (burly illusionists); Ziska & King; and Chinese Johnny
Williams, and, of course, Long Tack Sam.
But the greatest comedy magic act in vaude, that really had very
little magic, was Frank Van Hoven, the 'Mad Magician" (and
this guy was really mad). If you ever saw him getting his two
stooges to hold large cakes of real ice and trying to introduce them
to each other, you would have seen one of the greatest comedy
scenes of our times. Off stage he was just as crazy, and his prac-
tical jokes got him in many a jam. When he first started to work
for Gus Sun, he was canceled regularly and he very seldom finished
out an engagement. He didn't do his ice act then; just regular
magic (he didn't have enough dough to buy ice) . When he finally
came to New York and was a big hit, he would always talk about
his Gus Sun days in his ads in the trade papers. He would play one
free week in America; that was for a manager who didn't cancel
him when he played in his house in East St. Louis. He gave him
encouragement and even staked him to a few bucks to get out of
town. Two swell guys, Joe Erber and Van Hoven!
Among the great card men were Merlin, Si & Mary Stebbins,
who worked as rubes and did fine card tricks. The Great Albini
started out doing card stuff but later did practically nothing but
the very old "egg and bag" trick, which he became identified with;
I believe he did it the best. Cardini, a fine manipulator of cards
and a good all-round magician, became famous for his cigarette
trick; he was tops. Wallace Galvin did cards, and also balls and
rings; Salval was a comedy card shark; Claude Golden was a master
with cards; but I believe the tops of all the card workers was the
one and only Nate Leipsigl
The great artists among the coin men were Allan Shaw, Mile.
Talma, Floenzi, who did great palming, and who did the cigarette
stuff before Cardini, but never could do much with it. It was
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Cardini who developed it with his showmanship into the hit it
became. Welsh Miller and Manuel were both great coin men, but
the greatest of them all was Nelson Downs!
There were a number of very fine all-round magicians in vaude,
like the Great Leon, a vet who played everything in vaude. His
assistant was Jay Palmer, who later, as Palmer & Doreen, played all
over the world— a great comedy act, "The Magic Kettle." Gus
Fowler struck a new note by making hundreds of watches appear;
Johnnie & Nellie Olms also did this type act. There were Ten Ichi,
the originator of the water trick, the Great Asehi Troupe, who
made water come out of their finger tips, Ching Lee Foo, who
created a sensation on his first trip to the United States and also
on his return date in 1912, Henry Clive, a fine actor and one of
our great portrait painters, who as a magician in vaude presented
spirit paintings and the "wrestling cheese" (people tried to lift the
cheese but couldn't), and the Valdos, who did spirit stuff in
cabinets. Hong Ping Chien & Co. put sticks through their noses
(sensational). Fakir Raaon Bey did a magical act, but for exploita-
tion did the "buried alive" stunt. Atra defied a bullet fired from
a rifle right at his stomach. Sparrow featured eating dozens of
eggs. Maskelyn, an English magician, was very good, as was the
Frenchman, Les Marco Belli, Crane, the Irish magician, was a
vaude favorite for many years. Paul Valadon, an Englishman from
the Egyptian Hall, in London, did sleight-of-hand stuff and later
brought over the levitation trick and worked with Kellar. Mo-
hammed Kahn, a Hindu magician, and Carl Hertz, an old-timer
from Frisco, were both very good. Clement De Lion, a Dane, was
excellent doing billiard-ball stuff. The Okito Family were wonder-
ful (they came from five generations of magicians). Henri French
was very good. Zemlock & Co. did spirit stuff, like tipping the disk,
playing drums, moving tables, etc. J. Jerome Mora kept taking
birds and animals from his magic casket. Jupiter Bros, did what is
called "cabinet work," a la spiritualists, like producing flying tam-
bourines and fresh flowers. Rameses, an Englishman, did a re-
markable act with fresh flowers (changing them, etc,), Gilly-Gilly,
a table worker, made noises like a chicken and a small chick would
appear in his mouth— he used no hands. Henry E. Dixie, who was
one of our great legit stars, did many acts in vaude— sketches,
monologues, and also an expert magic act. Nora Bayes and Jack
Norworth did a magic number in their act that was a novelty,
Lefty's Letters "0
Norworth doing swell tricks while they were singing. (Jack is a
very fine amateur magician.)
Mind reading, or mental telepathy, is certainly a part of magic.
One of the greatest sensations to hit New York in the early igoos
were the mind readers; Anna Eva Fay was the greatest box-office
attraction, helped a great deal by the wonderful publicity and show-
manship of Willie Hammerstein. There was a family feud and the
wife of John T. Fay (who worked with the Fays) left the act and
did one called "The Fays Fazing the Fays/' which was an expose.
It got over for a short time, hut they went back to the regular mind-
reading act. It seemed that audiences didn't like to be disillusioned;
they would rather be fooled!
Great showmen among the mind readers in vaude were Dun-
ninger (who is still going strong on TV), Norman Frescott and
Babe Stanton (one of the best), Jovedah, and the Sharrocks, who
did a very good comedy act called "Behind the Grandstand/'
Mercedes with Mile. Stanton was a sensation in vaude for many
years; they even had the actors on the bills with them guessing how
they did it. Anyone in the audience would just whisper to Mercedes
the tune he wished Mile. Stanton to play on the stage and with-
out a word from him she would play it. Mercedes at times would
ask someone to just think of the tune he wished played — yop — she
would play it. (In the early 78os the "Modern Svengali" hypnotized
a woman who sat at the piano and played selections whispered to
him.) The Zancigs were popular in vaude, as were Harry & Frances
Usher. "The Girl with the 1000 Eyes" really cleaned up. There
were many more mental telepathists, mind readers, etc., who played
all the small time and cleaned up with their "love advice/' telling
where you could find your lost articles, what business you should
enter, etc., and also did private readings off stage. These were
strictly "mitt readers" or fortune tellers. It was a sweet racket while
it lasted, but only the real small-time manager would go for it. The
Big-Timers didn't have to resort to side dough, as they received
good salaries.
Another phase of magic is hypnotism! At one time vaude, espe-
cially small-time vaude, was just lousy with lousy hypnotists. The
act was presented as educational (?), but really was amusing, The
hypnotist would make a high-grade pitch, using words and medical
terms he didn't even understand himself, explaining what hypno-
tism was and what he was going to prove. They never referred to
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it as an "act/' but always billed it as a "scientific demonstration."
They would request a "committee" to assist with the experiments.
(By the way, these were among the first audience-participation
acts.) The committee had to be loaded with confederates, which
was tough on the small-time hyps who had to do four shows a day;
they couldn't use the same stooges because many of the audience
would stay for two shows and naturally would get wise if they saw
the same committee every show.
Out of the hundreds of hypnotists, most of them were real bad.
Pauline was the tops; he had a fine personality, spoke like an actor-
doctor, always referred to "this experiment, which I performed be-
fore the world's greatest scientists," and proceeded to draw blood
from the arm of a "subject" selected from the audience while the
"subject" was under the influence of hypnotism. "This I insist will
be a great boon to medicine, surgery, and mankind!" Then he
would make members of the committee go through various crazy
stunts, such as barking like a dog, acting like a strong man trying
to lift a i, ooopound weight (with nothing in his hands), making
like a rooster, etc. The pi&ce de resistaiice was hypnotizing a sub-
ject by putting hands in front of his eyes and saying the magic
word, "Rigid!" (which became a byword in vaude). The subject
would stiffen, then be laid across the tops of two chairs, and half-
a-dozen men would stand on the rigid body. In 1922 a hyp named
Vishnu, playing at the Empire Theatre in Kansas City, put a girl
to sleep on the stage by broadcasting from the local station a few
blocks away. She was placed in a local store window for twenty-four
hours, then taken back to the theater and brought out of the
hypnotic spell. This was also done many times without radio. A lot
of fun— for a while, and it died out just as quickly as it came in.
There were Polgar, Pelham (next best to Pauline), Prof. Theo
Pull, Harry Hyman, Powers, Ralph Slater, Ahrenmeyer, Banyan,
the Great Priscilla, Svengali, and a few others that were very good.
All these abracadabra guys were really great, because they were
always interesting. You went home wondering, "How did they
do it?"
And now to another phase of magic— "shadographists." There
were very few of these artists and it was a good novelty. Mr. and
Mrs. Gordon Wilde were among the pioneer shadowgraph acts in
big-time vaude. Others were Mr. and Mrs. Darrow, Maxwell
Holden, Frevoli (who also did magic) , Massian O'Connor, Marcou
Lefty's Letters H2
(one of the greatest), Stanley Gallini, and Chassino. The Halkings
did electrical shadowgraphs. Lola and Fay Durbyelle were the
only two women doing shadowgraphing.
Escape artists were also a part of magic. There were a number of
these with carnivals, circuses, and in small-time vaude, but only a
few stood out in the Big Time: Brindamour, the Vancos (who did
handcuff and trunk escapes), Haslam, a strait-jacket escape artist,
the Great Raymond, Hardeen (who was Houdini's brother), and
Hilda, the "Handcuff Queen" and strait-jacket escapist. But when
you add them all up, they couldn't even touch the handcuffs of one
of the greatest showmen of our times, Houdini!
A kid who started out as a trapeze artist, Houdini (nee Ernie
Weiss) became the world's best-known escape artist. Houdini once
told me and Aggie a story about the time he played Glasgow, Scot-
land. They advertised that he would do his famous escape from a
packing case, in which he was placed handcuffed and with feet
tied, the cover nailed down, and the box lowered into the river.
This was what Houdini used as a terrific publicity stunt for years;
he not only got big newspaper coverage with "pics, but thousands
of people gathered to watch him do this trick (it was for free) . So
you can imagine his surprise when he showed up on the bridge in
Glasgow to do this stunt and found that there were just a handful
of people there. He asked the manager if he was sure he had the
right date advertised. And the manager told him yes and showed
him copies of the papers and handbills. Houdini went through with
his escape (as a good showman would), and when he got back to
the theater he found out the reason why nobody showed up. It
was a toll bridgel
Houdini was the first dumb act that got a spot in the middle
of the bill (they usually opened or closed a show), and was the
first act of his type to be headlined. It wasn't what he did as much
as the way he did it. He would make the simplest trick look diffi-
cult. He was a great student of the art of magic and when he died
left a very valuable collection of books covering every phase of the
field. He devoted the latter years of his life to exposing fake
"mediums" and "spiritualists," offering $10,000 if they could show
him anything he couldn't duplicate. He died from a burst ap-
pendix, brought on by a punch in the stomach, He would allow
anybody to take a good punch at his stomach, claiming to have
ABRACADABRA 113
muscles that could resist any blow. The name "Houdini" was so
well known that "to do a Houdini" means to escape!
Ventriloquism is definitely a part of abracadabra. Many years
ago me and Aggie were on the bill with Arthur Prince, who was
really one of the great ventriloquists of vaude. He kinda took a
liking to us and after the show we'd "beer it up" and he would tell
us a lot about ventriloquism or, as we used to call 'em, "belly-
talkers/' He was a classy guy and spoke good English (maybe it
was because he was an Englishman), so naturally he had us at a
disadvantage.
Prince told us that years ago ventriloquism was used in connec-
tion with religious ceremonies instead of stage entertainment. The
priests of pagan tribes made noises come out of the idols and so
made plenty of wampum (or whatever they used for dough) out of
the savages. There is no such thing as voice throwing or what they
call "distant ventriloquism/' It's done by taking a deep breath and
then letting it escape slowly, the voice sounds being modified by
means of the upper part of the throat and the palate; the tighter
the throat is closed, the further away the sound seems to be. It is
then up to the vent to mislead the audience (like magicians do with
misdirection) as to the man "on the roof/' "under the ground/'
or "in the box." Remember how the old-time vents would say to
the dummy when he got too fresh, "I'll put you back in the trunk/'
or, "Jerry, keep saying hello as you come up from the cellar"?
Baron Mengen of Vienna was about the first to build a wooden
doll with movable lips; that was around 1750. But from the first,
the thing that interested people most was the "distant" voice. The
owner of the "second voice" was regarded with superstitious amaze-
ment. Many of 'em were burned for witchcraft.
Ed Reynard and A. O. Duncan were pioneers in American
ventriloquism. All the vents tried at first to put novelty in their
acts. Sam Watson had a "Barnyard Circus/' Paul Sandor's "Minia-
ture Cirque" used a circus for a background; Corarn, with his
Jerry, a crying doll, was one of the best. Cole Travis had walking
figures, barking dogs, chickens, etc.-— a very good act. Fred Russell
was the first to work the whole act with one figure, which he called
"Coster Joe"; they all copied working the figure on the knee from
him and also took many of his gags. Arthur Prince was not a good
voice thrower, but was marvelous when changing from one voice
to another; he was the highest-priced vent in vaude. Prince was also
lefty's Letters 114
the first to give his whole act in the form of a sketch with one
figure placed away from the body. Then there was W. E. Whittle,
who impersonated Teddy Roosevelt and talked with his dummy
about topics of the day. George W. Hussey did dialects, Jay W.
Winton had a laughing dummy, Walter & Emily Walters special-
ized in baby crying. John W. Cooper was the first Negro vent;
Frank Rogers, also a Negro, came later. Harry Kennedy, a good
vent, was also a song writer. Tom Edwards, from England, with his
"Father and Baby" act was very good. Johnson Clare with his
"tough kid" that he called Squire, Fred Howard, A. C. Astor, and
Carl Nobel were all good.
We had vents from all over the world in vaude. Richard Na-
dradge was Germany's best, George S. Lauder (Australia), worked
with five dummies, Alf Ripon and the Great Howard were from
Scotland, Les Freres Nad were a couple of French vents, and Carl
Nobel was Scandinavian.
Professor Davis and Trovollo were the creators of the mechan-
ical walking and talking figures. Trovollo in 1910 had an act, "Re-
incarnation/7 using a lion and chimp for dummies.
All the vents were trying hard to get away from the old-fashioned
way of just working with the dummy on the knee. Lieut. Walter
Cole worked with a group of figures called "Merry Folks." Ed
Reynard, with his "Morning in Hicksville," was ranked as the big-
gest and best vent production. W. H. Clement had the biggest
walking figure act; he had a soldier and nurse outfit with a baby
in a carriage. Lieutenant Noble was one of the first to bring out a
walking figure.
The Great Lester was first to do the distant voice clearly before
the mike was invented. He claimed to be the originator of drink-
ing while making a humming noise, but a playbill dated 1821
shows that Mons. Alexandre, the French vent, drank while talking
(and by the way, Alexandre was the founder of the Boston Public
Library and his name is in the library entrance). The Great Lester's
phone bit when he called up "Heaven" and "Hell" in search of
his sister was outstanding and long remembered; you could hear
when he lifted the phone off the hook, the busy signal, etc, His
dummy was named Frank Byron. He was also first to walk among
the audience with his lips tightly closed and his dummy whistling
a tune. A real great vent was the Great Lesterl
John W. Cooper's act was called "Fun in a Barber Shop." There
ABRACADABRA US
was a manicurist, a Negro head in the towel box and when a towel
was thrown in the head would pop out, man in chair getting
shaved, newsboy standing with papers in hand, customer reading
newspaper while waiting to be shaved, and a parrot on a perch.
Real novel and real good.
Lydia Dreams (whose real name was Walter Lambert, and who
came from England) was a female impersonator vent — but never
removed his wig and the audience believed it was a lady. He was
also a great portrait painter and made all of his figures and props.
Jay W. Winton had a dummy named McGinty and at the finish
of his act McGinty would climb up a rope. Jules Vernon, assisted
by his wife, was stricken with blindness while playing the Orpheum
in Spokane, Washington, in 1920. He kept on in the act with his
six figures and kept it a secret that he was blind. When the stand
on which the figures were mounted was moved onto the stage, there
was a black thread tied to the stand and to the wings, and when
Vernon entered he followed the black thread until he got to his
stand. Some of the figures were worked from the back of the head,
others with a pneumatic hose and foot treadle.
Frederick MacCabe was a famous English vent who played
American Big Time; he did not use figures but was a distant voice
exponent and a good one. George W. Harvel worked with two
Civil War soldiers, life-size, both one-legged and using crutches.
O. M. Mitchell (Orm McKnight) was said by nearly all vents to
be the best of the distant-voice vents. Johnny Woods, a Negro, had
a dummy do a restaurant eating act sitting at a table. Colby & Moy
were the first to introduce the dancing doll in a vent act.
Leo Bill, a Frenchman, did a very novel act. There was a statue
on the table and his wife entered with a feather duster and acci-
dentally struck the statue and its head fell apart. Bill entered,
found his wife all excited over the accident, and told her it was
O.K. and he would put on a new head. He built the head on his
fist and placed it on the broken statue and did his vent stuff a la
Senor Wences (many years before Wences, who I believe is to-
day's greatest) .
Another novel act was "Prelle's Ventriloquial Dogs." Charlie
Prelle, a German, had a bunch of dogs fitted with human masks
with movable mouths. The dogs were trained so that when he
spoke for a certain character, the mouth of that dog would move
as if talking. (So Francis, the talking mule, is new, eh?)
Lefty's Letters 11B
William Ebbs did a travesty on vents. In his first act he was
seated near a wicker lamp that had a large shade, with his midget
brother concealed in the lamp. The supposed dummy, Ebbs, ate an
apple and drank water while doing rapid-fire talk. Finally the light
was put out and the midget fell down from the lamp, showing up
the fake. In a later act he brought out the "dummy" in a suit case,
took him out in front of the audience, worked as a regular vent act
(of course with remarkable tricks because the midget did the talk-
ing), and put the dummy back in the valise for an exit. They gave
it away when taking bows. Felix Alder, Mike Donlin & Tom Lewis,
Dody*& Lewis, Fred Allen, and many more, all did a burly vent
bit using a live dummy.
Carl Nobel of Copenhagen had a remarkable act. A woman
hobbled out with Carl on her back and a Frenchman on his, and
beneath her heavy burden sang in a harsh voice, while Nobel also
sang and the Frenchman on his back nodded and leered approv-
ingly. The act looked like there were three living persons one on
top of another, while it really was only one living person and two
dummies. He made the figures and mechanism himself.
There were some clever female vents. Ella Morris was the first.
Grace De Winters was a very clever vent and impersonator. Miss
De Bussey had an act with soldier and boy figures. Winona Winter
(daughter of the famous Banks Winter, the song writer) worked
with one figure, telling funny stories and giving a good impersona-
tion of Trovollo (another great vent). There was also Maude Ed-
wards (sister of Tom), Hilda Hawthorne (one of the best), Mabel
Johnson, who use a "highly cultured" Boston dummy, Kaye Var-
roll, Mabel Hudson, Emily Walters, Bessie Gaby, and Grace
Wallace. Some used to work with male partners; others joined
partners after doing a single.
Marshall Montgomery started as a musical act, gave an imita-
tion of George M. Cohan, played comedy piano and some freak
instruments, and was champ harmonica player, defeating the Euro-
pean champ, Jim Gouge (all this before he became a vent). He
presented his vent act in sketch form (as did Arthur Prince), but
it was absolutely no copy. Montgomery was one of the top head-
line vent acts on the Big Time for many years and was considered
to be in a class by himself. Frank Gaby came a lot later, but was a
very big hit and just beginning to click when he died, a young
man who would have had a great future.
ABRACADABRA
Edgar Bergen was the first vent to appear on radio and TV and
in pictures. When he was in vaude he got away from the usual
slapstick old-fashioned material that other vents were using. Al-
though Edgar has often said that when working his "mouth swings
like a gate/' his manipulation of Charlie McCarthy is really expert
stuff and he has the superb timing of a Jack Benny (which is good
enough for anybody) . Edgar Bergen has made more money in the
art of ventriloquism than any other vent past or present.
There is an International Brotherhood of Ventriloquists, of
which W. S. Berger is the president. If you are ever around Fort
Mitchell, Kentucky, be sure and drop in and let him show you a
large room in his home filled with the dummies used by famous
vents. He calls it the "Vent Home," a very odd and interesting
hobby.
Marionettes are one of the oldest forms of entertainment and
belong also in the field of magic. They were used in the Holy Plays
hundreds of years ago, long before stage plays. Of course Punch
and Judy (hand puppets), with Punch slapsticking Judy and the
Devil, goes way back. We had some real swell marionette acts in
vaude. There were the Don Carlos Marionettes, John & Louisa
Till, D'Arc's Marionettes (who gave imitations of famous stars),
Rhoade's Marionettes, who had a "drunk" that was bounced by a
cop between acts, LeRoy Marionetttes, Holden's Manikins, the
Wallace Puppets, Petty's Puppets, Mantell's Mechanical Marion-
ettes, Salaci Marionettes (great), La Petite Cabarette, which did
an entire night-club show, Manikin Music Hall, and the greatest
of 'em all, Mme. Jewel's Marionettes, a stage on a stage, with the
marionettes giving a complete vaude show.
These were all a part of the Magic Family and they all con-
tributed their share for the upkeep of Lady Vaudeville! SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
Lefty's Letters
Attraction!
Dear Joe,
I believe that almost all the champs and near champs in every
branch of sports appeared at one time or another in vaude or burly!
In a way these were "freak acts"; very few delivered entertainment
and they were just used while they were making newspaper head-
lines to sort of goose up the box office. Some were good for a twirl
around the circuit, some good only in large cities, and many were
played locally.
The old melodramas used fighters and wrestlers as stars, not be-
cause of their acting ability but for their box-office draw. John L.
Sullivan, Bob Fitzsimmons, Jim Corbett, Terry McGovern, Jack
Dempsey, Sandow, and even Ty Cobb (who played the lead in the
road show of The College Widow) are a few who starred in shows.
Jim Corbett was about the only one who could really act. He proved
that in Cashel Byron's Profession at Daly's Theatre on Broadway
in 1906. Burly shows used athletes as special attractions long be-
fore vaude did; there were very few burly shows that didn't have
some sports celebrity as box-office bait!
Of all the kinds of athletes in vaude, there were more fighters
than anything else; baseball players ran second. Willie Hammer-
stein played more champ athletes than any other theater manager,
The clientele at Hammerstein's was 75 per cent from the sporting
element of New York and naturally jammed the place to see a
winner. The old gag around Broadway was that when someone won
an athletic event, his manager would say to him, "Hurry up and
take a shower and put on your clothes. You are booked at Hammer-
stein's!"
Mike Donlin, the great outfielder of the New York Giants, was
kinda led into vaude through his marriage to Mabel Hite (a great
soubrette), and they continued doing an act together when Mike
left baseball until Mabel Hite was "booked out of town/' Here is
a story about them that had Broadway talking for many a clay.
When Mabel died, she was cremated, and her ashes were placed
in an urn at a certain well-known undertaking establishment in
SPECIAL ATTRACTION! 119
New York. After a few years a package was sent to Murray's
Restaurant on West Forty-second Street by mistake. At that time
there was a bomb scare, and when the package was delivered some-
one got suspicious and called the police, who promptly soaked the
"bomb" in water. When they opened it they found the urn con-
taining the ashes. (Mike sued for plenty.)
Although many used vaude and burly to grab off some easy
dough once in a while, there was one champ who made show biz
his profession when he hung up his gloves: that was James J. Cor-
bett. (Slapsie Maxie, Max Baer, and the others came much later.)
Gentleman Jim became a fine monologist, a great straight man, and
a good actor, and remained in show biz until he had to quit be-
cause of ill health.
In the Warner Bros, picture of Gentleman Jim, they had him as
a member of the famous Olympic Club in San Francisco. The
truth was that he was Walter Watson's assistant. Watson taught
him all he knew about boxing. Jim became amateur champ of
Frisco and later was made an honorary member of the Olympic
Club. At a benefit given for Jim at the Grand Opera House in
Frisco, he boxed John L. Sullivan (world's heavyweight champ)
three exhibition rounds. They stripped to the waist and boxed with
their "dress" pants and shoes on. It was after this exhibition that
Corbett turned to a friend and said, "I can lick John L. anytime
I want to." He wasn't bragging; he just knew he could do it. A
few years later he did do it and became the World Heavyweight
Champion. (He knocked out John L. in the twenty-first round.)
Jim Corbett/s monologue was a classic. He had an easy delivery,
a fine appearance, and a delightful sense of humor, which is a
pretty nice parky in show biz. He had a poor memory on names,
forgetting even those of his best friends. To cover this failing he
would call everybody "kid," even if the guy had a long beard.
One day at breakfast at the Friars Club, he greeted those around
him by their first names. I turned to Bert Hanlon in surprise and
said, "Hey, what happened to Jim? He's remembering all our
names." And Bert said, "He is just getting over the Fitzsimmons
fight" (which happened in 1895). After giving his regular "Hello,
kid" to a stranger, he would follow it up with "How's the folks?"
I once asked him why he said that when he didn't know the guy,
much less his folks? Jim said, "Listen, kid, everybody has folks!"
He was an ice-cream fiend, as was his friend and neighbor Fred
Lefty's Letters 12°
Hillebrand (the song writer and comedian), and during his illness
Fred would drive him from Bayside to the Biltmore Hotel in
New York for a dish of his favorite pistachio ice cream.
There is just one more story I'd like to tell you about my old
friend Jim. When the late Flo Ziegfeld managed Sandow (the
famous strong man), they issued a challenge to Jim, with a big
side bet, if Jim would meet Sandow, Jim to box and Sandow to
wrestle and winner take all. (The first challenge of its kind, but
it has been used plenty of times since then.) It caused a lot of
controversy at the time and of course got plenty of newspaper
space. "Could a great fighter lick a great wrestler and strong man?"
One night Jim was sitting in a restaurant in Frisco with some of
his friends, including Frank Belcher, the great basso (who was in
Jiin7s show at the time and who told me this story), Professor Bill
Clark, "Bud" Woodthrope (Jim's secretary), manager Ollie Hagan,
and the sporting editor of the Frisco Chronicle (whose name
escapes me), when in walked Sandow and Ziegfeld. There was a
tense moment, as the papers were playing up the "angry" angles
between the two. But Jim invited them to his table for a drink.
Corbett and Sandow got to talking about their respective rackets,
Sandow of course speaking about wrestling and feats of strength
and Jim about fighting and boxing. "I can't hold horses on my
chest like you do, Sandow; mine is a different game," said Jim.
And Sandow replied, "With all my strength I don't think I can
punch as hard as you, Jim." Sandow was pleased with Jim's gentle-
manly manners and they finished up friends. I personally think the
"bad feeling" was all press stuff dreamed up by Ziggy; in fact I
believe that he even rigged up the meeting in the restaurant.
Maybe me and Aggie are wrong about it, but weVe been in show
biz a long time and even stopped believing our own press notices!
Anyway there was no match.
Among the great fighters to play vaude was John L. Sullivan
(we played on the Loew Circuit with him). He did a prohibition
talk. (When their livers can't take it any more, they turn prohibi-
tionist.) He was a kindly old gentleman, good company, but I cer-
tainly would love to have met him in his prime when he would
clean out a barroom of its beer and customers at the drop of a
remark. We also played with Bob Fitzsimmons when he did an act
with his beautiful wife, Julia May Gifford, and later when he
played the Pantages Time and we were playing the Orpheum
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Circuit (bragging); we both played the same towns. In his act he
introduced his son as the future "white-hope champ" (always got
big applause on that announcement), but it was wasted because
the son didn't inherit his father's punch; all he had was his father's
gloves!
We also worked in the same towns with Jim Jeffries and Tom
Sharkey when they made their tour for Loew. All show folks would
meet after the show at night. Big Jim Jeffries told us about the time
back in 1899 when he, Tom Sharkey, and Jim Corbett played in a
burlesque skit called "Round New York in Eighty Minutes," at
Koster and Bial's. When I told Tom Sharkey that I sold papers
outside of his saloon (it was a joint) on East Fourteenth Street
when I was a kid, he checked me about the rest of the street and
was surprised that I knew every spot on the block, from the Unique
Theatre (a penny arcade with two acts, that was east of his place)
to the Dewey and Luchow's. (The Dewey is where William Fox
really started—so did we. Luchow's was and is one of the most
famous of New York restaurants.) By the way, the sailors that
came out of Sharkey's gave us kids a nickel for a paper and the
rich guys that came out of Luchow's only gave us the regular price,
one cent! Maybe the sailors were drunk; anyway, we kids figured
that sailors had more dough than millionaires!
The easiest way to name all the fighters that were in vaude is to
take my friend Nate Fleisher's Ring Record or my friend Spink's
Sporting News and say that 95 per cent of the guys they have men-
tioned played vaude. Not even excluding my friends Jack Dempsey
and Jirn Corbett, I don't think any fighter was better liked on
Broadway than Johnny Dundee, who worked in vaude with his old
pal Jimmy Hussey. I believe that he knows more vaude actors than
anybody on Broadway. Jack Johnson, who headlined at Hammer-
stein's when he was a champ, ended his career just about 50 feet
across the street at Hubert's Museum, doing twenty shows a day
with a five-cent admission! Jack Dempsey & Co., in "Roadside
Razz," written by his old friend Willard Mack, broke records in
vaude. He did $41,000 at Loew's State (beating the best previous
record by $12,000). Gene Tunney, who, by the way, broke in his
act on the Gus Sun Time (as did Dempsey), was billed as "A
Chap America Is Proud Of." Young Stribling came from a vaude
family who did an acrobatic act, "The Four Novelty Grahams,"
which consisted of mother, dad, George, and another kid. Kid
Lefty's Letters 122
McCoy, a terrific character in and out of the ring, started the
no-hat craze, claiming it helped grow hair, and almost ruined the
hat biz and the hat-check rooms. Philadelphia Jack O'Brien, an-
other Broadway character, ran a gym for chorus gals. Harry Greb
showed me the night life of Pittsburgh, the night before he fought
Jimmy Delaney. We got to bed at 10 A.M., and that night he licked
Delaney. (What a man!) Mickey Walker, who was a great artist
in the ring and has now become a real fine artist on canvas (with-
out taking the count), was a great idol of show biz. Mike "Twin"
Sullivan, a great Boston favorite, would play the old Howard when-
ever they had a disappointment. Joe Cans, one of the greatest, met
and was admired by many show folks when he was working at
Kernan's Hotel, in Baltimore, at the oyster bar. Tony Canzoneri,
one of our great champs, did his first act at Proctor's Fifth Avenue,
and later became a great attraction with Joey Adams and Phil
Plant in a night-club act. Jimmy Britt, who was known among
actors as the handsomest fighter in tights (he had a swell pair of
gams) became a pretty good monologist at the Empress Theatre,
Frisco, way back in 1911.
Abe Attell, who was one of the first fighters to do a monologue,
and a good one, talked about Kid Broad. He later did a double
with Goff Phillips (a fine blackface comic). He also did an act
with Leach Cross called "A Business Proposition." Speaking about
Leach Cross (a dentist who put in the teeth he knocked out) , he did
an act in vaude where his brother, Sam Wallach, announced while
he showed how he exercised. When asked what he thought about
vaude he said, "In the theaters it's the same as when I fight: I pack
the house with people who come to see me lose." Johnny Coulon,
the bantam champ, did an act in vaude for many years (i la Annie
Abbott) where he would defy anyone to lift him off the stage.
Phil Bernstein and Kid Griff o (two well-known local fighters) did
a real big fight act for one week at Proctor's izjth Street. I did
the candy butcher for no dough, just to be able to see the act.
They really had a great "fake" boxing act for vaude— but weren't
known outside of New York. Benny Leonard was the most stage-
struck fighter in show biz. He could tell very good stories and
worked in vaude many times, once with Benny Rubin (a fine
comic), another time with Herman Tirnberg (who was a top Hebe
comic in "School Days") and also lost some money in a show he
went out in. I know of no nicer guy, greater fighter, or better
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referee and friend— one of the great favorites of vaudevillians.
Jim Jeffries in 1909 was getting $3,000 a week at the Wigwam
in Frisco. When he was training for the Johnson fight, he had a
lot of vaude actors in his camp to keep him in good humor. Eddie
Leonard and Walter C. Kelly (The Virginia Judge) stuck until
he was counted out. He had a lot of show biz friends.
I just must mention a few more of the tops who played vaude.
Jess Willard got $4,000 a week at Hammerstein's in 1915. Funny,
he was a big disappointment as a drawing power, while at the
Palace a style show was packing 'em in! Primo Camera had shoes
displayed in store windows with signs saying, "These are Primo
Camera's shoes." They were about size 50 and would fit Jack the
Giant Killer— a phoney, but good showmanship (wish I knew the
name of the guy that thought it up). There were Max Baer,
Georges Carpentier, Stanley Ketchell, Jack Britton, Barney Ross
(a great Broadway favorite), Midget Wolgast, Honey Melody, and
not forgetting Slapsie Maxie Rosenbloom, who is sticking in all
branches of show biz and is called "Erudite Maxie," a character
who will be written up in years to come.
Show biz had some pretty good fighters who were smart enough
to quit before their profiles were mashed up. Maurice Barrymore,
the father of the talented trio, was originally a fighter; George
Fuller Golden, the father of the White Rats and a great monolo-
gist, started out as a fighter; so did Bobby Gaylor, who was light-
weight champ of Montana and Colorado; Pat Rooney, Sr., wanted
to fight, but ended up as one of our great Irish comic song-and-
dance men!
To go back a little bit, I want to tell you about Jack Burke, who
with William McVoy did an act in 1897 called "Fun in a Gym-
nasium/' Burke fought the longest battle on record with Andy
Nowman, a mulatto, down in New Orleans. They fought no
rounds lasting seven hours and twenty minutes; they could not
continue and the referee called it no contest! Any one of the
rounds would have made a modern fight. In 1908 Hammerstein's
featured the Gans-Nelson fight pics. The fight ran twenty-one
rounds, but Willie cut it to twelve for running time (first time
anybody cut a fight pic) . Jim Jeffries was the referee. Hanimerstein
had John P. Dunn, the referee and matchmaker of the Coney
Island Club, explain the fight to the audience.
Another odd fight act was about 1906 when B. H. Benton
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(known as Rob Roy) did a monologue on his thirty-five years of
experience with champs of the ring. He worked in the vaude section
of the old Howard shows in Boston. He reproduced scenes of the
gym in the old Cribb Club, and had favorite Boston fighters like
Matty Baldwin, Jimmy Briggs, Joe Lannon, etc., appear with him.
France sent over an odd fighting act, Louis Ducasse and George
Jeannoit, who did an act at Hammerstein's called "La Savette";
it was French-style boxing with feet— hit and step away. Joe
Humphries did the announcing.
In 1926 there was Joop Leit, a Dutch boxer, who when he
knocked out an opponent sang a hunk of grand opera. He went
into vaude and was met by laughter at the Alhambra, but he
didn't care, he kept on singing "Pagliacci." He played a week in
London.
This I guess will give you an idea of the many boxers that played
let's say a box-office part in vaude, and some even entertained.
They were great guys to work with, because they thought they were
great on the stage and we thought they were great off the stage.
Fm not afraid of the many champs7 and near champs7 names that
I left out, because by now they've lost their punch.
Many fighters took a few socks at vaude and usually were
knocked back into the ring. So now let me tell you about the
next greatest off-seasonal athletic industry in vaude, baseball!
After the last game of the baseball season, all the topnotchers
in the baseball world would take a crack at batting out a few vaude-
ville fongos, and would stay just long enough to be struck out!
Hammerstein's was the baseball players' home plate! Most of
them had to have acts built around them, full of regular vaude
talent, to get 'em over. There were only a few who had talent.
Some did monologues, some told about great plays and "inside
stuff" of the big games they had been in, some danced, some did
imitations, but most of them sang!
It was a natural for ball players to sing, because during training
periods and before and after games they would get together and
do a bit of "Sweet Adelining" in the clubhouse or on the hotel
porch. They did this not only for their own amusement but with
vaude dates in mind. There was big dough in show biz for pennant
winners or those who stood out in a series or a season.
Mike Donlin and Mabel Hite were one of the first real baseball
acts (Mabel Hite had a standard act as a great singing comedienne
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long before she married Mike). They had a number of acts in
vaude. "Stealing Home" (in 1908, I think) was really a great act
besides being a drawing card. In 1912 Mike did an act with the
great comedian, Tom Lewis, who was the originator of the famous
expression, "Twenty-three" (to which they later added "Skiddoo";
it was not in the original George M. Cohan show, Little Johnny
Jones) . They finished with Tom Lewis on Mike's lap acting as a
vent dummy and Mike doing the ventriloquist. He also did an act
with Marty McHale, which proves that the guy made vaude his
biz after his baseball career was over. Mike finally went to Holly-
wood and did bits in pics until he couldn't make home plate
any more.
Charles Dooin (Philly National catcher) did songs and in 1910
did a singing and talking act in Dumont's Minstrels in Philly. Joe
Tinker, the famous short-stop, started doing a monologue, and
then did a skit, "A Great Catch," in an act with Sadie Sherman.
Johnny Kling (catcher) did a monologue and a champ billiard
exhibition act. The great Christy Mathewson and Chief Meyers
(pitcher and catcher of the famous New York Giants) did a skit
with May Tulley written for them by the famous sports writer,
Bozeman Bulger, called "Curves."
In 1911 Rube Marquard made his vaude debut at Hammer-
stein's, with Annie Kent. In 1912 he did an act with Blossom
Seeley (then a headliner in her own right) in a skit, "Breaking the
Record." They did the Marquard glide. I remember in this act he
said to the audience, "You wished it on yourselves, so I got nerve
enough to sing it alone" (and did it very well). Another act of
theirs was "Nineteen Straight." In 1913 they did an act called
"The Suffragette Pitcher," in which Blossom made Rube change
into a dame's dress to pitch for her all-woman team. In 1917 Rube
did a singing and talking act with Billy Dooley of the famous
Dooley family.
John J. McGraw did a monologue on "Inside Baseball," and did
very well, but didn't go for a vaude route, figuring he would have
more fun at the Lambs. That same year (1912) there was the
Boston Red Sox Quartette, with Marty Hale, Tom "Buck"
O'Brien, Hugh Bradley, and Bill Lyons. Another quartette that
year was Bill Gleason, George Crable, Tom Dillon, and Frank
Browning in "Twenty Minutes in the Club House." Hugh Jen-
nings did an act with Ben Smith (a vet blackface comic) .
Lefty's Letters 126
Capt. Adrian C. "Pop" Anson, the dean of baseball, went into
vaude about 1913 and did a monologue, finishing up with a short
dance. He liked vaude, because he came back in 1921 with his two
beautiful daughters in a skit written for them by Ring Lardner
with songs by Herman Timberg. George Stallings, the "miracle
man of baseball/' also did a monologue. Hank Gowdy and Dick
Rudolph did a singing and talking act. I was at the party they gave
Hank Gowdy up in Boston when he went into service in World
War I. He was the first baseball player to enlist— a great guy.
There was a fellow by the name of George L. Moreland who
billed his act "Baseballology"; he answered all questions about
baseball from as far back as 1846. He showed stills of early base-
ball players, etc. He knew all the answers.
Wait Hoyt was practically raised in show biz, as his dad was
an old-time minstrel man. In 1921 Wait went on the stage with a
singing act; he had a very nice voice, About seven years later he
took another vaude plunge (after his season), and had a gal play-
ing the piano for him who didn't do so bad for herself in show
biz since then; her name is Hildegarde! She also played for Mickey
Cochrane, and when she left him the noted composer Freddy Coots
played for Mickey (they did a swell act). In 1921 Babe Ruth did
an act with Wellington Cross (Cross & Josephine), a fine artist;
they had Cliff Dean at the piano. It's a funny thing about the
Babe in vaude. When he was at his height in baseball and was
getting a big salary in vaude, he didn't prove to be a drawing card,
while Jack Dempsey was breaking all records. Showmen explained
this by saying that people could see Babe Ruth any time for a
quarter or 50 cents, while it took at least three bucks to see
Dempsey when he was fighting I They sold Irving Berlin's song,
"Along Came Ruth/' in the lobby of the Pantages houses when
the Babe played them.
Vernon "Lefty" Gomez did a very funny monologue. In 1932
Al Mamiux (the Newark team manager) did a very good singing
and talking act. A few years later, in his next time at bat in vaude,
he had Jimmy Rule at the piano. There was an interclub quartette
about 1925: George Crable (Brooklyn), Tom Dillon (Macon),
Frank Browning (Detroit), and Billy Gleason (Galveston). My
old friend Rabbit Maranville did an act with Eddy McHugh and
he was as good on the stage as he was on the diamond. Coornbsr
Morgan, and Bender, world series pitching heroes of the champ
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Athletics, did a skit assisted by Kathryn & Violet Pearl. Later
Kathryn Pearl did an act with Chief Bender called "Learning the
Game," by George Totten Smith with music by Arthur Behim.
Ty Cobb, Germany Schaffer, and Joe Tinker were all in vaude
about 1911. Mike "King" Kelly did a monologue; he also was with
Mark Murphy in "O'Dowd's Neighbors." Me and Aggie will never
forget the time we played in Jersey City with Ford Frick; he was
then a local radio sportscaster and sports writer and was very popu-
lar locally. He did something like his broadcast for his act, but
wanted some laughs to kinda lighten it up a bit. I gave him some
gags (the wrong ones, because he got laughs with them; we should
have kept them for ourselves in Jersey). Anyway, Ford didn't do
bad, leaving vaude to become the czar of organized baseball. He
is a swell guy in or out of vaude. We say he was a smart guy even
back in those days; he knew vaude wouldn't last!
Many of the ball players who played vaude became sports-
casters when radio got going, players like Bump Hadley (Yankee
pitcher), Elbie Fletcher (Braves first baseman), Wait Hoyt,
Frankie Frisch, Harry Heilman (great hitter), Gabby Street,
Charles Gehringer (Hall of Fame guy), Fred Haney, and of course
one of the greats, Dizzy Dean (who played the Roxy with his
brother) . And talking about sportscasters, we had Harry Howell,
the curve-ball pitcher of the St. Louis Browns, explaining the movie
of the Chicago-Detroit series in 1908.
And did you know that B. S. Muckenfuss, who is the owner of
the great Inter-State Circuit with vaude theaters all through Texas
and who played all the greats in vaude, was once the secretary of
the St. Louis Cardinals? He followed E. F. Carruthers as general
manager of Inter-State, and now owns it.
But I think the most remarkable man in baseball, as far as show-
manship goes, is my pal Al Schacht, the "Clown Prince of Base-
ball/7 The guy belongs here because he played in vaude with his
partner Nick Altrock (they were the originators of baseball clown-
ing) . In their act they did a lot of comedy bits and Al did what
he calls the pi£ce de resistance, his imitation of Eddie Leonard
singing "Roley Boley Eyes/' which started the decline of vaude, The
reason I say he belongs in a show biz story is that he has played
to more people personally than anybody in or out of show biz!
Sounds fantastic, but it's true. I am not counting the guys who
appear on radio or TV, but personal appearances. Here is his
Lefty's Letters 12*
record; figure it out for yourself. Al Schacht worked in baseball
from 1910 to 1936 as a pitcher and coach and did clowning for
the crowds on the side. He also appeared in twenty-seven world
series and in twelve All-Star games. He has done his clown act all
over the country every summer from 1937 to now. He did over
300,000 miles playing for our troops in Korea, New Guinea, East
Indies, Philippines, Japan, Germany, Austria, Alaska, France, Ice-
land, etc., doing 790 shows and playing in 310 hospitals. Figure it
out and tell me anyone that ever played to more people! And now
as a restaurateur he even plays to crowds in his restaurant. A great
clown and a great guy!
There were a lot of vaude actors who were great baseball fans,
It was the favorite sport of the actors, and many vaude road units
had baseball teams which would play the stagehands of the towns
(and get beat) . Nearly all the big Broadway shows had teams rep-
resenting them, and would sneak in a ringer pitcher, usually Sammy
Smith, a song publisher who pitched in the big leagues, or Jack
Conway, critic on Variety. I remember when the National Variety
Artists were trying to get a team together to try and beat the Cohan
& Harris team. The manager asked an acrobat, "Will you play
third base?" and the acrobat said, "How big a jump is it?"
Yep, there were a lot of ball players in vaude; some hit home
runs, and others went to the showers — followed by vaudeville!
There were a lot of professional athletes in vaude besides fighters
and ball players. There were wrestlers who played many a catclvas-
catch-can date in vaude. Again Hammerstein's was the main mat
for the grunt artists. Wrestling in those days was a lot different
than it is today. Nobody sang about it being a fake. Everybody
took the championship bouts as seriously as championship fights.
It received big newspaper coverage, and so was duck soup for cer-
tain theaters, like Hammerstein's (and of course burly houses), A
wrestling champ was a national figure. I'm talking about the days
of George Bothner, Hackenschmidt, Frank Gotch, Strangler Lewis,
and a few others. In 1908 Frank Gotch did a skit with Emil Klank
called "All About a Bout"; they didn't have to talk much (thank
God) ! Hitachuyma did Jap wrestling, and there was the Royal
Jiujitsu Troupe and the Tomita Jiujitsu Troupe and Miyakee, who
demonstrated jiujitsu, that started the craze in America. To prove
that all Japs weren't tiny, they sent Sumo, giant Jap wrestler who
was over six and a half feet and weighed about 300 pounds. There
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was Job Josefsson's Icelandic Troupe, who showed the secret sports
of Iceland (why they were secret I don't know), gilma, self-defense
fighting, and wrestling with the feet. These attractions were bally-
hooed and weie box-office, especially at Hammerstein's. They were
novel and interesting, but they usually ended up in a burly show,
because there wasn't enough interest in vaude except for "spot"
bookings.
There were novelty wrestling attractions that became standard
vaude acts, like the Bennett Sisters (not the Hollywood Bennetts) .
In 1908 May Harris, a female wrestler, appeared at Hammerstein's,
and a few years before that a Female International Wiestling
Troupe disbanded because of the death of one of the members;
eleven went back to Europe. As a showwoman Cora Livingston
was the greatest of 'em all. (So you thought those woman wrestlers
on TV were new, eh?) I believe that Hackenschmidt and Stiangler
Lewis were the best wrestling box-office attractions.
Golfers didn't overlook hitting the vaudeville green. It was a
hard act to put over, because the average audience didn't know
much about the game, no more than they knew about polo. They
admired the skill of the artist, realizing it must be hard to do, but
didn't go applause-crazy about it. The only way vaude could enjoy
this type act was with comedy. So nearly all of the golfers (trick-
shot experts) used a stooge, usually the comic on the bill (who got
paid off in golf lessons). Alec Morrison was the first golf act. His
comedy partner was Flanagan (of Flanagan & Edwards). Jack
Redmond, Jack Kirkwood, Paul Jacobson, Gene Sarazen, and John
Farrell stuck on the fairway of vaude pretty well. They all used the
trick shots, shooting balls from a watch, etc., and the comedy was
shooting the ball from the mouth of a very frightened comedian.
Most of these champs were booked because someone in the book-
ing office wanted to learn how to improve his game. We had some
pretty good golfers in vaude; Charles Leonard Fletcher was the
first actor to take up the game seriously, and Fred Astaire played
it when he was a kid. The golf acts became more popular in the
later days of vaude— but then it was too late!
Because of the tremendous publicity which reacted favorably at
the till, the marathon winners drew big audiences. Again Hammer-
stein's was the finishing line. John J. Hayes, winner of the mara-
thon, played a few weeks later at Hammerstein's. He opened his
act showing pictures of himself winning the race, and then came on
Lefty's Letters l*®
for a bow. Dorando, who beat Hayes in 1908, was a sensational
draw through great publicity and a tremendous Italian following;
they even wrote a song about him. He appeared with his brother
(who was his trainer) at Hammers tein's, and Loney Haskell, acting
as M.C., introduced them to the audience. They both came out
dressed in old-style European street clothes that needed pressing;
the tight pants had "apples" in the knees and they really looked
very funny by Broadway standards. Loney told the audience how
Dorando won, how he trained, what he ate, etc., while Dorando
and his brother just stood there. Finally at the finish of the spiel
he asked the audience were there any questions? Ren Shields, a
wit and a Hammerstein habitue, yelled out, "Yes, ask him who
made his brother's clothes?" It broke up the opening matinee.
Every six-day bicycle-race winner played Hammerstein's. Elkes &
McFarland, Walthour & McEachern, Leaner & Krebs, Root & Dor-
Ion, Root & Fogler, Rutt & Stoll, Rutt & Clark, Goulette & Fogler,
McNarnarra, and many more runners-up. They all did about the
same act, riding treadmills on either side of the stage for a mile
race with clocks showing how they were doing, and of course in the
last quarter they'd make it real exciting, like a sprint, dividing the
"wins" for the week between them. Good thrill and good show-
manship. These acts were only a draw the week following their win
at Madison Square Garden.
Even tennis was represented in vaude, by Big Bill Tilden with a
monologue. It was a good thing that after his act he didn't have to
jump over a net and congratulate the audience for winning, if you
know what I mean. Tennis those days was as strange to vaude audi-
ences as was football. Someone once asked why football players
didn't go into vaude? And Tommy Gray, a writer and wit, said,
"By the time their injuries are healed, the vaude season is over."
Those were the days when the starting team members stayed in the
game until they were carried off. I am not sure, but the only real
great football player I recall playing in vaude was Red Grange, who
played a sketch called "Number 77" (which was his number). He
was a big box-office attraction. He played in one game in California
on percentage, and received $67,000 as his share.
There were also a few jockeys who played vaude; yop, the starting
gate was at Hammerstein's. Tod Sloan, one of the greatest jockeys
of his time, did a monologue written for him by George M. Cohan
(who later wrote Little Johnny Jones, which was practically the
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story of Tod Sloan.) Tod had a sister, Blanche Sloan, who did an
aerial act and received a lot of publicity because of her brother, but
made good on her own and became a standard act for many years
after Tod was gone. Garrison, who used to finish races with a fast
finish (from which we got the expression, "a Garrison finish") did
an act for a short time. Tommy Meade, a good boy on or off a horse,
had a fine voice and was in vaude for a long time, working with
different partners. There was a good jockey by the name of Tony
Francisco who was a hound for the Charleston and played a few
weeks doing it in front of a jazz band, which played him right back
to the starting gate at the track.
It was 1926 when the Channel swimmers started their free-style
crawl into vaudel The first of the women channel swimmers was
Gertrude Ederle, and she cleaned up as to money and playing
time, receiving $100,000 for twenty weeks. The second woman to
do it was Mrs. Mille Gade Corson; she did pretty good, but being
second cut her earnings in half; then Ernest Vierkotte and many
others did it, and flooded the market. There was also a whole
"school" of 'em who tried to swim the channel and failed, or who
were going to swim it, or something. The small time picked these
up here and there. They certainly made a big splash in vaude for a
while. But it was a gal like Annette Kellerman, who wore a skin-
fitting suit instead of grease, who outlasted all of ?em in vaude.
Billiard and pool champs chalked up their cues for vaudeville
routes. They too, like golfers, had a limited audience, although
their trick shots were interesting to laymen. They were no box-office
draw, but they did empty the pool rooms and fill the balconies with
the brethren. There were a few outstanding exhibition players and
champs who played vaude for many seasons. Charles C. Peterson
was the greatest trick-shot billiardist. Willie Hoppe went into
vaude when he was the eighteen-year-old champ. Eric Hagen-
lacher, the German 18.2 billiard champ, played six weeks on the
Orpheum Circuit. George Sutton played without arms. Bob Connc-
fax (billiards and pool) worked with Benny Rubin, the comedian,
as a foil. Then there were Fred Tallman (pool), Walter Cocharane,
Frank Taberski (pool), and of course Hammers tein would always
play the champ of the year.
In the early days of variety the audience really went for athletic
acts—club swingers, bag punchers, boxers, wrestlers. They all
brought big crowds because of the audience-participation angle.
Lefty's Letters 132
The so-called champs would challenge anybody in the theater to
get up to fight, swing clubs, wrestle, punch bags, etc., for a reward
they would announce as $1,000 (they didn't take in that much in a
week) . So you can imagine what chance you had to win. They had
more gimmicks than a carnival at a county fair. Walking contests
were very popular. "The heel and toe/' sez my friend Frank C.
Menke, "means you put weight quickly on the toe7 which acts as
the take-off spot for the next stride. The regular walker would do a
mile in twelve to fifteen minutes, while the heel-and-toe speedster
would do it in about sbc minutes and thirty seconds.77 Edward
Payson Weston finished his walk from Los Angeles to New York
and walked right into a route in vaudeville. George N. Brown,
who was billed as a champ heel-and-toe walker, did a great act in
vaude for many years with his regular partner, Pete Goldman, but
he would take the comic on the bill and get a lot of laughs with
him. Pat Rooney would be booked on the same shows with him
so he would be able to work in Brown's act They would work on
a treadmill (a la the bicycle riders) and make it pretty close,
besides getting a lot of laughs.
There was a fellow called Young Miles at Pastor's who was a
champ walker. He'd get a timekeeper from the audience and the
stage manager would call the laps as Young Miles would walk
around the stage. If you remember how tiny the stage was at
Pastor's, you can just imagine how dizzy he (and the audience)
got. He did a mile in eight minutes!
The best all-round athlete in and of show biz was Fred Stone.
I wrote you about the acrobats, etc., but these I mentioned here
were the pros and special attractions! SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
A Fair Exchange
Dear Joe,
England had variety shows fifty years before we did over here
and they have outlasted our vaudeville already by a quarter of a
century! Vaude over there today is going bigger than ever, not only
A FAIR EXCHANGE 133
doing big biz but upholding the traditions. The English have been
loyal to their artists and to vaudeville while we haven't. Over there
when you become a favorite, you stay that way in their hearts, re^
gardless of age and failing talents. In America you remained a
favorite as long as you remained a hit; when you flopped you were
soon forgotten by both the bookers and the public. Of course when
you were a hit in America, it paid off a hundred times more than
in England, but all the artists in America had, after years of giving
pleasure to thousands, was money, while the artist in England has
the love and affection of the people they have made gay and happy
and are sure of a warm welcome whenever or wherever they appearl
(And they also have dough.) Take your "cherce."
England sent us most of their great artists and they were wel-
comed here with open arms and purses. Harry Lauder, Wilkie
Bard, Albert Chevalier, George Lashwood, Clifton Crawford,
Beatrice Lillie, Gertrude Lawrence, Alice Lloyd, Vesta Victoria,
Arthur Prince, Vesta Tilley, Grade Fields, Will Fyfe, Cinquevalli,
R. A. Roberts, Bransby Williams, and so many more that I will
write you about later.
Much of Lauder's success in America (besides his great talent)
was due to the great showmanship and management of William
Morris, Sr., who managed him from 1905, when Lauder Erst came
over for Klaw & Erlanger Advanced Vaudeville (brought over by
H. B. Marinelli). When Morris took him on his first tour, he put
on a big publicity campaign that showed how stingy Lauder was
(it was started by Jack Lait) and which wasn't true, but Lauder as
a good showman went along with the gag, realizing it was great
publicity. Lauder gave thousands of dollars to wartime causes and
other charities, gave the receipts of two shows a week to the Red
Cross, and did hundreds of benefits during and after World War I.
Me and Aggie will never forget the Christmas Eve we spent with
Sir Harry and William Morris, Sr., in Parkerburg, West Virginia.
Toward the end of the evening he said, "Lefty, would you like a
wee doch an' dorris?" And I, being a drinking man, especially on
Christmas in a small town, said, "Fd love it, Sir Harry/7— and he
sang it\ I thought he meant— oh well, I finally bought niy own
drink! He was a grand gentleman and artist and every theater he
played in America still echoes with the strains of "She Is My
Daisy" and "RoamirV in the GloaniinV7
Wilkie Bard, another great artist, first came over here in the
Lefty's Letters m
early 19005 and played at Hammerstein's and was a terrific hit. He
got $3,250 a week (a mighty sum those days) . His friends told him
not to come to America because he would be a flop, as there were
many imitations of him and many acts who had stolen his mate-
rial over here. He took four weeks to prove to himself that he could
get over. He sang his famous "Nightwatchman," "Hail, Smilin'
Morn," and his wonderful "Chrysanthemums." He was the talk of
the town. He came back to play the Palace in 1919, and flopped; he
quit in the middle of the week, but went back when Sime, the
publisher of Variety, told him to rearrange his routine. He did and
got over big and finished his route in America a hit!
Albert Chevalier came to America long before Lauder and Bard.
He first played at Koster and Bial's and was a great hit. He came
back a half a dozen times and headlined all over America. He sang
many songs7 but the song that will be ever green in the hearts and
memories of all American vaude fans was "My Old Dutch.7'
There were many aristocrats of the two-a-day that our cousins
sent over to us, and me and Aggie knew many of 'em personally
and loved 'em. Great artists like Will Fyfe, who many claim was
even greater than Lauder (but I claim you can't be greater than
great— and Lauder was great) ! Albert Whelan, a great entertainer,
had the sole rights from Mark Sheridan, the original owner of
"Three Trees/' but Tom McNaughton and many more over here
used it. I can rattle off dozens of great English acts that did big
over here. Was there ever a funnier man than Bert Clark (Clark &
Hamilton)? Griff (the juggler), Charles Irwin, Chris Richards,
Handis & Millis, Lillian Ashley, Marie Lloyd, Lillian Morris, Daisy
Harcourt, the Lupinos, Ada Reeve, Lottie Collins, Loie Fuller,
J. P. Huntley (I can see him now buying the gun in that gun shop),
Wee Georgie Wood, Gracie Fields, Laddie Cliff, Vesta Victoria,
Cissie Loftus, Charlie Chaplin, and the McNaughtons are some of
the blue bloods of the " 'alls" they gave to America, who not only
brought artistry to us and taught the American single women to
use restricted songs, but were great ambassadors of friendship.
But me and Aggie also remember the flopperoos we exchanged.
Tn 1913 at Hammerstein's we saw Lord Kenneth Douglas Lome
MacLaine, who claimed he took the date to help pay off a $190,000
mortgage on his large estate in Scotland. He sang (his singing
couldn't pay off a mortgage on a bird bath) . After a few weeks he
quit and took a job as keeper of the hounds at Meadow Brook
A FAIR EXCHANGE 135
Hunt Club. He said, "It is steadier." That same year Lady Con-
stance Stewart Richardson danced at Hammerstein's. Seems all the
titled people were playing Hammerstein's. They had a certain draw;
society went to fawn on 'em and the common people went to take
a peek.
Cruickshank, an English musical clown, did one show at the
Palace, and went back to England after the matinee. A few years
later Wish Wynne, a fine artist, played the Riverside with tiny
billing and her name left out of the ads. Never before was a great
performer like her given this treatment ( I don't know the reason,
if there was any). But she more than made good later on all the
big-time bills.
Maude Allen's first appearance was fair; then she came over in
1916 with a large company of "classical" dancers and did a terrible
flopperoo. There were many more that flopped or just got by, but
Td rather talk about the hits. You will find a lot about them in my
other letters under the different type acts.
We sent many an act from America that made good in England,
and also many that "took the boat Wednesday." Mclntyre &
Heath, who were our greatest blackface act, got "the bird" at the
Hippodrome in London. They did their "Georgia Minstrels/*
which was too slow, then changed to "Waiting at the Church/'
doing a bit better, but still no good. They did real darky characters
that the English weren't familiar with. They got paid off for four
weeks and only played one. Bert Fitzgibbons only worked four days
and went home. He was too much like Frank Tinney (who was a
big hit before him). Other "nut acts," like Fitzgibbons, also
flopped. Acts like James J. Morton, Neil McKinley, and Jack
Wilson (he played only one show) all came too early. Acts like
Happy Jack Gardner, Nora Bayes, Elizabeth Murray, Edmund
Hayes (he had too much American slang) , Rock & Fulton, Trovato,
Pauline, the hypnotist (they thought he was trying to put some-
thing over on ?em), the Big City Four (1908 was too soon for a
straight singing quartette), Evelyn Nesbit (whom they sat through
quietly) and many many more didn't get over. In most cases it was
bad judgment in the selection of material, which the English just
didn't understand, like we in America couldn't understand many
of their artists. (Some of their single women couldn't use their
best songs over here because they were very blue for America, but
Left/ a Letters 136
were a big hit in England.) In 1919 they didn't like the shimmy
and sat through it quietly. (They were right.)
But we also sent them R. G. Knowles and Joe Coyne. Knowles
went over for a few weeks and I believe stayed fifteen years; Joe
Cope went over for a few weeks and stayed forty years. Jordan &
Harvey, one of the first Jewish comic acts, and York & Adams, an-
other great team, were terrific, and Julian Rose, who went to Eng-
land when his act was practically finished over here, became a big hit
and started a new career over there. Bonita & Lew Hearn were a
big hit over there both in vaude and revues. Will Mahoney and
Frank Tinney were sensations. Jack Norworth stayed there during
World War I in shows and vaude and was a big hit. Grant Gardner
& Marie Stoddard, one of the early American comedy piano acts,
were a big hit. Frank Orth & Ann Codee, the Duncan Sisters,
Williams & Walker, and Avery & Hart all were sensational. J. Rosa-
mond Johnson (Cole & Johnson) and Alf Grant did fine,
Herb Williams, when he saw his billing in London as the "fun-
niest man in the world," demanded they take it down before he
opened; with that kind of billing you have two strikes on you before
you even say a word. He was a tremendous hit when he opened.
(When Williams & Wolfus played there years earlier, they weren't
received very well.) Arthur Tracy, the Street Singer, was a big
favorite and could have stayed there for years. Riggs & Witchie, the
famous dance team, went over big. Al Trahan, who appeared in a
command performance (a great honor for an American act) , was a
riotj and billed himself over here as the "man who made the king
laugh/7 George Fuller Golden was one of the first monologists and
ambassadors of laughter we sent over— I'll bet he is still remem-
bered over there (but not here). Fred Niblo did very big. Smith &
Dale (the Avon Comedy Four) were tops on the first all- American
bill over there. York & King went over big. Friend & Downing, who
played all the Big Time over here, became terrific favorites over
there and remained for most of their vaude career.
Harry Green went over on spec and remained to become one of
the real big favorites both in vaude and shows. Kimberly & Page
went over on spec many years ago and have only come back to
America to visit. Fred Duprez also became established in England.
Doyle & Dixon were a bit hit with their classy dancing act. The
Mosconis danced into the English hearts, and Collins & Hart, with
their burly strong act, were just perfect for the English, Clark &
A FAIR EXCHANGE 137
McCullough could have stayed there forever. Jarrow and his lemon
trick, Moran & Weiser with their hats, the Three Swifts with their
clubs, and of course Van Hoven with his "ice" were just sensa-
tional!
The real old-time American acts that went over in the early
igoos really did the pioneering; they set the scene for the many
that followed. Some of them had it pretty tough and many of them
found booking easier to get than in America. Conditions there
were entirely different than here. They had playor-pay contracts
that you just couldn't break. Performers carried little date books
that showed them where they would play two and three years
ahead. There was a case in England where a Charles Stevens was
booked fifty-two weeks a year for eight years with no open dates.
That was in 1912, when an act in America was lucky to get ten
solid weeks.
Some of the first American acts were Barton & Ashley, Mike S.
Whalen, Fanny Fields, Terry & Lambert, Maude Courtney, O. K,
Sato, Belle Davis & Picks, Margaret Ashton, and Dan & Jessie
Hyatt.
We sent over many acts that made good but couldn't accept
bookings because of salary differences. Irene Franklin did big, but
demanded too much money, as did Taylor Granville, George
Beban, and the Four Bards. THAT Quartette had to split the
act because they couldn't get their dough.
The Two Bobs and the American Ragtime Octette started rag-
time in England about 1913. The Two Bobs are still over there, a
big hit on and off the stage. Rinaldo was the first American violin-
ist to attract attention; ragtime made him a hit! Maude Tiffany
also bowled 'em over with ragtime. "Coon" songs made a terrific
hit in London about 1907, so much so that the English writers
started writing their own coon songs! One gal, I believe Clara
Alexander, sang a song, "Way Down in North Dakota." Another
sang an American song and, instead of singing "Down in Atlanta,
G d," sang it "Down in Atlanta, Gaaa." But don't forget they have
names of towns that it would take three Americans to pronounce
(and then couldn't do it).
When war was declared over there in 1914, many acts couldn't
leave London. Salaries were paid in paper money, which was hard
to exchange. Managers canceled all German acts, so one of them
opened under Jap names and make-up. There were over 1 50 Ameri*
Lefty's Letters 138
can acts in London and managers were cutting salaries 30 to 50
per cent. They were cutting salaries in America too, because over
two hundred American and three hundred European acts arrived
and flooded the market. Some of them came via steerage. In spite
of its being wartime, the English managers made more dough
than they ever had and declared big dividends (as did the Ameri-
can managers).
English managers and agents began advertising in American
trade papers for American acts, telling them not to be afraid of
submarines or mines, there was plenty of work for good acts, etc.
Many took a chance and went over because of salary cuts here.
Actors had a tough time getting passports. In 1916 they were still
advertising for acts. One ad read, "Safe in England for Americans.
Air and sea cleared of danger. Zeps stopped during winter by
new guns and cold high altitude. Eight Germans frozen in Zep
during last air raid. Sea freed from subs by English control." But
many American acts weren't interested because of the big English
tax bite, which cut salaries in half. George Robey, one of England's
greatest comics and top taxpayer in 1918, paid $60,000 (our Mary
Pickford paid $300,000 that year over here) .
In 1919 the talk about international exchange of acts died out
because of the high income tax and the low exchange on the
pound. In 1935 William Morris held a special showing of twenty
vaude acts for English bookers at the Biltmore Hotel, with orches-
tra, etc., because there were no vaude theaters over here for showing
acts!
The biggest hits we sent over there, besides the ones I've men-
tioned, were Charles T. Aldrich, Jim Corbett, Houdini, Bellclaire
Bros., Joe Jackson, the Four Fords, Elsie Janis, W. C- Fields, Al
Trahan, Hildegarde, Van & Schenck, Will Rogers, and of course
the one and only Sophie Tuckerl
Yop, me and Aggie think it was a fair exchange, SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
THE BLACKFACE ACTS 139
Acts
Dear Joe,
I have written you before that the blackface performers were the
first acts in variety. The Negro as a comic figure was popular after
the Civil War, and besides it was an easy thing to put on "black/7
a pair of big shoes, and old misfit clothes — no outlay for wardrobe,
and when you were in blackface you at least felt like and looked like
a professional actor!
After a while many performers "washed up/' or took off the cork,
and went into other characterizations — Irish, Jewish, Italian — but
the minstrels who went into vaude and had a rep as blackface
comics stuck to their make-ups and identification. In the early days
of variety everybody was trying to get away from the cork because
there were so many of them, and naturally the smart ones tried to
break away so they would be "different" and so get better dough
and billing.
When vaude was in its Golden Age, blackface again became
popular. Nearly all the singles started to do blackface, but it wasn't
like the old-time minstrels who tried to portray a character; these
new minstrels just put on "black" and talked "white." No dialect,
didn't even try, in fact some of them told Hebe stories in black-
face! For what reason they blacked up will never be known, except
to hide some awful-looking pans I Just like many Jewish boys did
Irish and Dutch in early days of variety, all the boys, Jewish, Irish,
German, and Italian, took up blackface comedy. It became a craze.
Maybe it was because a guy in blackface could get away with many
things he couldn't in white face. People figured you were an
"actor" when you had black on. And besides, working in white
face demanded a personality, which many of the guys didn't have,
but when blackened up with a big white mouth they looked funny
and got over easier. They dressed in regular street clothes and didn't
even try to do characterizations! The old minstrels wept!
There were still a few old-time minstrels who did the Negro
dialect and mannerisms and portrayed the Negro as he was. The
tops in our memory were Jim Mclntyre and Tom Heath, who did
Lefty's Letters l&
many acts in vaude, trying to keep up to date, but "The Georgia
Minstrels" was the classic of them all, and as far as me and Aggie
are concerned the greatest of all the blackface acts! No slapstick,
just fine characterizations and belly laughs. They were the oldest
two-man act in vaude-— teamed in 1874. They very seldom spoke to
each other, except for business reasons. They lived in d fferent
hotels when possible. One was a bottle man and the other liked
champagne.
They were without a doubt the deans of all blackface acts. They
were in variety and vaude most of their professional careers— took
a few detours in minstrel and one Broadway show (The Ham
Tree), but always came back to their first love, vaudeville. Tom
was the straight man while Jim played the conr'c. A guy by the
name of Butler was Mclntyre's first partner. While playing a
honky-tonk, Butler had to leave town suddenly. There are a lot of
stories why; some say he was shot at by the natives of San Antonio
because he wore a high hat; others say he was shot at because he
had his pants off— woman trouble. Anyway, Tom Heath, who was
on the same show, joined Jim Mclntyre and they stuck together
all through the years, unto their deaths. Jim Mclntyre went first
on August 18, 1937, and Tom Heath followed him August 19, 1938.
I'll never forget the time Tom Heath and I were sitting in the
lobby of the Hollis Chambers in Boston, looking out the big front
window (hotels those days had big store windows and the sales-
men and actors would sit there and give the local gals the eye).
Tom was a tobacco chewer, and my foot was near the big brass
cuspidor. I was afraid to pull my foot away for fear he would think
I was underestimating his aim. (Remember, I was a kid and he was
a big star.) He certainly had me nervous for an hour, but he proved
just as big a star at spittin* tobacco juice as he was on the stage; he
never missed the cuspidor once!
Fox & Ward were together even longer than Mclntyre & Heath,
but were not as well known. They did an ordinary blackface act
and became popular because of their long partnership. When they
were together fifty years, E. F. Albee gave them a route (and plenty
of publicity for the Keith Circuit) for $350 a week. They were very
fine gentlemen, never argued, and played out the string together.
The big-hit blackface act to follow Mclntyre & Heath were
Conroy & LeMaire— -Conroy, a fine comic with a high squeaky
voice (& la Tom Heath, but no copy), and George LeMaire, one
THE BLACKFACE ACTS 141
of the greatest straight men in show biz. They changed their act
every few years, but "The Pinochle Fiends'* was one of their best.
Kaufman Bros. (Jack and Phil) were an old team who depended
more on their fine singing voices than on their comedy. Irving
joined his brother when Jack died. Irving Kaufman, I believe, has
made more recordings than anybody in show biz — thousands of
them under all kinds of names. You know him best as the man who
sang the French commercial on radio about Martin wine.
Dan Quinland & Kellar Mack (later Quinland & Richards) were
two old minstrel men who did a very funny act called "The Travel-
ing Dentist." Dan was one of the greatest of all interlocutors, stood
over six feet, had a booming voice, a fine vocabulary, and was a
handsome guy (even when he was in the seventies). Haynes &
Vidoq did a swell blackface act. Wood & Shepherd were one of the
greatest blackface musical acts.
As for the single men in blackface, there were hundreds of 'em.
Jack Norworth (later Bayes & Norworth) started in show biz as a
blackface monologist and singer; he called his act "The Jailhouse
Coon."
Al Jolson (Jolson, Palmer & Jolson) did the part of a bellboy in
the act in white face and didn't get over until J. Francis Dooley
(Dooley & Sales), on the bill with them, suggested that Al blacken
up. He did, and from then on Al did black; no dialect — just did a
Northerner's idea of a Negro dialect. He didn't do bad with it. His
brother Harry did blackface later.
One of the greats was George "Honey Boy" Evans (got his nick-
name through singing Norworth's song, "Honey Boy"). He did a
corking monologue and was a headliner for years, and also starred
in shows.
Lew Dockstader, the famous minstrel in whose shows many of
the great entertainers served their apprenticeships, was one of the
tops of the blackface singles. He later took off the cork and worked
in white face.
Eddie Cantor, who worked in blackface all through vaude and
in the Ziegfeld Frolics, worked in white face in the Ziegfeld Follies
and shows, but by some trick of the plot always finished the show
ters and a great wife called Ida! ^ __^™~— ^^
There "if fa Tot of BlacHace ac£sT"wrote you about and will teU
in blackface. He didn't do bad, for a guy with five beautiful daugh-
you about under different headings— -two-man acts, entertainers,
Lefty's Letters 142
monologists, etc. But here are a few names that come to mind that
were real good: Bert Swor, Rawls & Von Kaufman, Ben Smith,
Emil Subers, Swor & Mack (the original of Moran & Mack), John
Swor & West Avery, Spiegel & Dunn, George Thatcher, Bill Van,
Neil O'Brien (who did singles, doubles, and sketches and who at
this writing is the only top minstrel still alive— a real great trouper) ,
Pistel & Gushing, Jay C. Flippen, Jack George Duo, Lew Hawkins,
Lou Holtz, Al Herman, Hufford & Chain, John Hazzard (who later
wrote 'Turn to the Right"), Mel Klee, Kramer & Morton, Mackin
& Wilson (Francis Wilson years later became a Broadway star and
the first president of Actors' Equity), Amos 'n' Andy (who went
under the name of Sam 'n' Henry), Coakley & McBride, Hugh
Dougherty (who did one of the first stump speeches), and many
many more I will tell you about later.
While on this subject, when Frank Tinney (one of our greatest
blackface comics) played London, he was a terrific hit. He had to
make out an income-tax return over there and when the authorities
saw an item of $750 for burnt cork (used for make-up), an English
gentleman of the income-tax bureau came to visit our Frank. "My
dear Mr. Tinney, we just cawn't understand your item of $750 for
burnt cork; surely it doesn't cost that much for plain burnt cork?"
Tinney looked at him with a typical Tinney look (like a kid that's
been caught stealing jam) and said, "But my dear man, I use
champagne corksl"
This same gag was later used (with a twist) by a certain bur-
lesque comic who charged $500 for nose putty. When asked why
such an absurd amount, he said, "Ah, but I put a spangle on my
nose!" (I still claim Tinney's answer was funnier — and earlier.)
The old-time blackface acts are now washed up; there isn't a
blackface act today in show biz (except when the Elks put on a
minstrel show), but they are not washed up in our memories, SEZ
Your pdy
LEFTY
MEET THE FAMILY 143
Family
Dear Joe,
Me and Aggie are kinda proud of show biz and its people, and
especially proud of the many show folks who raised a family under
tougher conditions than average people do. They had to keep work-
ing and that meant plenty traveling, and that's tough on grown
folks, so you can imagine what it does to kids! Some left the kid
with the in-laws, or a good aunt, or even a cousin, or many times
had to board the kid with strangers. Those who weren't lucky
enough to have relations (if you can call having relations lucky)
or couldn't afford to pay for boarding the kids just had to take 'em
on the road. Many of the kids were left with the boardinghouse
lady, or the chambermaid, or even the bellboy at the hotel (the
first baby sitters) while the parents went on at the local theater.
In those days they didn't have any formulas, or if they did, actors
didn't know about it; all they knew were routines.
The kid was gotten up at all hours of the night to make trains,
and after making the trains, the family had to sit up in a day coach
to save dough. The theatrical baby was raised on a formula of
candy, popcorn, sips of coffee, and smoke rings. Anything to keep
the kid quiet so he wouldn't wake up the people who were trying
to get some shut-eye. In the company cars on which the actors on
circuits would ride (the whole show in one car), the kids of course
had the run of the car (and the train). All the actors would cater
to the kids, if you can call stuffing them with candy and fruit cater-
ing. The old guys would figure they should of had a kid and maybe
wouldn't have had to work any more. The older gals just showered
unused motherly love on 'em. And the younger guys told 'em gags
and taught them a time step, figuring these kids were different
than regular kids and had to be "smarted up." The dirty stories
and bad words picked up on the tour were from outsiders, not from
actors, who were always careful with their talk and conduct when
"the kid" was around.
Naturally, the parents were proud when the kid imitated some
act; they felt the youngster might become a great "somebody" in
Lefty9 s Letters 144
show biz some day, something they'd been struggling for years to
be— and never made it. Me and Aggie have heard hundreds of actor
parents say, "If this kid grows up to be an actor, I'll kill him/7 But
if the kid showed no signs of talent, they would grieve. A lawyer
would like to see his son become a good lawyer, the same with a
doctor, baseball player, etc., and if they don't the father is especially
disappointed. With show folks, if the kid turns out to be a lawyer,
doctor, engineer, or a banker, they are proud— but very dis-
appointed!
Many a show biz kid have we "baby-sitted" while their parents
were out "making a buck," playing a club or date. Many a kid we
and the other acts on the bill "rocked" to sleep singing "St. Louis
Blues" while their parents were on stage. (Now you know regular
kids don't get that kind of lullaby!) Many an act's kid we gave a
bath to, because we had a bathroom with hot water, and their
parents at the boardinghouse didn't. (We went back to those
public baths later.) One of the greatest kicks is to bathe a youngster
about three years old; you play "seal" with him, throw him the
sponge, and tell him it's a fish. They were show kids and belonged
to all of us. Around Christmas time everybody on the bill would go
all out for the kid on the bill! They would get the most useless
presents anybody ever got, because everybody bought what he
wanted when he was a kid!
Some of the kids grew up smart, some too smart, and there's
nothing worse in the world than a show kid that's smart and fresh!
A show kid seemed to grow older faster than regular kids. The kids
got tired waiting in the wings, and eventually Pop and Mom would
take them out for a bow, not that they wanted to commercialize
the kid (although I know many times the baby taking a bow
saved the act— many's the time me and Aggie could have used a
kid). But the parents wanted to show off to the town people that
they too were "family" people and had a kid. Of course a "traveling
kid" sort of itched to get on the stage. So it was a short step from
just taking a bow to letting the kid do a bit. They usually knew
everybody's act word for word and could imitate anybody (fresh
memories), so when they did something real good, the parents
were kinda proud, and instead of standing 'em up in a parlor to
recite to the company, they would stick 'em on the stage to do it
in front of an audience, and if it was good, they'd keep it in the act
(where there were no laws against it) . Many of the kids when they
MEET THE FAMILY 145
grew up lost their talent and voices at the time when it really
counted. Those who had talent were sometimes used by parents
to keep their "old act" alive. They naturally "pushed" the kid,
who made it possible for them to stay on the stage; most of these
acts were booked because the kid would put the act over in spite of
the parents being passe.
Other acts kept their kids off the stage and put them in boarding
schools and military academies, figuring the kid would be a big guy
in some other line, and praying all the time he wouldn't! I'm teli-
ing you about kids that were weaned on applause and educated
on the show biz Three Rs7 gags, singing, and a time step! Some of
7em made more dough at the age of eight than most bank presi-
dents. Jackie Coogan, Jane and Kathryn Lee, Jackie Cooper, Mickey
Rooney, Mary Pickford, etc. etc.
A stage mother starts out like regular mothers but soon becomes
a combination manager, house detective, tigress fighting for her
young, banker, and live chastity belt! She fights with everybody for
the rights of or fancied wrongs to her offspring, running to get
the proper billing, good spot on the bill, best dressing room, and
an easy future for the kid . . . and Mom\ Mothers of vaude kids
are seven degrees worse than nonworking husbands of celebs. An
agent can kick a husband out if he gets too tough, but he can't do
that with a vaude mother (she's liable to throw him out) . The only
escape for the agent is to book the kid out of town and get rid of
'em both! There are three kinds of stage mothers, the non-pro,
the ex-pro, and the "working mom/7 Years ago Ned Wayburn
offered a prize to anyone who could make a "mother powder"—
something to sprinkle on the stage mother and she would drop
dead, or at least disappear. Nobody ever got the prize. We had a
lot of S.M.s years ago in vaude. Some were swell, some good, and
some very bad!
The non-pro mom was the gal who didn't know anything about
show biz and its traditions; all she knew was her kid was a genius.
The ex-pro, who was now just traveling as a guardian for her kid,
sort of resented not being able to still "go on" . . . and of course
the working mom's main job was to keep the kid from falling in
love with some actor (or actress), and so break up the "family"
act. One thing I will say about the latter, when a real clever guy or
gal came along that looked like he had star-dust in his eyes, they'd
Lefty's Letters M6
O.K. the match. Stage kids followed their parents' wishes more
than other kids.
There were quite a number of stage families in vaude— maybe
it was because there were many small towns the acts played where
there was nothing else to do besides the act.
In vaude where mother and father were doing an act, mother-
hood was a big problem. The lady had to stop working at least four
months before the happy event. She wanted to work longer (many
of 'em did), but the costumes didn't fit, and the folks out front
always looked at a pretty gal where they shouldn't. After it was all
over they would have to lay off at least a month, so it was a great
drain on the team financially, and sometimes maybe they'd even
lose a whole route. So it was pretty brave couples that went in for
raising families while working in show biz. It showed a great "fam-
ily spirit" to make all the sacrifices. Of course there were acts of
God, but on a smaller percentage; the professional couple had to
figure it out, because it meant a lot to them financially and career-
wise.
We know some kids in show biz that were born backstage and
the mothers went back to work in a couple of days. You expect this
from Indian women, but not from glamorous gals! The greatest
family acts were in the circus. That is easily understood, because
circus kids were added to the act as soon as they were able to do a
handspring, and immediately earned their keep. They never figured
the kid would want to do anything else, and I don't think the
majority of circus kids did. What a break for a kid to be born in a
circus; he didn't have to pay to get in!
There were many great families in vaude. Me and Aggie feel that
the Four Cohans were the royal family of vaudeville, as the Barry-
mores were of the legit! The Cohans stuck together as a family for
many years, in and out of vaude— Jerry, Helen, Josephine, and
George M. George started out playing a fiddle and ended up with a
flag and a Congressional Medal! The Barrymores all appeared in
vaude, but not together. Maurice Banymore appeared as a head-
liner in many sketches, Ethel played vaude with a few sketches
(between shows), as did Lionel, with 'The White Slave," and
Jack did a sketch, "His Wedding Mom/' Their uncle and aunt,
Mr. and Mrs. Sidney Drew, were famous vaude headliners for years
in comedy sketches like "Billy's Tombstones." You just have to
MEET THE FAMILY 147
mention the Barrymores whenever you talk about any branch of
show biz.
The heirs apparent to the Cohans were the Mortons, Sam, Kitty,
Clara, Paul, Martha, and Joe. In fact, they were in vaudeville
much longer than the Cohans. They stuck in vaude until the finish
—a great act! Then there were Eddie Foy and the Seven Little
Foys, Bryan, Charlie, Mary, Madeline, Dick, Eddie, Jr., and Irving;
the boys looked like their dad and the girls looked like their
brothers. Their mother was a fine ballerina. What a family! They
all were talented, crazy, and lovable! (Eddie, Sr., would say, "If I
lived in Flatbush, it would be a city.") The Marx Brothers, with
always an extra Marx for a spare, were great— Groucho, Harpo,
Chico, Gummo, and Zeppo, and their wonderful mother, who was
a great shownjan, Minnie Palmer! The Five Columbians were a
musical act consisting of Pop and Mom Miller, Claire, the doll
pianist, Ruth, the singer, and little Marilyn, who played the drums
and danced, and who later became the famous Ziegfeld star,
Marilyn Miller! There were the Four Diamonds, Mom, Pop, and
two sons; the kids later did swell for themselves in their own act.
The Sully Family, who did an act in vaude for over fifteen years,
consisted of John Sully, Sr., Grace (mother), Bill Sully (later of
Sully & Houghton, great act), John, Jr. (of Sully & Thomas, still
going big), and Estelle (now retired). They all packed a lot of
talent.
James C. Morton & Family, Pop (from Morton & Moore) , Mom
(Mamie Diamond), and their two kids were a grand bunch. There
were the Keatons, Joe, Myra, Buster, Jingles, and Louise. Buster
Keaton is still one of our greatest pantomimists. The Dooley
family, Johnny, Billy, Gordon, and Ray, didn't all play together,
only as brother and sister, two brothers, singles, etc., but they cer-
tainly belong with the vaude families. Ray is the only survivor. The
Mosconi Family appeared as a family dancing act, Pop Mosconi
(who could outdance all of his kids), Charlie, Louis, Verna, and
Willie (tops in this type act). May Wirth & Family, the great
equestrian act, is an old and honored one not only in the circus but
in vaude. The Breen Family, Nellie, her dad, and her brother,
Charles B. Lawlor and Daughters (he wrote "Sidewalks of New
York"), Keno & Green and their daughter Mitzi (the very talented
Mitzi Green) are others. The Musical Hodges and the Musical
Cuttys were two large and very well-known vaude families.
Lefty's Letters 148
The Bell Family (there were about ten of them) were the famous
Mexican bell ringers. Other families were Carter De Haven &
Flora Parker with their talented offspring, Gloria and Carter, Jr.
(class); Ross Wyse, Jr., and his Pop and Mom; West, Virginia &
West (that's Buster West); the Rianos (Renee became a very
funny gal); the Three Graces (Dad, Mother, and Frankie); Craw-
ford & Broderick, and their talented son, Broderick Crawford; Lulu
McConell & Grant Simpson and son; and Chic York & Rose King
and daughter—when she got married, they ran a full-page ad in
Variety about the marriage; on the bottom it gave their route and
said "Booked Solid"— the first time this was ever done in a trade
paper. I also remember the time when the Happy McNulty's (a
family act) put an in memoriam notice in Variety saying, "In
memory of our dear departed Father—The Happy McNultys "
A double family act was Herman Timberg and his son (now a
swell comic known as Tim Mack) and Pat Rooney and his son, Pat,
Jr. (a swell dancer). They all worked together for a number of
seasons and were a great act. There was the Kelton Family; later
Sue (the mother) and Pert did a "sister" act and Pop was the
leader in the orchestra (faked it), Pert did a Chaplin imitation
when she was a kid in the act and later became a swell single in the
Follies. More of the families were Grace Hayes and her very tal-
ented son, Peter Lind Hayes; Montrose & Allen and their funny
son Steve; Arthur Byron, wife, and daughter Eileen; Johnny Hyams
& Leilia Mclntyre and their pic-star daughter, Leilia Hyams;
George Whiting & Sadie Burt and their daughter Virginia May;
the Chadwick Trio, Mom, Pop, and Ida May; Ed Blondell with his
beautiful daughter Joan; J» C. Nugent with his wife, son Elliot,
and daughter Ruth; O'Brien Havel and two sons Arthur and Puggy
(they didn't work together); Mr. and Mrs. Norman Phillips and
Jr.; Wells, McGinty & West (father and two sons — wonderful
pantomime comedy act) : Annie Yeainans and daughter; and so
many many more that it would be impossible to mention because
of space. But they were all nice folks.
Me and Aggie get a big laugh when we recall the sister acts we
played with. How each wife would watch her husband, and every
gal partner would watch her boy partner, because the sister acts
were supposed to be always on the prowl for a husband or loose
partner to kind of better themselves, figuring one or the other was
gonna get married sooner or later and quit the other sister or even
MEET THE FAMILY 149
the stage, so it was open season all the time. This wasn't really
true, because the majority of 'em were swell, decent gals.
In small towns, especially where the manager was a wolf, the
sister act would get the best dressing room, regardless of their bill-
ing. The stagehands and musicians would cater to them, they'd
get away with excess baggage charges at the railroad station, and
the clerk in the hotel would give them a good rate. Most of the
gals were a lot of laughs, giving the town yokels a play while side-
winking at their fellow artists. You see, the poor gals couldn't go
with anybody on the bill, because the wives and partners were
jealous. The sister act knew what it was all about, and after all the
gals had to live, and that's how the agents and bookers figured too.
Audiences would rather see a mediocre sister act than a good
brother act (they were better to look at). The women out front
could either pan the girls' hair-dos or their clothes, and maybe copy
them. They could also argue about, "Which is the youngest?" and
"I wonder are they real sisters?" (and many of them weren't—
some were even mother and daughter) .
There weren't very many top-notch comedy sister acts; you could
almost count them on one hand. The Nicholl Sisters (the first
great two-woman blackface act) were swell. You had to give them
credit for blackening up, because a swell-looking gal (which each
one was) doesn't like to smear that cork over her face, but those
two gals figured it would be a novelty, and they were right; they
outlasted many a sister act in vaude. The Elinore Sisters did a
comedy act, worked like the Russell Bros., and split when Kate mar-
ried Sam Williams (they worked together for years) . Mary & Ann
Clark were a standard comedy act for many years and remained
together until Ann died. The Watson Sisters (Kitty and Fanny)
are the Smith & Dale of the sister acts; they are still together and
those two gals still pack plenty of comedy. The runners-up are the
Duncan Sisters, who started out as a harmony act and ended up as
a great comedy act.
Most of the regular sister acts did singing and dancing and
featured clothes— and looks! When me and Aggie say anybody
was tops, it is our own opinion, but we are sure the record will
bear us out. You know the old story about Montgomery Epstein,
who said, "It's a good thing we all don't like the same things, or
else we would all be eating herring!"
The biggest drawing card among the sister acts were Rose
Lefty's Letters S5°
(Rozicka) and Jenny (Yanci) Dolly. They had plenty of class.
First billed as the Dolly Twin Sisters, they ran an ad in Variety
when they first came to New York saying, "Rose gives imitations
of Isadora Duncan, English fantastic dancer" (and gave their Bronx
address, 669 Caldwell Ave.). They later became the talk of two
continents! There were many classy dancing and singing sister acts:
the Cameron Sisters (beautiful Madeline is now the wife of Billy
Gaxton), the Ban Twins, the Millership Sisters, the Fairbanks
Twins, Mabel & Dora Ford, the De Long Sisters, the White Sisters,
the Oakland Sisters, the Stewart Sisters, the Lorraine Sisters, the
De Wolfe Sisters (Georgette & Capitola), Julia & fosie Rooney,
and the Crisp Sisters.
Some of them even threw in a piano for good measure and did
real good singing; tops among the sister singing acts were Rosa and
Carmela Ponselle. It was Carmela who brought Gene Hughes,
the agent, to her home to hear her sing and had her sister Rosa
accompany her on the piano. Gene asked if Rosa could sing. She
sang for him, and he made them do a double act. They were a tre-
mendous hit on the small time, held over for full weeks (where
they only played acts split weeks). They got the Big Time and
again were a big hit for very little dough. They should have re-
ceived at least $2,000 a week according to the hit they made, but
all they asked for was a $50 raise— $400— and the booking office
said no. So they split the act and Rosa went to the Metropolitan
and did one of the greatest Carmens that ever was in the place.
The Courtney Sisters, Fay and Florence (the latter was married
to George Jessel twice), were one of the first great harmony sister
acts. There were the McCarthy Sisters (Marguerite and Dorothy),
the Four Haley Sisters (one of the first girl quartettes), the Misses
Campbell, Mae & Rose Wilton, the Trix Sisters, Tempest & Sun-
shine, the Boswell Sisters, the Meredith Sisters (first to sing "'Hia-
watha"; they were mulattos and passed as Indians in England), the
Three Dolce Sisters, the Chesleigh Sisters, Thelma & Margie
White, the Williams Sisters (Hannah married Jack Dempsey),
Lillian & Ann Roth (did a kid-sister act), the Aber Twins (beauti-
ful gals), the O'Connor Twins, June and Cherry Preisser (Cherry
married the son of Harry Hopkins), the Three Allen Sisters (with
Larry Reilly; one of them was Gracie Allen), and Clara & Emily
Barry (of the famous Barry Family, Lydia, Bobby, and their dad,
who was the famous Irish star Billy Barry of Barry and Faye) .
MEET THE FAMILY 151
There were no dumb sister acts, but many of 'em did dumb acts.
One was the great aerial act of the Leitzel Sisters (Lillian became
the greatest aerialist in the world before she died from a fall during
her performance). Other great sister acts doing aerial acts were the
Austin Sisters and the Alfretti Sisters. Remember the Lunettes, and
the Curzon Sisters (they had all kinds of colored spotlights on
them while they swung in the air, hanging by their teeth). The
Bennett Sisters did boxing, fencing, and wrestling; the Weston
Sisters sang German songs and boxed; the El Rey Sisters did a
skating act; the Similete Sisters were contortionists; the Three
Athletas did a strong act (Ann Codee was one of the sisters and
became a great comedienne); Maude and Gladys Finney were
billed as "mermaids" and did a diving act; the loleen Sisters did a
wire act, as did the O'Meer Sisters. Another swell sister act was
Jane and Kathryn Lee, who started as tiny kids in pics and then
became headliners in vaude.
Among the sisters who played sketches were Bessie & Harriet
Rempel, Vivian & Genevieve Tobin, Crisp Sisters, Josephine Har-
mon & Sands, and Edith & Mabel Taliaferro.
The legit had plenty of sister acts (if you can call 'em that).
Many of them played vaude; that's why I am mentioning them.
Usually the one who hit the top would get the other one a bit part
or a chance at a small part so they would be together. Sometimes
the youngster would beat out the veteran. Maxine Elliot was al-
ready established when her sister Gertie made her start. Kate Terry
was the toast of London when Ellen, her sister, came over here and
topped her popularity. Lillian Russell's sister, Suzanne Westford,
wasn't as pretty as Lillian and didn't get very far in show biz,
Blanche Ring and her sister Julia both did well. Bessie & Nellie
McCoy did a sister act in vaude and when they split Bessie became
a star. (Remember her singing "Yama Yama Man"?) The Irwin
Sisters worked for Tony Pastor; May became one of the great comic
stars of her time and Flo took out the road companies. Rose &
Nellie Beaumont were with Weber & Fields, split, and then went
in vaude with Nellie's husband, Billy B. Van. You've heard of
Tetrazzini? But few ever heard of her sister Eva, Signora Campa-
nini, who was also a fine singer but couldn't overcome her sister's
lead.
Ray Cox & Hazel were sisters, but never worked together. Lottie
Gilson (the Little Magnet) had a sister Gertie, but Lottie was the
Lefty's Letters 15^
star. There was a very novel sister act in vaude called the Bergere
Twins; one sang and the other took encores, and the audience
couldn't tell which was which.
There were a few mother and daughter acts that were billed as
"sisters/' like the Flood Sisters (they did walking on a globe), Pert
& Sue Kelton, and Pauline & Marie Saxton. Pauline was the
mother, and did a "rube" single for years after splitting the act;
Marie became a Broadway singing and dancing star of musical
comedy, until she retired after marrying Sid Silverman? the pub-
lisher of Variety. All three have passed on and Sid, Jr., is now the
owner and publisher of Variety.
Many acts billed as sister acts were really two-woman acts, which
I'll write you about some other time. I just wrote you about the
on-the-level sister acts this time.
As you see, many of the sister acts changed partners or got
married, and didn't stay together very long. But there were two
sister acts in vaude that stuck together through thick and thin
and never even dreamed of splitting. They were Mary and Mar-
guerite Gibb (who were the Siamese twins) and Daisy and Violet
Hilton, "The American Siamese Twins"!
The story about the brother acts is the same as the sister acts.
There were many acts billed as brothers that weren't. It was an
easy way to stop arguments about who should be billed first. The
early brother acts were mostly hoofers; they would dress alike, and
so it was natural for them to be billed as "brothers." In real life I
never saw real brothers dress alike unless they were twins. Where
I was raised, the younger brother wore the older brother's clothes,
and when he got some of his own he'd get a different color so
people would know it was a new suit. But the stage "brothers"
dressed alike because they got a price on two-suit orders. It was
very funny to see a typical Italian boy and a typical Jewish boy
billed as "brothers" (or any combination you can think of). Audi-
ences would look at the billing, then look at the act, and say, "I
guess they're stepbrothers."
Me and Aggie are just gonna mention a few of the real brother
acts in vaude; those we leave out no doubt will be mentioned in
my other letters to you under some other kind of a heading. The
Musical Johnstons were together over forty years, and only the
great Stage Manager parted them. There were the Patti Bros,
(one of them went downstairs on his head), the Otto Bros., Al &
MEET THE FAMILY 153
Harry Klien, the Roger Bros, (successors to Weber & Fields), the
Siddons Brothers (dancing policemen), Joe Cook & Bro. (Joe was
the guy who made the Four Hawaiians famous), the Rice Bros,
(there were two teams by that name, one a great comedy bar act
and the other a double Dutch act), the Six Byrne Bros, (a terrific
act) , and the Rigoletto Bros., who have been together for thirty-five
years to my knowledge and are still going big, even unto TV. I
believe they are the oldest real brother act still working, outside of
the Gaudschmidts and the Arnaut Brothers.
Then there were the Bush Bros., Fields Bros., Teddy & Blackie
Evans, the Sharp Bros., Van Bros, (another long-time team), Bow-
man Bros., Terry Twins, Mahoney Bros. (Will Mahoney became a
headliner), Six Brown Bros., Harry & Bert Gordon (Bert became
the famous Mad Russian of the Cantor program), the Arnaut
Bros. (Two Loving Birds), another old-time act now on TV, the
Schwartz Bros, (the double mirror act), who were together over forty
years, Arthur & Fuggy Havel, who started together and are still to-
gether (great kids), the Bernevici Brothers, who started as two violin-
ists and when they split the "Count" went on his own as a successful
band leader, Bert Fitzgibbons and his brother Lew (later Bert became
king of the "nut" comics), the Musical Berrens, Three Leightons
(Joe, Bert, and Frank), who rewrote and sang the pop version of
"Frankie and Johnny," Val & Ernie Stanton, and the Girard
Brothers (who were with Mae West for awhile).
One of the greatest brother acts was the Four Marx Bros.; an-
other great brother act was William & Gordon Dooley; the Three
Du For Bros. (Harry, Denis & Cyril, fine dancers) ; the Wilson Bros.
(Frank & Joe) were a popular team in vaude and were together for
many years (when anybody in the audience would laugh, Joe
would blow a whistle and say "Ged oud"). The Purcella Bros,
were part of the great Six American Dancers; the Callahan Bros,
were great comics who acted as stooges with many acts, besides
being good hoofers as were the Pearson Brothers; the Rath Bros,
the classiest of all acrobats; Ed & Lou Miller were great singers;
the Swor Brothers did acts with each other at various times; the
Hickey Bros, did a great comedy act for years.
The Gaudschmidts are the oldest acrobatic act of its kind in the
business; they must have been together over fifty years. There
were Claude & Clarence Stroud, the Kelso Bros., Reis Bros.,
Weaver Bros., Ritz Bros, (still together and doing a swell job on
Lefty's Letters 154
TV), Jim and Mercer Templeton, who worked together for many
years, the Three Small Brothers, Joe & Pete Michon, the Gaits
Bros., Four Slate Bros., Frey Twins, Russell Bros., and the greatest
of 'em all, Willie & Eugene Howard, who were together for many
years until Willie was starred in a show (Gene was his manager).
They had a brother Sam who was a very good comic in his own
right, but couldn't get anywhere because Willie was so wonderful
(the comparison just kept him out). Another case of that kind
was Al Jolson and his brother Harry. Of course no brother or even
a distant relation or even a stranger could touch Al Jolson!
There were a number of brother and sister acts in vaude, but
for business reasons many of them didn't bill themselves that way.
Somehow or other a gal lost her glamor for the gents out front
when she was a "sister/' I believe it cooled them off to know that
her brother was looking out for her. It was the same as the Mr. and
Mrs. billing. It sounds screwy, but maybe this new kind of mind
docs that lays you on a couch instead of an operating table can
explain it. All me and Aggie know is what we saw through our
many years in vaude. We can mention many brother and sister
acts that did very well in spite of the billing, but many felt it was
best to "let 'em guess out front."
The ones who were unafraid were Victor Hyde & Sister, Harry &
Eva Puck, Bud & Nellie Heirn, Bernard & Dorothy Granville, Harry
Fink & Sister, Al & Fanny Stedman (a great comedy piano act),
the Aerial Budds, Hattie & Herman Timberg, the Cansinos (Elisa,
Eduardo, Angel, and Jose), Kitty, Ted & Rose Doner (a great
family), Billy Wayne & Ruth Warren (brother and sister— a swell
comedy act), Rae Ball & Brother, Mollie & Charles King, Elsie &
Harry Pilcer, Keller Sisters & Lynch (brother and sisters), Alice &
Sonny LaMont, Jack & Kay Spangler, the Three Reillys, Vilma
& Buddy Ebsen; Annie, Judy & Zeke (Judy Canova), Florence
Moore & Brother. Some, as you may notice, weren't billed as
brother and sister, but the advance notices for all these said that
they were brothers and sisters. (Did I forget Fred & Adele Astaire?)
What I am trying to tell you, Joe, is that vaude people were no
different than anybody else. They had pops, moms, brothers, and
sisters, and most of all, they had tdent\ They were for real! SEZ
Your pal,
UEFTY
ANIMALACTS 155
Animal Acts
Dear Joe,
Me and Aggie really shouldn't lilce animal acts, because when we
first went out West on a vaude tour, we rode in a "tourist car"
which was practically third class. Now, don't tell me there never
was third class in America on railroads. They gave you a cheaper
rate than a day coach in a car with cane seats and a stove at one
end where the passengers could cook their food. (In summer the
cane seats were much cooler than the plush ones in the pullmans.)
These tourist cars were mostly for emigrants, but our show had
one all to ourselves — we all wanted to save dough (but me and
Aggie didn't have any dough to save; in those days Aggie's grouch
bag was flatter than a record) . Anyway, what I want to tell you is
that we had a dog act on the show; the dogs were in the baggage
car, but the owner cooked all the dog food in our car. Brother,
did you ever smell dog food cooking— in a train? Ill tell you what
it did for me and Aggie: the railroads lost two tourist-rate cus-
tomers. After that trip we traveled first class, if you can call a day
coach first class!
The circuses furnished the variety theaters with the "small stuff*
animal acts, like dogs, monkeys, ponies, pigeons, etc., that could
play on small stages and get into the small stage doors. When the
circus would close, those acts would fill in the winter with vaude
dates. The variety houses had no room to keep the animal acts,
so the owners would keep their animals in the dressing room during
the show, and sleep 'em in a local stable or barn.
European managers always played animal acts and headlined
many of them. They had special entrances and quarters for animals
right in the theater.
There weren't very many wild-animal acts in American vaude.
There were some elephant acts, but few "cat" acts, like lions, tigersr
panthers, and leopards. Even in later years, when there were big
stages and large stage doors, the managers were a bit afraid to play
the wild animals for fear of frightening the women and children.
Me and Aggie will never forget the time we played the Moss;
Lefty's Letters 15S
and Brill house on East Eighty-sixth Street, New York, about thirty-
five years ago. There was a lion act on the bill. Some drunken
assistant forgot to close the door of the cage while they were on
stage and the lions got wise and started to scram through it like
they had a vacation. They went over the foots and through the
side boxes, and you can imagine the panic. The remarkable part of
it was that nobody got hurt by the animals, who went for the exits,
and believe me nobody was in their way, but a few of the audience
were hurt by the panic among themselves. Maybe the lions thought
they were a lousy audience and didn't want anything to do with
them. At the time we were all panicky backstage, but it all ended
up in a laugh. One lion got on the fire escape and jumped into
the skylight of a photographer's next door. The lion was scared
worse than the photographer, and they captured him easily.
By now the cops were out holding back the crowds on Third
Avenue, where a few of the lions were roaming around. They shot
two of them and then spotted one standing outside a saloon on
the West Side of Third Avenue, between Eighty-fourth and
Eighty-fifth streets. There were hundreds of people watching as
the lion scratched himself and then lay down; he didn't seem a bit
worried except when the elevated train went by. The crowd and
cops were tense— and then a drunk who was rushing the growler
staggered through the saloon's swinging doors with a tin pail of
beer in his hand, saw the lion sitting there, and, mistaking him for
a dog, walked over and patted his head and walked on. The lion
never even looked up. He was brought home alive. After this inci-
dent there were no wild-animal acts in vaude for years!
While I'm on a lion kick, I must tell you a couple more experi-
ences me and Aggie had, and to which we have witnesses. While
we were playing a theater in Germantown, Pennsylvania, there was
a certain lion act on the bill (I said certain lion act, because I clon't
want the owner or her heirs to be embarrassed and get notions of
suing). There were three shows a day, one in the afternoon, house
cleared, and two at night. After the matinee we put the feed bag
on and I came back to the theater where everything was dark ex-
cept a tiny pilot light upstage. I made for the stagehands' room,
which was one short flight up from the stage, where a poker game
was going on. The tiny room could hold about five people com-
fortably, but there must have been a dozen guys, stagehands and
actors. To get your cards you had to pass your money via some-
ANIMAL ACTS 157
body and they in turn had to pass you your cards. One guy was
sitting in the wash basin and most of us were against the wall.
There was one tiny window in the room about a foot by fifteen
inches big.
We were all playing penny ante when there was a noise at the
door. Nobody paid any attention to it, but after a half a dozen of
these sounds, someone said, "See who that funny man is at the
door." Someone did—and there was a lion standing there! We all
knew he didn't come to play poker! I don't know exactly what
happened, but I do know that in two seconds there were four guys
on top of me under the table (I wanted to be eaten last), and a
guy weighing 250 pounds had his body halfway through that tiny
window— and don't say it can't be done! Did you ever have a loose
lion facing you? And all through this excitement the lion didn't
even move! In a few minutes (which seemed a whole season to
me) the guy who cleaned the cages and fed the lions between
shows, and who had forgotten to close the door (the drunken bas-
tard), got hold of the lion's mane and took him peacefully back to
the cage. We found out later the lion had no teeth, but you know
the old gag, "A lion can gum you to death!"
To finish this story, and it's God's truth, on Saturday night when
the show closed the lions were put in crates and put on the transfer
wagon (which was horse-drawn in those days) and on the way to
the railroad station, over cobblestones, the pins on the crates jiggled
out and opened the crates. Two lions got out (or fell out), but
they made no fuss, no bother — they just followed the wagon to the
station, where the same drunken attendant put them back in the
crates as if things like that happened every day. Could you blame
the managers for not booking that kind of act?
But there were really some swell cat acts, like Adgie & Her
Lions. She once put mirrors around the big cage to make the set-
ting prettier, and it did, but she didn't rehearse the lions with the
mirrors, so when they got into the cage and got a gander at them-
selves in the glass, they went wild. They had to remove the mirrors
before the act could go on. There were Marck's Lions, Bert Nelson
and His Lioness, Princess Pat, a very fierce animal (if she had
been at that door in Germantown instead of the other one, I
wouldn't be writing you now), Arnaldo's Leopard and Panthers,
Furtell's Jungle Lions, Richard Herman's Jungle Kings, Dolores
Vallecita's Leopards, and Captain Proske's Tigers. When me and
Lefty s Letters s58
Aggie worked on a bill with anything bigger than white mice, we
called it "nervous weeks."
The big elephant acts were Lockhart's, Gruber's, and Powers'
Elephants (Powers' Elephants were for many years at the New York
Hippodrome), Roxie and Baby Rose. And speaking about Powers'
Elephants, here's a story that never was told before except among
a few newspapermen and actors. When my very dear pal Gene
Fowler, the famous author and newspaperman, was made president
of the New York Press Glob, he decided to do something for the
newspapermen's kids on Christmas. In those days the guys had to
work on the one day they would have loved to spend at home.
So Gene staged a big party for the children of the working news-
papermen at the clubrooms, which were on the twenty-first floor
of a West Forty-second Street office building. Besides the Christ-
mas tree, there were many gifts and a big feed, and Gene had
arranged a big surprise: Powers' Baby Rose, a tiny elephant (if you
can call any elephant tiny), who was playing at the New York
Hippodrome at the time, was coming to amuse the kids. If you
remember, Baby Rose was made up with a large white circle
around one eye and wore a clown hat on her head.
Everything was set. The kids were all upstairs and Baby Rose
was delivered at the building, but Gene forgot that she couldn't
go through the elevator door. He asked the starter to open the
other door on the elevator. The starter told him it was screwed
closed and couldn't be opened. Gene couldn't budge him. So he
asked, "Who is your boss?" The guy told him, Gene called the
owner of the building, and he also said no! Then Gene whispered
in the phone a certain story he knew about the gentleman, that
wouldn't look good in the papers (anything to make the kids
happy, even blackmail), and the boss immediately gave orders to
open both doors of the elevator. The elephant got in, the door was
screwed back in place again, on the twenty-first floor they had to
take the door off again, and Rose finally got out. Gene told the
elevator man that it would be at least a couple of hours before
he would need the elevator again. Beaming over what a hit Rosie
would be with the kids, he brought her into the room where the
party was going on— and one kid promptly became hysterical! It
was Gene's own little daughter Jane (now a newspaper exec).
Gene got panicky and yelled, "Help me get this gawdam elephant
out of here!" The elevator didn't answer the ring, since Gene had
ANIMAL ACTS 159
told the man to take a breather, so the only place to put Rosie
was in the men's room (regardless of her sex). They had a tough
time getting her through the door (she was bashful), but finally
made it.
There happened to be in the men's room at the time a very
well-known newspaperman who had just been discharged from
Bellevue's Alcoholic Ward after a three-week siege of the D.T.s.
When he saw the elephant and Gene, he blinked, rubbed his eyes,
and in a low shaky voice said, "Gene, Fm seein' 'em again. I see
an elephantr Gene, who was in a panic because of his daughter
yelling and screaming in the next room, explained hurriedly that
the guy wasn't seeing things; it was a real live elephant. The man
against insisted he saw an elephant, and again Gene told him that
it was really a live elephant he was seeing. The guy kept getting
louder and louder, and so did Gene, who kept telling him it was a
real elephantl Finally the man yelled, "Yeh, Gene, but this one
has a hat on!" They took him back to Bellevue!
Another elephant story that really belongs to vaude is also about
Powers' Elephants. Me and Aggie played Derby, Connecticut, at
the old Sterling Opera House in 1910. It was an "upstairs7' house
with a small stage door that not even a mouse could come through.
So Powers and his beautiful wife Jeanne (who worked the elephant)
brought Roxie up the outside steps and onto the stage from the
front of the house. Roxie walked up the stairs like a baby and
came down the center aisle. They had a heavy plank leading to
the stage, and all the actors (three acts), on stage for rehearsal,
were watching Mr. Powers lead Roxie up the plank. Now Fve
heard a lot of stories about elephants and horses not going over
anything that wasn't safe, but I guess Roxie had never heard those
stories, because the plank didn't have a board to keep it from
slipping and when Roxie was halfway up the plank started to
slip back. Roxie got panicky, jumped down, broke the piano (which
was the orchestra) and three rows of seats, and started to yell (or
whatever an elephant does when he is as scared as we actors were.
"(We didn't yell; we just sent out our laundry.) But Mr. Powers
got the hook they guide the elephant with and tried to calm Roxie
down, which was a very brave thing to do with a scared elephant
(I wouldn't do it with a scared butterfly), and finally he got Roxie
under control. It was an old opry house with a lot of skinny iron
columns holding up the balcony. If Roxie had gotten mad at one
Lefty's Letters ieo
of those columns, the whole place would have come down. The
most wonderful part of the story is that when they finally cleaned
everything up and nailed down a board to keep the plank from
slipping, Roxie went over it like a baby, which is contrary to all
elephant stories. Of course, after the excitement there is always a
laugh. The manager was laid up for the week from the rehearsal
incident, but showed up to pay us off, and me and Aggie con-
gratulated him on the big business Roxie did for him. He said,
"Yes, but from now on I'll never book anything in this house
bigger than a canary'/*
There were not very many equestrian acts in vaude. Transporta-
tion costs were big; special cars were very expensive and it took
twenty-five railroad tickets to get a baggage car, so there were not
over a dozen of these acts that played Big Time. (Few small-time
houses could afford them or had stages big enough for them.)
May Wirth & Family and the Poodles Hanneford Family were
both without a doubt the tops of 'em all, May Wirth as the
greatest straight rider and Poodles Hanneford as a clown rider.
They were both members of old and respected circus families that
date back many many years. There were other swell acts of this
type, like Professor Buckley's Curriculum, Mme. Etoile's Society
Horses (also her boxing stallions), the Davenports (who were bare-
back riders, better known as rosin-backs because they put a lot
of rosin on the animal's backs to keep from slipping off), Ella
Bradna (wife of the famous ring director of Barnum & Bailey's
Circus for almost fifty years) and Fred Derrick, the Buttons (swell
act), the Five Lloyds (who were dressed like Indians), the George
St. Leon Troupe (with Ida, Elsie, Vera, and George—a solid stand-
ard act), and Bostock's Riding School with Lillian St. Leon.
Ida St. Leon played the lead in Polly of the Circus. They all were
headliners with great show biz backgrounds. It's funny (or is it?),
but there was only one Negro who had an equestrian act, and he
never played in America. He was an Australian aborigine by the
name of Harry Cardello, and they tell me he did a very good act.
There are two kinds of horse acts: Liberty and High School.
Liberty work is jumping tricks at liberty— no rider, obeying sign
or command of trainer. A talking, counting, posing, or drill horse
is called Liberty. High School work means with a saddle and riders.
I threw that in for free; thought maybe you'd like to know.
Most of the animal acts in vaude were dogs, ponies, monkeys,
A N I M A L A C T S 161
cats, birds, and "odds and ends/' They were good attractions for
the kids at matinees and even some of the grown-ups let out an
"Ah" once in a while. Frank Stafford had a beautiful posing act
with his dogs; he also was a fine whistler and was assisted by a
beautiful gal, Marie Stone. Wormwood's Dogs and Monkeys were
pioneers. Then there were Meehan's Leaping Dogs, Fred Gerner
& Co., who also had leaping dogs, Stella Morrissini's Leaping
Wolfhounds, and Prof. Harry Parker and Fred. H. Leslie, who
both had leaping-dog acts in 1893. Rin-Tin-Tin, the famous movie
dog, did well in vaude. Ed Vinton & Buster were good; the dog
imitated everything the trainer did. Big Bill Bloomberg's trained
Alaskan dogs did the only act of its kind. Svengali was a mind-
reading dog. Sandow made personal appearance after his hit in pics.
Alice Loretta had statue-posing dogs. Other acts were Alf Royal &
His Dog, Wm. A. McCormick (whose collie barked out arith-
metic lessons), and Professor Duncan's Scotch Collies. Roser's
Aer'al Dogs walked the tight rope. Meredith & Snoozer (white bull
dog) was a standard act. M. S. Ferrero's Dog Musicians played toy
instruments. There were Hector & His Pals (his pals were dogs),
Max & His Gang (his gang were dogs), the Rex Comedy Circus,
and Howard's Dogs and Ponies. Again a story comes to mind
about my favorite clown, Eddie Carr, at Bedford, Massachusetts,
Howard's ponies were on the bill; they were tiny things, and on
rehearsal morning Eddie took one of them and brought him down-
stairs to his dressing room. An Englishman who had just come in
from Canada to play his first date in this country was dressing
with Eddie. Coming to America and doing his first show here
made the guy a bit nervous. He went to the dressing room and
introduced himself to Eddie. He kept looking at the pony tied
to the sink. Finally he said to Eddie, "Yours?" Eddie looked around
at the pony and said, "No. Yours?" The Englishman shook his
head and said, "Good God, no!" "Well/7 said Eddie, "I guess he's
dressing with us." "Why, I never heard of such a thing. I'll tell the
stage manager. I won't stand for it. Why, look what he's done!"
said the Englishman. Eddie looked and said, "I wouldn't kick if
I were you. Last week I dressed with a camel!" By that time,
Howard, half-crazy, came in and grabbed his pony.
I must tell you about a certain dog act (again I don't mention
the name, because the dog is liable to sue or at least bite me).
The man had an act with a lot of dogs performing on a large table.
Lefty's Letters 1S2
At the opening of the act there was a dog standing on a pedestal
who never moved throughout the act; he was like the Washington
Monument. At the finish of the act the curtain came down, and
when it went up again, the trainer turned to the posing dog and
said, "Come on, the act is over/7 and the dog shook himself
and walked off. This of course got a terrific hand because he was in
one position for about fifteen minutes. Well, the gimmick was,
the original dog on the stand was a dummy, and when the curtain
went down the trainer switched the live dog for the dummy. They
looked exactly alike and the live one took the identical pose, but
only had to hold it for a minute. A smart gimmick, eh?
Of all the different animal acts we played with, we liked the
novelty acts best. I'm not taking anything away from the straight
animal acts. We certainly know how much patience and hard work
it takes to train lions, elephants, tigers, horses, monkeys, and dogs.
And it was the trainers that led a dog's life. They were up at all
hours to feed, nurse, and train the animals, and they were never
sure if the animals would come through, because animals couldn't
tell you when they were sick. We especially loved the dog acts.
You won't believe this, but we saw dogs that knew when they went
over big, and when they didn't get a lot of applause for their tricks
they would actually slink back to their positions. We worked with
clown dogs that when they'd get a big laugh would add something
else (not part of the trick) to get another laugh. We saw dogs
that when the acf s music started acted as nervous as fighters; they
knew their "traveling days" and when they got in a new theater.
Honest, they would act different on opening shows. They remem-
bered return dates and seemed to remember the alleys they were
exercised in.
And don't let anyone tell you that any of the animals are mis-
treated (maybe, when they were being trained— maybe, like a bad
kid, they got spanked). But once they were "performers," the
trainer treated 'em like babies, because after all they were his
bread and butter (and sometimes jam). When you went on the
stage with an animal act you never knew what would happen, I
worked with a dog act that on one show refused to do a trick; none
of the dogs would work; they had to ring the curtain down, I don't
know why they refused, neither did the trainer. They just didn't
work. The next show they were great!
Once a guy down in Dallas, Texas, told the local manager that
ANIMAL ACTS 163
he had a great cat act that he had trained in his barn for over a
year and they were very good. The manager told him to bring them
down and show him the act and if it was good he would use it
the first time he had a disappointment. The farmer came down
with a station wagon full of cats. It was early in the morning, the
theater was empty, and there was only a pilot light on the stage.
The cats went through their act, which really was very good and
showed fine training. The manager said he certainly would use
them the first chance he got. During the winter an opening act
was held up by a snowstorm and couldn't make it, so the manager
called in the cat man. He got all set to open the show. The cats
were on their stands, everything was fine, the cue was given for
the lights and music, the curtain went up— and all the cats
scrammed off the stage. It seems the guy forgot to rehearse his cats
with lights and music. I think the cats were later found on a
Major Bowes Unit.
There were a number of bird acts (that's one act that gives the
audience "the bird") . There were a lot of cockatoo acts (they were
easy to train): Swain's Cockatoos, Merle's Cockatoos, Marzella's,
Lamont's, and Wallace's. They walked the wire, rang bells, put
out a fire in a toy house, etc. Very entertaining. There were Mar-
celle's Birds, Camilla's Pigeons, Conrad's Pigeons, and of course
Olympia DesVall's was the best bird act of them all. There was
also Torcat's & Flora D'Aliza's Educated Roosters, followed by
Kurtis's Educated Roosters. (All through vaudeville history, when
a certain type act made good, there were many copies.)
Among the best bear acts were Pallenburg's Bears, Alber's Ten
Polar Bears, Batty's Bears, and Spessardy's Bears. All well trained.
Monkeys, especially apes and chimps, were good drawing cards,
and even the trainers never knew what they were liable to ad-lib.
Wormwood's Monkeys were among the first trained monkey acts,
and Belle Hathaway's acts also go way back. She had one act where
a baboon would catch plates thrown at him, A great act. There
were Gillette's Baboons and Monkeys in "A Day at the Races"
(the monkeys acted as jockeys), Norris' Baboons in "A Monkey
Romance" (opened with a pantomime romantic scene between
two monkeys— very funny) , and Jean Clairemont's Circus Monkeys
(monks on the dogs' backs and also dummy figures on ponies'
backs). MaCart's Monkeys had 'em riding autos and bicycles. La
Lefty's Letters 164
Bella Pola was a chimp that danced the Charleston, varsity drag,
etc.
It was "Consul the Great" that put the chimp acts on the vaude
map. (Alfred the Great, another chimp, also claimed to be the
first.) Consul received tremendous publicity. He had many copies;
one ape was called Consuline. (How close can you get?) There was
another good chimp, Peter the Great, who was billed as "Born a
monkey, made himself a man!" He later was called Consul Peter
the Great (after Consul became a hit). And there were Alfred the
First (get the angle of making people believe he was the first) and
Mende, a very clever but a very mean chimp, who when he died
was replaced by Buster, a great chimp owned by Jane and Kathryn
Lee. They all practically did the same routines, like riding a bicycle,
smoking, eating with a knife and fork, saying their prayers, doing
acrobatics, writing on a typewriter, etc. Still Consul stood out and
was without a doubt the greatest drawing card of all the animal
acts!
Talking about Consul, when he first showed at Hammerstein's,
an actor saw his opening show. He came back to the White Rats
Club and raved to a brother actor about what a wonderful act
Consul was. "Why, he eats with a knife and fork, smokes a cigar,
writes on a typewriter, etc. etc." The other guy doubted it; he had
never heard of a chimp doing those things. "O.K.," said the first
actor, "I'll get a couple of Oakley's from Willie and you can sec
for yourself, and if Consul is all I said he was, the drinks are on
you." What he didn't know was that Consul was taken ill after
the matinee and was replaced by another headliner, who happened
to be the international storyteller, Marshall P. Wilder. As every-
body knows, Mr. Wilder was sort of a dwarf; he was about four
feet high and was hunchbacked. The two actors, seated in the
orchestra and not knowing about the change in headliners, saw-
Marshall P. Wilder walk out and say, "Ladies and gentlemen . . ."
The actor turned to his doubting friend and said, "Geezus, they
got him talkingl"
We especially liked the "goofy'acts," as me and Aggie called 'em,
like Gordon Bros., Jeff, who was a boxing kangaroo, Swain's Alli-
gators, bears like Moxey, the wrestling bear, Big Jim, the skating
and dancing bear, Alice and Lolette, who also did dancing— they
all claimed to be the first. A novelty animal act, like any other
novelty act, could get more dough, so all trainers tried to get some-
ANIMAL ACTS 165
thing new and many of 'em succeeded. Way back in 1893
Leon had two donkeys called Jack and Jill that sang(?). The or-
chestra played loud music and the mules brayed, which passed for
singing (as it does today with some humans). This was followed
by singing dogs, singing wolves, and Rossi's Musical Horse, who
also laughed! They all had the same technique; the "dancing"
animals did the same movements to every dance; the only thing
that was changed was the music, and it always appeared like the
animal was doing the particular dance the music was playing.
(Lots of human dancing acts do the same routines to different
music and that makes them look like different dances.)
In 1897 there was an educated horse called Beautiful Jim Key,
who would spell names, pick out any letter in the alphabet, play-
ing card, or number asked for, use the telephone, make change,
file letters, and play the organ. He was the main attraction with the
John Philip Sousa road show.
We liked Guy Weadick's "Stampede," which was the first rodeo
in vaudeville, and Muldoon with his champion wrestling pony.
We liked E, Merian's Pantomimic Dogs, who presented a one-act
drama, "A Faithless Woman/' and Hughling's Seals, especially
Sharkey, who was almost human; he juggled and played chimes and
was one of the first to applaud himself. Rosina Coseli's Midget
Wonders were a gang of Chihuahua dogs; they'd go off the stage
in a toy auto and after they were off there would be a big explosion
and the tiny dogs would come back pushing the tiny auto. Then
there was Don, the "Talking Dog/' (John Coleman claimed that
his dog Roj was the first talking dog; he was playing the Orpheum
Circuit while Don was in Europe. He didn't stand a chance, be-
cause Don beat him to New York and received his publicity via
the great Willie Hammerstein.) Don was a hit only because of
Loney Haskell, the assistant manager and M.C. of Hammerstein's.
I heard Don struggle with words, and all I could understand, using
my imagination, was "Hunger" and "Kiichen" (Hunger and Cake) ;
that's the only German I knew, and I'm still not sure if he said it
or not, but I am sure of the laughs Loney Haskell got talking about
Don. He had to travel all over the circuit with Don to put him
ovei.
Another great novelty act was Barnold's Drunken Dog, who did
a drunk almost as good as Jim Barton. He was signed by Klaw &
Erlanger during their Advanced Vaudeville trip for $1,000 a week.
Lefty's Letters 16S
He played at Hammerstein's for $300 before that. Barnold was the
highest-priced animal act at that time, the previous one being
Lockhart's Elephants. There were many copies of this act. Officer
Yokes had a great drunken dog too. Jenny Conchas had a fine
posing-dog act; the dog smoked, changed costumes, and his face
went great with the different costumes for plenty of laughs.
Maude Rochez's "Night in a Monkey Music Hall" was really a
great novelty act. There was no trainer on stage. There was an
orchestra pit, where the monkey "leader" kept turning over the
music, and the monkeys played a "sketch/' did a trapeze act,
danced, etc.— really funny and great! There were La Valliere's
Football Dogs; they had a wire strung across stage with a ball on it
and when the trainer blew the whistle the dogs would jump in the
air and butt the ball and the ones who butted the ball to their goal
won! Another novel dog act was Dick, a dog who drew with pen
and ink. He had a fountain pen tied to his paw and really drew
pictures.
May Barkley's "Bulldog Music Hall" was a lot like the "Monkey
Music Hall," only done by dogs. She had a mechanical orchestra
on a small stage, three dogs appeared in tabloids and posing, and
she also used a lot of dummy dogs and it was hard to tell the real
ones from the dummies. John Agee had a trained bull and horse.
"Gautier's Bricklayers" made a terrific hit lately in TV. It is one
of the greatest trained dog acts that ever was in vaude. Dogs
work without a trainer on stage. It's a funny thing about this act.
Mr. Gautier's father, a great dog trainer, did this act many years
ago and just about got by with it, so when he retired he stored the
scenery and props away in his barn. Years after, his son, who was
doing "Gautier's Toy Shop" (a swell act for years), figured he
would revive the father's act, so dug up the props etc. and put it on.
It became a sensation, not only on the stage but in TV, and was
rated as one of the greatest novelty animal acts.
There was Swain's Cats and Rats, a very interesting act (they
must have fed the cats before the show) . Haveman's Animals was
the first act I ever saw where the tiger licked the trainer's face and
the trainer wrestled with a full-grown lion. After seeing that one,
me and Aggie decided we'd never earn our living kissing tigers
(kissing agents was bad enough). Apdale's Animals had a chariot
race, with dogs made up like horses and monkeys as the drivers.
Torcat's Roosters boxed and rode a dummy horse. Wormwood's
ANIMAL ACTS 167
dogs rode a bicycle race for a finish. Al Mardo had a "lazy" dog
who would take his time doing his tricks— a very funny act. Nelson
had boxing cats, while Coleman had one of his cats jump from a
basket way up in the flies into his arms.
In 1911 we worked with a very funny monkey act, Gillette's
Dogs and Monkeys; in this act Adam and Eve were bowling mon-
keys. Adam would make a strike or spare and a monkey pin boy
would set up the pins and return the ball. After each play Adam
would order a drink, and he got drunker and drunker as the game
went along and finally tore up the joint (a very funny act)! In
Charles Baron's Burlesque Menagerie the dogs were disguised as
wild animals; the big laugh was when the dachshund, made up as
an alligator, was brought on with a rope.
Rhinelander's Pigs had a trainer dressed as a butcher; he had
the pigs go through simple tricks like walking up and down stairs
on their hind legs, sitting down, forming pyramids, playing see-
saw, etc. But the funniest part of the act was when the pigs would
"balk" at doing a trick. He would take out a big butcher knife and
start sharpening it on a whetstone, and the pigs, seeing this, imme-
diately did the trick! The Butting Ram act had five goats and two
pigs; they too would go through simple tricks and the goats at the
finish would butt the trainer all over the stage. He did do a very
funny bit. He came out dressed in a Prince Albert coat, and so as
not to get it dirty took it off, rolled it up, and stuck it in his pants
pocket. It didn't make the big bulge it should have, and had the
audience guessing all through the act as to what happened to the
coat and why it didn't show in his pocket! There's a story that
goes with this act that I just must tell you. One show a "clown"
on the bill (no, it was not Eddie Carr this time) had an idea and
he painted a very prominent part of the goat with gold paint; when
the goat went on and turned its back to the audience, the laughs
were so big that the trainer got panicky — he never did get wise until
later. When he came off stage, he said, "That's the best owdience
I hef never blayed tu. They know someding's good." I wonder what
he said when he discovered the gold paint?
White, Black & Useless, the latter a mule, had a great comedy
act where the men were trying to "shoe" the mule. Cliff Berzac's
Circus was very funny, with a bucking mule; people from the audi-
ence were invited to ride him for a reward and of course the
stooges came up and were very funny. This had been done for years
Lefty s Letters 168
in vaude and in circuses, but Berzac was the first to have a turn-
table to try to ride and it really had the customers in hysterics!
One of the really fine and oldest animal acts is Karl Emmy &
His Pets; he is now working night clubs and TV. But the greatest
animal novelty act I ever saw, that never played theaters but was
a big attraction in museums for years, was "The Happy Family/'
There was a large cage on the platform which was covered with
a big cloth between shows. In this large cage were a lion, lamb,
owl, sparrows, cat, dog7 mice, tiger, panther, snakes, pony, monkey
—in fact, almost any animal you could mention, and in the center
sat a beautiful woman on a large throne. There were no fights or
arguments between all these animals that were supposed to hate
each other. What an act that would be as a lesson to the world
today!
As I said before, it took a lot of time and patience on the part
of the trainers to produce these great animal acts. And there was
plenty of danger when you trained wild animals. I used to sit in
the company car on our travel days over the Orpheum Circuit and
talk to a "cage boy" by the name of Slanty. He was a little guy
who wouldn't weigh 115 pounds with anchors in each hand, all
wrinkled up like an accordion, and the last man you would figure
had anything to do with wild animals. He was an old circus and
carny guy and had been with animals all his life; he knew every
gimmick you ever heard of. Slanty and me and Aggie would "beer
it up" some nights after he took care of the "brood/1 as he called
them. I learned a lot about animal acts from him; I was a guy who
always wanted to know about any angle of show biz, and believe
me, this guy Slanty knew plenty. He told me that lions are trained
to roar and make passes at the trainer to make it look more sensa-
tional. That tigers are the most dangerous and unreliable of the
cats— the Royal Bengal tiger is very dangerous and the Indian tiger
you can trust just a little more; they are both vicious, but easy to
train because they have a high I.Q. Leopards are tough to train.
Black panthers are the toughest and most vicious to work with. The
only reason trainers get hurt is that, like airplane pilots, they get
too confident and forget the animals they are working with are
killers!
Elephants are very smart, the same as chimps, but elephants
can't be trusted, Cutting the tusks from an elephant doesn't hurt
them. Vaude acts use female elephants. There are a few guys that
ANIMAL ACTS 169
get "raw" animals and train 'em, then turn 'em over to other
trainers to work in circus and vaude. To me, those original guys
who take a wild beast and train it are the real top guys ( not taking
anything away from the other trainers who work with them for
years); a wild animal is never tamed. Another thing Slanty told
me was that the guy outside the cage, when a trainer is working
with wild animals, doesn't have real bullets in his gun, just blanks.
The reason is that in a circus, if the guy would shoot real bullets
to save the trainer, it might hit somebody in the audience, and
they'd rather lose the life of the trainer than some guy out front
who would sue. But I'm just kidding. It seems that a blank car-
tridge is as good as a real bullet, because it frightens the beast for
a minute — and that's the time the trainer can get out of the jam.
It's funny that me and Aggie knew Slanty for about twenty-five
years, but don't know his right name. (I've nodded hello to guys
on Broadway for over forty years and not only don't know their
names, but don't know what they do.) He never registered at a
hotel because he would "bed" with the animals in the barn. I tried
to draw him out as to who he was or where he came from — you
know, after a few beers you get curious — but he never told me. I
am sure he was no count or baron or lost heir of a big estate; the
guy's English was worse than mine — but he was a real nice guy.
When he got liquored up, his first thought was for his animals.
He'd call 'em by name like they were his kids. He'd make excuses
for the "tough" ones like a mother would for her black sheep. The
only thing I was sure of was that he was Irish; he would drop us
a line once a year on St. Patrick's Day, and would recall when we
were together on that day.
I could listen to his "circus slang" for hours. I once asked him
why he left a certain circus and he said, "No pay-off. I was tired
of working just to hear the band." I asked him what he did in
the winter? "I wear an overcoat," was his answer. He called ele-
phants "rubber cows." Putting the tent up was "getting the rag
in the air." He told me that all the circus and carny guys would
wear white handkerchiefs around their necks so that on a "Hey,
Rube" call they would know each other when they started swing-
ing with stake pins or blackjacks. "Hey, Rube" was the call for
help among circus guys when a "towner" would start to make
trouble. I asked Slanty how did the call start? I've asked many a
circus guy that question and they all give you a hunky-dory answer,
Lefty's Letters 17°
but Slanty gave me an answer that I think sounds pretty true. He
claims that it started when a rube (a farmer or rural guy) was
caught peeking into a gal's dressing room on the lot, and some-
one yelled, "Hey, Rube, what you doing there?" and started beat-
ing him up. That was Slanty's explanation of the expression and
it's the best I've heard.
Here is what he told me about looking for a job with a circus,
in his own real circus slang. "Things are rough and I could use
some scratch—so I asked, 'Do I wear a monkey suit or my own
front? I'll gladly come in on the thumb route. Grind or Bally?' "
Meaning, does he have to talk all the time or only before each
show? "What's the line/' meaning how much salary? "How much
time off to scoff?" or does a guy get a chance to eat in peace?
"Do we work with the 'first-of-the-May' boys?" meaning, will he
be associated with inexperienced helpers? 'Tm great with lame-
brain shows/' which meant he worked with freaks. A "life show"
(incubator baby show) spieler would say, "I worked for 'pickle punks'
at Cooney Ireland/'
A broad was known as a "bree/' a guy, "a gee/' a shill, "a stick/'
and a sucker was always "a monkey."
Me and Aggie liked Slanty a lot and we liked the animals he
took care of— as he did. With a bow to the trainers, me and Aggie
still say all the Slanty guys made it possible to carry on these great
animal acts. Lots of people don't remember Slanty but I'll bet
the elephants do, even if they can't remember vaudeville. SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
Monologists and Entertainers
Dear Joe,
The other day me and Aggie were talking about vaude in general
and nionologists in particular. Practically a lost art today! Why?
Because it was the toughest act to do in the vaude biz. This will
MONOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS 171
probably bring smiles to the faces of the guys and gals that have
watched a guy with no make-up and wearing street clothes stroll
out on the stage and just gab — get big laughs and stroll off — and
not a bit of sweat on his brow. It burned up acrobats, dancers,
sweaty comedians, and guys that had to work physically to get by.
But no other effort in the field of entertainment demanded such
originality or made such heavy demands on the nervous system.
There were maybe fifty thousand acts in show biz (counting the
lay-offs), and there were only five real monologists among them.
Which proves it wasn't an easy racket, or else there would have
been thousands of monologists, because actors like "easy" work!
That's why in the hey-hey days of vaude the monologist was
king! He was envied by all the other performers because he didn't
have to carry any scenery, orchestrations, or wardrobe, and didn't
have to put in hours of practice like acrobats, jugglers, and dancers
had to do. All the monologist needed was a stage (a platform
would do) and an audience. The only music he would use was
something "faked" to bring him on and a few bars (played forte,
to cover up no applause) to take him off. The pit musicians loved
monologists and sketches because it gave them at least twenty
minutes to play pinochle while the act was on. Many of the
monologists never had a regular finish; when they thought they had
done enough time, they'd walk off on the next big laugh\ To the
audience and to many of the actors it looked so easy, but to do a
straight monologue (just gab) was the hardest of all specialties!
The real monologist had to depend on himself. There was no-
body to feed him, no songs or gimmicks to help him, and nobody
to share his "flop sweat." He had to know how to switch routines
when the one he was doing wasn't getting over. He was on his own;
he had nothing to help him but his wit and humor and per-
sonality!
In the early 'yos and '8os, in the days of the honky-tonks and
free and easies, there were hardly any monologists. It was very
noisy in those places and hard for any one man to get attention
from the rowdy audience. They usually did short gags, danced, or
plunked a banjo for insurance. It was later-day variety that devel-
oped the straight monologists. And they really came into their own
when the reserved seat policy came in.
Early monologists worked in blackface, then they did tramp,
Irish, Dutch, Hebe, and Italian characters, and finally did "straight"
Lefty's Letters 172
stuff. A true monologist didn't use songs, parodies, dancing, musical
instruments, or acrobatics to put him over. His job was to get
lausihs through just "gabbing." A storyteller is different from a
real monologist in as much as his stories are disconnected. Same
goes for "topical talkers," who are not really monologists, although
they are according to Noah Webster. But I'm talking show biz,
kid!
The "entertainers" had a half a dozen gimmicks and so were
able to get laughs and applause much easier. You've seen many a
single guy, who would try to be funny for twenty minutes and not
even get a chuckle, finish with a dynamite song or dance or other
gimnrck which was bound to put him over as a hit!
When I tell you these monologists were great, I may tell you
what they did, but you can never write down how they did it!
After all, it was personality that put over 65 per cent of all
monologists, plus good material.
As I said before, a real monologist just did "gab," but there were
a number of guys who, if you don't get too technical, really were
monologists, with 95 per cent of their act consisting of gab, who
finished with a song or dance or other insurance. I am putting
them here because many of them really didn't need anything but
their gab to put them over for laughs, but still they also liked
applause — and the only way to get a lot of it was with insurance!
It's funny that I should start our list (and not in the order of
their importance) with a guy me and Aggie never saw, but after
talking for hours with guys who did know and work with him, or
saw him perform, I respect their judgment enough to believe
he must have been the greatest! So we nominate as the king of
all monologists, J. W. Kelly, "The Rolling Mill Man."
Kelly, who had been a steel-mill worker, would go on the stage,
sometimes take a chair to sit on when he couldn't stand, excuse
himself for sitting down, and ask the audience what they would like
to hear. Any subject called out by the audience provided him with
a monologue that had them howling for a half an hour or more. At
one time he had a continuous run of twenty-five weeks at Tony
Pastor's. (Pastor's was surrounded by saloons; Kelly loved that.)
Stories about him told to me by Junie McCree, Steve Malcy,
J. C. Nugent, and George M. Cohan (they all worked on bills
with him) are fantastic. I realize as we grow older we put on rose-
colored glasses when we talk about the past, but I'll take the word
MONOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS 173
of these guys that Kelly was the greatest ad-libber they ever heard.
Today "fast boys" use stock "ad libs" and parts of routines they
have heard and remember. Not }. W. Kelly! So me and Aggie salute
J. W. Kelly, "The Rolling Mill Man/' a guy who was voted by all
who were fortunate enough to see and hear him as the tops!
George Fuller Golden started as a pug in Michigan, where he
was born, a funny start for a guy who was to become our first
intellectual monologist. He used to dance a bit too, and when he
got tired of punching and being punched, he teamed up with big
Jim Dolan (later Dolan & Lenhar) and did a dancing act. When
they split, Golden did a monologue. He was a handsome guy with
curly hair and a face like a poet (which he was). He read all the
classics and was a great fighter for the rights of others. He founded
the White Rats and fought for the actor all his life. He could rattle
off poetry and chapters of the Bible by the yard.
He was the first American to appear in a command performance
before the King and Queen of England! His monologue consisted
of talking about his friend "Casey." He had Casey one season in
Paris, the next at a wedding, etc. He spoke perfect English (a nov-
elty for a monologist or any actor in those days) . One of his stories
which I remember, and which no doubt you've heard (if you listen
to radio and watch TV), but of which he was the originator was
this one:
"One day I was riding on top of a bus in London with my friend
Casey. I was nearly worn out with several hours of sightseeing, and
the bustle and excitement of the London streets, the hoi polloi,
the Billingsgate, and the rattle were becoming almost unbearable,
when we came in sight of Westminister Abbey. Just as we did so
the chimes burst forth in joyous melody and I said to Casey, 'Isn't
that sublime? Isn't it glorious to hear those chimes pealing and
doesn't it inspire one with renewed vigor?7 Casey leaned over, with
one hand to his ear, and said, Tou'll have to speak a little louder,
George, I can't hear you/ I said, Those magnificent chimes. Do
you not hear them pealing? Do they not imbue you with a feeling
of reverence? Do they not awaken tender memories of the past?'
Casey again leaned forward, and said, 'I can't hear you. You'll have
to talk louder/ I got as close to him as possible and said, 'Do you
not hear the melodious pealing of the chimes? Do they not recall
the salutation of old Trinity on the Sabbath morning? Do they not
take you back to the dim vistas of the past when the world was
Lefty's Letters m
young and touch your heart with a feeling of pathos?' Casey put
his mouth close to my ear and said, 'Those damn bells are making
such a hell of a racket, George, I can't hear you!' "
He was blacklisted by the managers for organizing the White
Rats. He later contracted TB and was taken care of by his fellow
actors, who loved him and what he stood for. Years later, when
he was finally allowed to come back to vaudeville, it was too late.
It wasn't long before he died, and all of show biz "bent a knee" for
him. He was cremated and his ashes were flown above the Statue of
Liberty, where George M. Cohan sprinkled them. A gentle soul
was George Fuller Golden.
Charlie Case was the most original in style and material of all
the monologists I ever saw. He wrote his own material, which was
all about his family: true American humor, exaggeration at its best.
Charlie was partly colored. His mother was a Negro and his father
of Irish stock. While doing his act he would play with a tiny piece
of string. He wouldn't (or couldn't) go on the stage without it,
and one day, when someone stole it, he didn't go on the stage.
Charlie Case suffered more from pirates than almost anyone in
show biz. In fact, entertainers are still using his stuff on radio and
TV, but it's not like Charlie Case. Arthur Hopkins, the noted
producer, said that "Charlie Case was the greatest master of un-
expected statement in the world!" Although light-colored, he
blacked up (as did Bert Williams) and always wore black gloves
and a black suit.
"I was born in Lockport, New York," he'd say. ''But a number
of other cities have claimed me. Take Yonkers and New Rochelle.
They have been arguing about my birthplace for five years. The
Yonkers people claim that I was born in New Rochelle and the
New Rochelle people claim I was born in Yonkers/'
Charlie Case started doing his act in white face in 1910, because,
he said, there were "so many blackface comics around/' He was
working for the Loew Circuit at the time.
He died of what was called a self-inflicted wound while cleaning
his revolver in his room at the Palace Hotel on West Forty-fifth
Street, New York, in 1916. When his wife was notified in Lockport,
she dropped dead!
I believe that Charlie Case and Bert Williams were two of the
greatest artists the Negroes gave to vaudeville. Both were entirely
MONOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS 175
different types, Charlie Case a pure monologist and Bert Williams
a song-and-dance comedian and excellent pantomimist.
James J. Thornton walked out on the stage dressed in a black
Prince Albert, wearing glasses and holding a newspaper in one
hand, and with the other hand he would raise his forefinger over
his head (a la Dr. Munyon) and in a deep rich voice would say,
"One moment, please!" Yep, he was the one and only James Thorn-
ton (later James & Bonnie Thornton). He was known as a pretty
good guy with a bottle and would get a terrific laugh when he
would acknowledge his reception with, "Thank you. I'm glad to
see you soberl" He worked dead-pan, and pronounced every word
clearly and delivered his monologue more like a sermon. He would
sing his own composition, "Sweet Sixteen" (when he was able),
but didn't need any songs or gimmicks to put him over. He was
99 per cent monologist!
There have been many stories told about this great artist but I
like the one about the time he went to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania,
and didn't like his billing and spot on the bill, and told the manager
he was quitting. The manager, all excited, said, "You can't walk
out!" Thornton fixed him with one of his extra-special alcoholic
stares and said, "Christ walked out of Bethlehem. So can James
Thornton!" and left. And I like the time he played in Wilkes-
Barre, Pennsylvania, for Johnny Galvin (one of the real great man-
agers), and Jim wasn't doing very well, but there was a young
comic on the bill who was knocking the audience for a goal at
every show. He came to Jim's dressing room and said, "Mr. Thorn-
ton, you see what a riot I am here. Why can't I get a date in New
York?" Jim looked at him over his glasses and said, "Because you
are a hit in Wilkes-Barre!"
Jim was a well-educated gentleman and a fine artist when he
wasn't under the influence of liquor, and even then could out-
monologue many a sober guy. During prohibition he was playing
the Palace and received a great ovation. In his curtain speech he
said, "I surprised you, eh? I have been on the wagon for a year.
(Great applause.) I see all around me what liquor is doing, and I am
saving rny money . . . (More big applause.) . . . and when I have
enough I shall open a speakeasyl"
Joe Welch was another of the greats. It's strange but true that it
was three gentiles around 1896 who started the "Jew comic" vogue.
But it was Joe Welch, a Hebrew, who practically originated and
Lefty's Letters 176
started the Hebrew monologue. Where the others did bits and
stories of the character, Joe did a complete monologue! Another
funny thing was that the Hebrews in the early variety days did
Irish, Dutch, and blackface.
Joe came on stage to what practically amounted to funeral
music wearing misfit coat and pants, hands in his sleeves, derby
hat over his ears, and beard brushed to a point. He stood center
stage, faced the audience for a half a minute, and with the saddest
look ever on a human pan, said, "Maybe you tink I'm heppy?"
That's all, brother! From then on he took over with a terrific belly-
laugh monologue about his troubles with his family, with hood-
lums, in court, and in business. It was Joe's original story, which
has been in about every joke book in the world, that went, "The
other day I took mine son to a restaurant to get a bowl of zoop.
Jakey commenced to eat and den grabt me by the arm and sed,
Tapeh, dere's a fly in my zoop/ I sed, "Eat der zoop and vait till
you come to the fly, den tell de vaiter and he'll bring you another
bowl of zoop for nudding!" I first saw Joe at Pastor's, then at the
Thalia Theatre on the Bowery in a melodrama called The Peddler,
in which he starred. Nearly all the Jew comics patterned after his
style and delivery. But nobody touched him. He was in a class by
himself— a great and original artist!
Julius Tannen was one of the real great monologists of our time.
(Even Aggie agrees with me on that.) He started in show biz as a
mimic imitating Raymond Hitchcock and especially George M.
Cohan, then turned straight monologist! He had a fine command
of English, but would like to switch in the middle of his mono-
logue into "dese, dose, and dems"-— maybe just to show he was the
same kind of a guy that was sitting up in the gallery. I remember
when a heckler at the old Colonial Theatre yelled something at
him and he said, "Save your breath, you may want it to clean
your glasses later." Some of his famous cracks were, "I was as wel-
come as a wet goat," "Those paper cups that give you a sensation
of drinking out of a letter," "Pardon me for being late— I squeezed
out too much toothpaste and couldn't get it back," "I sent my
collars out to the laundry to be sharpened." (These were all topical
at the time.) Hearing a loud noise backstage, he said, "Sneak
thieves."
Tannen did a general monologue covering matrimony, politics,
news of the day, etc., but all done in regular monologue form. He
MONOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS 177
would walk off on a gag or a poem. A fine wit, a fine gentleman,
and I'll lay you six, two7 and even he can outmonologue anybody
around today!
Fred Niblo was a cultured and original monologist. He was once
the husband of Josephine Cohan, sister of George M. He doesn't
need this identification any more than Josephine has to be identi-
fied as the sister of George M., because they were both great artists
in their own right, Fred was a handsome-looking guy and a "class"
monologist that made 'em laugh plenty.
It was Fred who originated a gag that's been used by many
comics and "unquoted" in many a joke book. "I asked my girl to
marry me. And she told me to go to Father. Now she knew that I
knew her father was dead, and she knew that I knew the life he had
led, and she knew what she meant when she said, 'Go to Father!'
Well, we weren't married!" After leaving vaude, he became one of
the great pic directors in Hollywood. A great monologist and a
great guy.
James J. Corbett, the ex-heavyweight champ of the world, was
the only pugilist who became a top straight monologist! He really
told stories, but they were so cleverly dovetailed that he could
honestly be called a monologist. He was a handsome-looking guy
and was a natural actor. His story that became a classic and has
been repeated in many ways since was about the man who came
backstage to see the champ and insisted he knew him. "Where do
I know you from?" asked Jim. The fan said, "Don't you remember
when you beat John L. Sullivan at New Orleans, you stood on the
back of the train passing through Chicago and there was a big gang
to meet you; there must have been a couple of thousand people?"
"Yeh, I remember that/' said Gentleman Jim. "Well, don't you
remember me? I was the guy with the brown derbyl" That story
became a classic! He loved show folks and vice versa.
Andy Rice did a Jewish character, but with a difference. After
Joe Welch, there were a number of Jewish comics who stuck to
the old make-up, crepe hair, misfit clothes, hat over the ears, etc.,
until a man by the name of Jess Dandy "cleaned up" the character.
He didn't use any of these traditional things. He did what Barney
Bernard and Alexander Carr did many years later in Potash and
Perlmutter. He was a fine monologist, but didn't play vaude very
much, as he made a hit in musical comedy. The next man to bring
even a greater change in Hebrew monologues was Andy Rice. He
Lefty's Letters 178
was dressed immaculately, used just a slight dialect, and, with one
of the greatest monologues ever written by Aaron Hoffman and
delivered plenty good by Andy, added up to a big hit.
He spoke about a wedding. "There were two hundred in the
grand march, we invited one hundred, expected eighty, so we or-
dered supper for fifty! The supper was a success, very little pushing.
The hall was decorated with shamrocks from an Irish ball the night
before. They must have had a great time, because every chair in
the place was broken! We had three detectives watch the presents
and my three brothers watched them! We had fine presents. Rosen-
bloom sent his card, the tailor his bill, Mrs. Bloom a fruit bowl,
cut glass— cut from a dollar to ninety-eight cents! Stein the crockery
man sent six little Steins— and could they eatl The wedding cake
was made like a ship. The little Steins were left alone with it, and
they sunk the shipr
Andy retired as a monologist and became a great comedy writer.
He wrote many reviews and vaude acts and pics. Many Hebe comics
followed Andy's lead and threw away the crepe hair and generally
cleaned up their make-ups.
Rube Dickinson was a different type "rube." In the early days of
variety (and even on the legit stage) the farmer or rube was por-
trayed with a large straw hat, overalls tucked in his boots, a long
chin piece, and a straw in the mouth. He was supposed to be a
"sucker" for "city slickers." Then along came a little fellow dressed
in a Palm Beach suit and a clean Panama hat, with a short neat
white beard and carrying an umbrella. This was Rube Dickinson,
who did a new type "rube" monologue, sort of a wisecracking
farmer. His monologue started a new trend. Instead of the farmer
being a stooge for the "wise city fellers," he turned the tables on
the "slickers."
Rube told about going to a society party in New York. He said,
"What interested me most was the necks of the women. Why,
some of the necks I saw last night reached from the ears down
almost to where the mermaids become fish!" And, "My folks asked
me did I think there was enough going on in New York to amuse
me? And I told 'em I wasn't taking any chances; I'm taking my
checkerboard with me/' And, "There's one thing I didn't do while
in New York, I didn't buy a gold brick— but I'm saving up!"
He always had fresh material and was a big hit. He met an un-
timely death, while^playing Kansas City, when the marquee of the
MONOLOGISTSAND ENTERTAINERS 179
newly built Muelbach Hotel caved in on him. A fine guy and a
great artist!
Tom Lewis, the man who originated the catchword "Twenty-
three" (they added skiddoo to it later) in George M. Cohan's
Little Johnny Jones was an old-time trouper from Frisco with
schooling in the honky-tonks and graduate work at the Palace! He
did an original monologue (which has been copied since — natu-
rally). He would start a thought, but when he got to the point he
never would finish it and would go immediately into another sub-
ject. Of course you could guess the finish of the gag, but he never
actually said it. It was not "pointless" stories but a very funny
monologue, which Jack Donahue revived many years later. Tom
Lewis was a great trouper (he was at one time the blackface comic
of Sam Ryan & Tom Lewis— a hit team) and a real swell guy. He
was the master of his type monologue!
Ben Welch, the very talented brother of Joe, took the other
angle of a Jewish comic. He did a lively, cheerful, wisecracking
Jew, in contrast to his brother Joe's sad Jew. He also made a change
to an Italian character (a very quick ten-second change), and did
both characters very well. He soon discarded the Italian characteri-
zation and just did the Jew. He went to burly and became a star,
but came back to vaude and became a big card on all bills until he
"blacked out." It was never announced to the audience that Ben
was blind; he wanted no sympathy applause, but the audience was
hep. He had to get away from his monologue and do a two-man act.
Frank Murphy, an old burly pal, did straight for him and took
care of him like a baby. Ben was a great comic (when he could see
or when he was blacked out) and Frank Murphy was a great
straight man, besides being a great guy and a loyal pal.
Me and Aggie can remember Ben's entrance; he ran out on stage
shooting a couple of cap pistols.
"I vas to meet her here at halluf past six. It is now five o'clock.
Vile I'm vaitin7 for her, I'll go home! How do you like my suit? A
fine piece of merchandise. I got it in a restaurant. The fellow is still
eating!
"I bought a house in Malaria Junction. A large bingelow mit
eleven rooms and two vindows. A bedroom so large I can change
my shirt in it mitout going outdoors.
"Ve got two kinds of vater— clean and dirty. Steam in the pipes—
in Julyl
Lefty's Letters I8°
"My oldest boy is seventeen years old. He smokes Oakum! He
asks, 'Has anybody got change for a million dollars?' Last night he
bought St. Louis.' He has a little silver pencil he sticks into his
wrist. Last time he stuck it in his arm, he was elected governor.
He stuck it in rny arm, and I paid the rentl"
Two great artists in one family, Joe and Ben. That only happens
once in a great while.
Julian Rose was another great Hebrew monologist, with a famous
monologue, "Levinsky's Wedding." He was a Philadelphia book-
keeper who went into show biz and became a headliner almost
overnight! He was a Jew comedian in the old-school tradition;
make-up heavily exaggerated, baldhead wig7 long beard, etc. But he
had a great low-down monologue that got plenty of belly laughs.
When he wouldn't change his make-up and methods, which be-
came outdated in America (there were no Hebrews left here who
looked or acted like his portrayal), he went to England on spec
and became a favorite and one of their headliners.
He pulled the original line when talking about a Jewish wedding
where Finnegan, the Irish janitor, oozed in and started a fight, "Ah,
he was no fighter, me and my two brothers and a cousin nearly
licked him!"
Once at the old Friars Club I asked him why he didn't change his
act. He said, "Why should I change an act that gets big belly
laughs everytime I do it?" I had no answer.
J. C. Nugent is a guy who's been "booked outta town" for some
years now, but me and Aggie will never forget him, because I
learned a lot about show biz listening to him. He knew plenty. He
started in stock, rep, and medicine shows and went into variety,
with his own written sketches in which he played with his wife,
son, and daughter (Elliott and Ruth), and later with others (as I
told you in the letter about sketches). He was a self-educated guy
and a fine speaker. He had a terrific memory and could rattle off
routines by the hour.
He spark-plugged the first White Rat strike and was blacklisted
oy E. F. Albee. It was the best thing that ever happened to him.
He wrote a play, Kempy, with his son Elliott (now a star and great
Hollywood director) and invited E. F. Albee (the man who black-
listed him) to the opening night. Albee came. J.C. told me that
that was one of the greatest thrills he ever had, to see E. F. Albee
there— and of course the show was a hit!
MONOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS 3181
Nugent in vaude played "neat" drunks (there's a new one); by
that I mean he was always dressed immaculately and was not a
staggering, blubbering drunk, but acted just a bit tipsy. As a monol-
ogist he walked on with white tie and tails, high hat (and of course
pants), and started to rattle off a funny line of classy gab — sort of
philosophical (See what you can do with a Thesaurus?) gab. He was
a lot like Ezra Kendall, not in material or delivery, but because he
kept the chuckles rolling until they became a wave.
He would come on and say, "I'm so glad to be here. Fm lone-
some. I got lonesome in my hotel room this afternoon. I took all
my Christmas presents and— drank half of them." "I'm glad I
was good to my mother when I was a kid. I could never sit around
and see her do all the work. I couldn't stand it— I used to go to
bed!" He would finish up by asking the audience to call out any
subject and he would talk about it for a minute (a la J. W. Kelly—
but only for a minute instead of thirty). He had one of the finest
one-minute talks about the late President Woodrow Wilson that
I ever heard.
I loved the guy. He was a fine gentleman, a fine actor, a fine
writer, and a fine monologist!
Charles "Chic" Sale was one of our great "character" monolo-
gists. His characters were from a country school; he did the teacher
and some of the pupils and the caretaker, and other small-town
characters. His old man playing the "tuby" was a classic. About
ic)o6 Chic came into the Palace with a new act in which he intro-
duced a new character, a small town "smarty" who was always
called the "wise guy." He said, "I'll just tell you a couple of riddles
and make a Vise crack7 before I have to beat it back to the pool-
room." Then he'd take a pair of dice from his pocket and slyly
toss 'em in the air, before spying someone in the audience he knew
and giving a stiff wave (as only he could do it) with a huge hand
and gangly arm. He'd yell, "Hi-yah, Roy. How did you get home
that night? Huh? Oh, you laid right there!" It wasn't long before
the whole country was using the expression, "wise crack" and yell-
ing, "Hi-yah, Roy" to each other.
He had a routine about a Sunday School entertainment with new
steam heat clanking through it, "entertainment with steam," as
the teacher announced it. His little girl character spoke a piece thus,
"Would I fly East? (flying to the right) Would I fly West? (flying
to the left) No, I would fly back South for I love it best— back,
Lefty s Letters 182
back, back, to the land of charm (fluttering back) back, back,
back, where things are warm (bumping into the radiator and burn-
ing her fanny) Ouch! That thing s hotl" It is funny that such a fine
artist, who did so many fine things in vaude, shows, and pictures,
will be known by future generations by a thing he wrote kiddingly
and which sold millions of copies, The Specialist, which in its own
way was great. But me and Aggie think his act was greater!
James J. Morton, the "Boy Comic/* was one of our favorite
people. You just had to laugh at this big 250 pounds of man who
worked with a dead pan and acted as an overgrown kid trying to
make good. Way back in the '905 he did an act with his wife,
Maude Revel. Then he became a monologist; a new type of monol-
ogist, because he sang songs without music and without rhyme. His
poetry had no sense to it and his jokes were pointless, but he made
an audience yell. He was what we in the profesh would call ?
"semi-nut" act. He would come out after an encore and say, "I
am sorry, folks, when I was on the acting shelf (he called the stage
an acting shelf) I left out a couple of lines of the song I sang, so I
will sing 'em now." And he would sing a couple of lines with
absolutely no sense to them. He would talk about the acts on
ahead of him, and in 1906 he did his first job as a professional
M.C. It was at a Ted Marks7 Sunday Concert at the American
Theatre, on West Forty-second Street. Instead of music to bring
him on and take him off, he would just use the drummer. He would
tell you what the next act was going to do, which had nothing to
do with what the act really did. He was a very comical man. I put
him down as a monologist, although he sang a song. Sometimes
he didn't even sing the song, but just explained what the song was
going to be about. He did 98 per cent talk— and what talk!
To us, the most tragic story in the life of Big Jim was the one
about him advertising in all the trade papers for many years that he
was James /". (not James C.) Morton. The James C. Morton was
of the team of Morton & Moore, who carne from burly and played
a lot of vaude, and when they split he did an act with his wife and
kids. There was a great feud between James J. and James C, for
many years. James J. was a big spender, always giving wine parties,
and when vaude was gone and there were fewer and fewer places to
play, he was pretty old and ill and finally decided to spend the rest
of his years in the Actors' Home. It wasn't long before he died.
Sometime later a headstone was placed on his grave. The headstone
MCNOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS 183
read JAMES c. MORTON! It doesn't matter, they were both swell
guys, and I'll bet Big Jim looked down, smiled, and said, "Can you
imagine, after all the advertising I did?"
Frank Fay was made to order for Broadway. He had wit, poise, a
sense of humor, could give out with "asides" that the Palace audi-
ence loved, but which Oshkosh didn't understand and didn't care
about. He certainly was not a "road" comic, unless it was in Chi-
cago, Frisco, Los Angeles, Boston, and Philadelphia. It wasn't that
Frank was too smart for the small towns; it was that they were too
smart for him. They just didn't like a "city slicker/' and Frank was
a city slicker — he was strictly for what we called the "smarties,"
not that they were smart, but they just happened to know "the
language" he spoke.
Frank had a certain something that was really great— but he just
didn't hit the top level in vaude that he should have, I mean way
up there with Jolson, Wynn, Cantor, Benny, Hope, etc. Me and
Aggie never met an actor yet who didn't say Frank Fay was a very
very clever artist. How can you go wrong saying that after you look
at Fay's record!
Walter Brower was one of the smoothest, slickest, cleanest, and
most talented monologists we ever worked with. He came from
Louisville and spoke with a soft Southern accent. He brought fresh-
ness to the old courtship and wedding routines. "The wedding sup-
per was the finest I ever sat down to— I sat down three times. There
was only one chicken and the way everybody made a grab for the legs
was positively disgraceful — although the two I got were delicious!"
He would work in his street clothes, no make-up, but he always
brought a new pair of shoes (wrapped up in a newspaper). He
would put the new shoes on before making his entrance. I asked
him once why he did this. And he said, "Lefty, when you got new
shoes on, you're dressed up!"
He was a standard act for many years, but never got into the big
money and billing class. It was partly his own fault, as he never took
his work seriously. He certainly had a great talent. He would finish
his act with a poem he had written called, "The Prodigal Girl"— a
tear-jerker, but he did it "classy/'
David D. Hall is unknown by that name to the vaude fan because
he never used it. He spent thousands of dollars in advertising
"D.D.H.?" and was known to vaude fans by just those initials.
He brought a new twist to the very old "stump speech," using
Lefty's Letters m
the same props of a stand and book and the method of "yelling
over his points." He was dressed in a professor's mortar and gown
and was supposed to sell encyclopedias. Taking each subject that
was on the page he turned to he talked about it in a highly comical
way. He had great routines. He was going great guns when he was
stricken with TB and had to retire; he never did come back to the
stage. If he went on TV today his material would be as fresh as a
new chorus girl, A fine monologist.
Johnny Burke built up a monologue that became a "cameo of
humor" that outlasted two wars! After World War I he did a
monologue about the troubles of a draftee; he was a riot with it.
The smart guys in show biz began shaking their heads and saying,
"Yeh, yeli, he's a riot now, but what's he gonna do when the war
is over?" Well, he kept on doing the same monologue, with the
same results. The war vets and their families and other people too
were still laughing. Then along came World War II (which I
don't think Johnny's agent started so he could get his commission)
and Johnny got a shot in the arm again. The wise guys shook
their heads again, saying, "Joh-nny can>t da that old stuff- He wil1
have to get an entirely new routine, all about this war." But Johnny
kept the old routine, dressing the same as he always had in a 1917
outfit, and became a bigger hit than before. The new draftees
laughed because they saw there was practically no change in the
"beefs" from the other war!
I know there were minstrel men after the Civil War that talked
about the war, and drafts, etc., and I also know there were some
after the Spanish-American War (like Lou Anger) that talked
about it, but up to the time Johnny first did his monologue there
were just loose gags, no organized routine, and Johnny was the first
to do a complete monologue about the troubles of a draftee. At
first he used his comedy piano playing as insurance, but later cut
it out because he didn't need it; he had a dozen belly-laugh exit
lines!
Nobody did Johnny's routine after World War I7 as they didn't
think it would last, but after World War II there were dozens of
GIs who entertained their fellow GIs in camps with gags about the
war, draftees, tough sergeants, K.P., Big Brass, guard duty, cow-
ardice, heroism, etc. They are sure-fire topics in any war, I don't
believe any of these youngsters ever saw or heard Johnny, and when
they were discharged they started in show biz (having had a taste
MONOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS 185
of getting laughs) and naturally did the stuff they had heard in
the camps. One of them came out with a terrific monologue and
got into the big dough. He is really a top monologist today; his
name is Harvey Stone. But I am only writing about the guys of
the old Palace days. These newies will get plenty of credit years
from now, but I had to put it in. Johnny and Harvey did the same
type monologues, with entirely different material. I doubt if Harvey
ever saw or heard Johnny, but just for the record, Johnny Burke
was the first to do a complete monologue about a draftee.
Joe Laurie, Jr., did a straight monologue talking about his family
and relatives. He'd come on in street clothes, wearing a cap and
smoking a big cigar (his trade mark). He would say "Hello" and
finish with "Good-by." His gimmick was to bring on his father and
mother (?) who were standing in the entrance watching their
son (?). This couple were a fine-looking pair, dressed in street
clothes, no make-up, and they acted as much surprised at being
brought out as the audience was. Joe would talk about them for
fifteen minutes. They never sang, danced, or uttered a word, and
at the finish would just walk off throwing a kiss to the audience.
It was the first and only time stooges were used without doing
anything! He later followed this with a sequel introducing his
"sister Annie" who also stood there without doing anything while
Joe spoke about her and her boy friend. He later added nephews
and nieces who sang and danced (that was when vaude insisted
on "sock finishes/') Joe even did a few steps at the finish (anything
to keep up with the times). But even his dancing didn't help
vaudeville; in fact, some say it helped kill it!
Doc Rockwell, "Quack, quack, quack!7' belongs to the really
great monologists. He, too, was in vaude when you needed (or felt
you needed) insurance to get off big. So Doc used to play a tin
whistle for a finish (and very well too) after gabbing for twenty
straight minutes. But the score of belly laughs he scored proved
he didn't need the tin whistle. I believe it was John Royal, then
manager of Keith's in Cleveland, and a great showman, who had
Doc break in his act at a Rotary Club luncheon in that city. Doc
needed a "spinal column" to illustrate his "lecture." The best the
property man could do was to get him a large banana stalk. Doc
used it, and it was such a big laugh that he never used anything
else. Doc is a fine student, a great reader, and a very intelligent
guy, and his monologue about the human system, medicine, etc.
Lefty's Letters 18S
was not only intelligent but hilarious. Today he comes in for a TV
or radio appearance with his pal Fred Allen to kinda get a little
green stuff to bait his lobster pots with at his place in Boothbay
Harbor, Maine, where he spends most of his time.
In my book, Doc Rockwell brought a new note to the monolo-
gists* art, and was (and is) one of the tops! They don t come any
better.
Johnny Neff (formerly Neff & Starr) was another novelty monol-
ogist. As the proprietor of a music shop, he would start his talk,
holding an instrument in his hand, as if he were going to play it,
and during his gab he would lay the instrument down and pick up
another one. He would go through a half a dozen instruments
without playing any of them, and meanwhile putting over a swell
line of laughs. He did it all so naturally that sometimes someone
in the audience would yell out, "Hey, you forgot to play that
trombone!" (or whatever instrument he happened to lay down).
He certainly brought a new note to monologism. (That's Aggie's
word, and she can't spell either. )
Harry Thompson, 'The Mayor of the Bowery/' was sort of a
rough Walter C. Kelly. He did an act a lot like Kelly's, but instead
of a Southern court as a background, Harry did a night court in
New York City. His characters were rough and very unsubtle (if
you know what I mean) . He was stage-struck and would do an hour
if you let him (and, by the way, keep 'em laughing all the time) .
It was a standing gag that when Thompson went on, the stage
manager would say, "Here, Mayor, is the key; lock up the store
when you're through/' Thompson played very little two-a-day but
was an excellent monologist and a big favorite, especially on the
small time, and in some houses a drawing card.
Taylor Holmes started as a mimic and later became a fine monol-
ogist and also a star in legit. He did the regulation monologue,
using matrimony, courtship, etc., that got plenty of laughs. He fin-
ished with a poem, "Gunga Din," which he used for some time
and got great results with. Along came a young fellow by the name
of Clifton Crawford (a great artist) whom Keith was pushing
along as a headliner, who also put "Gunga Din" in his act. (He
really did it great.) The Keith office asked Taylor Holmes as a favor
to cut out the poem for a few weeks as Crawford was following
him in and it was the top spot of his act and it would take the
edge off, etc., etc. Taylor cut out the poem as a courtesy (and also
MONOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS 187
not to get in wrong with the booking office) . And Crawford be-
came more and more important and "Gunga Din" was his insur-
ance and the audience began calling for him to do it. A few
months later Taylor Holmes thought it was about time to
use the poem again. He did, and was accused of doing "Crawford's
stuff" and had to take it out. You can't argue with the public. It
got so that every act that needed an applause finish used "Gunga
Din"! Some theaters had signs backstage saying, "If you use
'Gunga Din/ don't even unpack!" Taylor Holmes had a fine per-
sonality and plenty of class. (By the way, he was on the opening
show of the Palace.)
"Senator" Ed Ford spoke on topics of the day. He worked with
a dead pan and with a voice almost as deep as Jim Thornton's. He
used perfect English and had his own material that was sure-fire.
He would open his act saying "Although my name is Ford and I
was assembled in Michigan, I am in no way related to that obscure
Middle Western manufacturer who put a radiator on a roller skate
and called it an auto— or manufacturer of knickknacks." He was
sure-fire.
Joe Browning, in his "timely sermon," was another dead-pan
monologist. He dressed in a black Prince Albert, white gloves, and
white tie, and looked and acted like a preacher. Once in a while
he would give out with a "sickly" smile (showing blacked-out
teeth) which was always a yell. His monologue went something
like this. "Brethern and Sistern! The text of my remarks will be
sweet femininity and her relation to the masculine jellyfishl
Woman— woe man\ Man — meaning nothing. Definition of female
—a wonderful invention. Definition of man— a flopl Woman —
feminine. Man — assininel
"Average age of female— Who knows? Male— Who cares? Aver-
age weight of female— about 115 pounds. Above that all scales are
wrong! Nature of female — mostly kind. Nature of Man— mostly
dumbl Woman stands at the altar and promises to love, honor, and
obey— Man promises the same thing but reserves the out-of-town
rights!"
Browning wrote all his own stuff (beside writing many acts for
others) . A sure-fire monologist.
Hugh Dougherty, the famous minstrel, was one of the first to do
a "stump speech" (the oldest form of monologue). All you needed
was a stand and a big book, and to black up and holler like an old
Lefty's Letters !88
Baptist preacher— talk about any subject and to slam home the
point— yell it and hit the bookl It was sure-fire. There were a num-
ber of minstrels who did this type monologue. Then it kinda died
down, until Jack George and Slim Timlin revived it and did very
big with it. They were two very good comics.
Arthur Rigby was a great minstrel monologist who never hit the
headline spots but was a good standard act on the Big Time for
years, with his great monologue and his famous $10,000 challenge
dance. At the finish of his monologue he announced that he would
pay $10,000 to anyone that could beat him dancing. He would go
through a lot of preparation with the orchestra, etc., and go into a
time step, then start doing a "nerve roll" with his left foot, then
try to do it with his right foot, get stuck and go back to the left foot
and a time step, then try his "roll" with his right foot again, and
muff the roll again. He would do this a few times, then finally turn
his back to the audience and do the roll with his left foot, which
was the right one to the audience. It doesn't sound funny in reading
it, but it was a big yok; it must have been or else a half a dozen
comics wouldn't have stolen it. When Rigby got to the end of his
'life route/' he was in his home town of Paterson, New Jersey. A
local priest came to give him the last rites. He asked the priest to
please call Father Leonard of St. Malachy's in New York (the
actors' church) to give him the last rites. The local priest explained
to him, "It's all the same, my son, no matter who gives it to you."
Rigby smiled and said, "Yes, I know, but Father Leonard will fire-
proof me better!"
Loney Haskell was a fine monologist, and one of the best things
he ever did was his "stuttering stuff." He was the first to do what
is now an old gag, about the man who stuttered and asked a news-
boy the way to the depot. The newsboy didn't answer him, and the
man walked away in a rage. A man who was standing nearby,
watching this, asked the boy why he didn't answer the stuttering
man. The kid looked up and said, "Wh-wh-wh-what? And g-g-g-get
my h-h-h-head kn-kn-kn-knocked off?" Loney became better known
when he quit vaude and became an assistant to Willie Hammer-
stein. In that job he acted as M.C. for certain type "freak acts"
and it was through his gab that he helped put many of them over.
His monologue on "Don, the talking dog" was a classic.
Walter Weems did a blackface monologue using perfect Eng-
lish, and a slight Southern accent. He had great material, which he
MONOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS 189
wrote himself. He knew how to get laughs. He also used insurance
in the form of a French horn, which he played very well. Walter
was one of vaudeville's best.
George Roesner, as the "Old Soldier," was also one of the out-
standing vaude character actors. He did an old Civil War veteran
who liked his liquor. It wasn't a new character, but he made it
seem fresh the way he did it. I remember one of his lines, 'Tin
going to town to get drunk— and /iow I dread itl" He was a very
well-educated man— wrote, edited, and published everything for
his monthly magazine, Pan. He would take any side of an argu-
ment. Once he asked an actor, "Do you believe in God? Take
either side/' I remember that when we played on the bill together
at Loew's Greeley Square Theatre in New York he pulled a line on a
heckler that has been claimed by many, but it was Roesner's. When
the heckler got real bad7 George stepped to the footlights and,
pointing to this guy in an upper box, said, "Ladies and Gentlemen,
there you see the greatest argument for birth control!" A delightful
and interesting companion and a swell artist.
Frank Tinney was the most natural comedian I ever saw. He got
more out of a silly line than any comedian I have ever heard. To
tell what he did sounds like nothing (I've heard many imitators —
who failed) . He had the quality of a mischievous kid when he was
telling a joke. He was a great monologist, even though he used
the leader of the orchestra as a foil in part of his act, and also
played the bagpipes for insurance.
He would go to the leader and say, "I'm going to recite some
poetry, I am. Now, you must ask me why I am going to recite
serious poetry? Go ahead and ask me." And the leader would say,
"All right, why are you going to recite serious poetry, Frank?"
"Because I'm ambitious, I am." The leader would then say, "I
don't think it's ambition, Frank, I think it's a hangover." Frank
would look surprised and say, "No it isn't a hangover. Now you
ask me why it isn't a hangover, and I'll answer you. (Turning to
the audience he would whisper, "This is gonna be dirty.") Go
ahead and ask me." "Well, why isn't it a hangover, Frank?" "Be-
cause I was out with you last night, and it was your turn to treat!"
You wouldn't believe he had an audience laughing hysterically
With this sort of stuff. You can't write down a delivery or a person-
ality. He just was great!
Raymond Hitchcock was a lot like Frank Tinney, not as to mate-
Lefty's Letters 19(J
rial and delivery (entirely different), but as to personality. You
just had to see and hear him to appreciate him. With him, espe-
cially, it wasn't what he said but the way he said it; in fact, he
never did have "sock" material. He would speak about almost any-
thing, topics of the day, and during prohibition he did a monologue
on booze, and he always looked as if he was half stewed, without
playing the part of a drunk. The most remarkable thing about
Hitchy was that even some of his best friends believed he was a
drinking man. The truth is, Hitchy never took a drink in his life.
And you can bet on that!
Jack Benny we knew when it was Salisbury & Benny and later
when it was Benny & Woods; he played the violin and his partner
played the piano. When they split, he branched out as a monolo-
gist and became one of the real great ones, using his fiddle for
insurance. He is suave, classy, witty, and can time a gag better than
anyone I have ever seen. Can you say more about a guy, except that
he is a nice guy, too?
Charles Kenna really brought a novelty character to vaude, the
"pitchman." Willie Hammerstein got him right off the street,
where he was doing a "low pitch77 selling a potato peeler, and made
him a standard act. He was plenty original and a natural funny
man. His material was copped by many acts; it got so bad that he
put ads in the trade papers reading, "Please let me know what stuff
of mine you are using, so I won't have to follow you in with the
same material. I'll change mine." It was a subtle way to get back
at the "stealers" and prove to the managers that he was original.
And don't let anybody tell you that the expressions, "It's an old
army game," and "Go away, boy, you're bothering me," belonged
to W. Q Fields. It was Charles Kenna who used both these ex-
pressions in his act many many years before Fields even talked on
the stage. One season, after playing a few dates at Hammerstein's,
he couldn't get any immediate bookings, so he booked himself at
Huber's Museum on East Fourteenth Street, and advertised,
"You've heard of acts coming from Huber's Museum to Hammer-
stein's; this is one guy who is going from Hammerstein's to
Huber's/7 Huber paid him a very big salary (for Huber) , but he
had to do at least eight shows a day to get it. He had a funny song
he'd finish with, but didn't need it. A natural funny man was this
guy Kenna!
Bert Swor, an old and dear friend, was one of the vet comedians
MONOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS 191
of minstrelsy and worked in vaude when he wasn't starring in Al
Field's Minstrels— a great trouper who started in honky-tonks and
reached stardom. He was the original partner of Charlie Mack
(Swor & Mack); Charlie later became the owner of the "Two
Black Crows" (Moran & Mack) . Bert had a very funny monologue.
In it he would take out an old piece of butcher's wrapping paper
and say, "Just Sot a fetter from home/7 Then he would read the
letter, which was plenty funny and got plenty of belly laughs and
at the finish he would read, "God bless and keep you— from your
loving Maw and Paw." Yeh, I know you've heard the comics use
this on radio and TV, but it was Bert Swor who originated it. Bert,
like many others I have mentioned, did a 99 per cent monologue
and used a song or even a short dance for a finish. A very funny
man was Bert Swor.
Eddie Foyer was a peculiar type of monologist. He did straight
talk, no songs or dancing, but most of his act consisted of reciting
poems. He would open with a routine about how a tough waiter in
a tough restaurant would call out the orders to the cook. When a
customer ordered "two eggs on toast/' he would shout, "Adam
and Eve on a raft— and keep their eyes open." (That meant, don't
turn 'em over.) If someone ordered hash, he'd yell, "Gentleman
wants to take a chance." Another customer would order hash too.
Waiter would yell, "Another sport!" "Waiter, where's my boiled
potato?" "Mrs. Murphy in a sealskin coat!" Etc. etc. After this
routine he would recite "Gunga Din" (always sure-fire), then he
would ask the audience what poem they wanted to hear? He would
do a half a dozen a show, and the audiences loved it, even the
tough audiences. He would recite very theatrically, plenty of ges-
tures and with plenty of voice in the high spots. He once told me he
knew five hundred poems by heart. What a filibustering senator
he would have made!
Ed Wynn, now celebrating his fifty-second year in show biz,
used his crazy inventions as the gimmick for his monologues. He is
one of our greatest buffoons. His billing, "The Perfect Fool/' tells
the story. He wrote his own stuff and prided himself on always
doing a clean act. There never was another Ed Wynn; though many
tried to copy him, they just couldn't do it. He started in vaude and
had many partners, but reached his height when he went on his
own, and became a great comedian and star in musical comedy.
A guy that can last fifty-two years in show biz, and remain up
Lefty's Letters 192
there in lights and big-bracket dough in all the branches of show
biz (with all the terrific competition), must be a very funny man—
which Ed Wynn certainly is!
Beatrice Herford was one of the first real female monologists
and had the field to herself for a long time. I also believe she was
one of the first to do a one-woman show. On concert tours there
were quite a number of women singles who did a lot of gab, mixed
up with songs and dances. But Miss Herford did a straight series
of monologues with no gimmicks! She was really great!
Tom Mahoney, a big heavy-set Irishman, was another one that
gave the old stump speech a new twist. He acted as chairman at
an Irish rally, and instead of a gavel he kept order with a brick\
A fine monologist who got plenty of laughs.
Cliff Gordon represented the real big belly-laugh monologist in
his act, "The German Senator/' which really was another switch
of the stump speech, using timely topics of the day. He did a dumb
"Dutch" orator who tangled up the English language (as all Ger-
man comics did), and it started a new style of "topics of the day"
talkers. It had been done before Cliff Gordon, but never in his
"excited" style. He would start off on a subject quietly, but by the
time he got to the point he would be so excited that he'd get the
whole thing balled up. He had great material, fresh as a baby's
breath, written by the greatest comedy writer of his time, Aaron
Hoffman. When the Lusitania was launched, Cliff said,
"This is surely a great country we live in, full of mountains,
valleys, and bluffsl This is a great age. Look at the Lusitanid with
its modern improvements, elevators and everything. All you got to
do when you feel her sinking is to take the elevator upstairs/'
(This was long before the tragic end of the Lusitania.)
When Cliff died, Aaron Hoffman authorized Milt Collins to
cany on with the same monologue (freshened weekly by Mr. Hoff-
man), and also "Senator" Murphy (who is still doing it as an
afterdinner speech). They were both great performers and got
plenty of laughs, but it just wasn't Cliff! By the way, Cliff's right
name was Saltpeter; his brother was at one time the head booker
of the Orpheum Circuit, besides having a great background as a
vaude agent and vaude-act producer (Lewis & Gordon), and a
pretty swell guy in his own right, but Max will tell you that Cliff
was not only tops in vaude but also tops of the family!
Harry Breen was born on the Lower East Side of New York City,
MONOLOGISTSAND ENTERTAINERS 193
and talked about the people that lived there; it was really very
funny. His recollections of the East Side got just as many laughs
out of town, because they were funny in a folksy way. Breen did a
sort of semi-nut act. He was a writer of songs and acts, and was the
best of the extemporaneous singers. He would pick out people in
the audience and sing about them, which had been done before,
but Harry did it just a little better. Like:
"There's a lady sitting over there
In the second row on the third chair.
She has her hand up to her face,
And the hat she has on is a disgrace."
He would make up verses about what the audience was doing.
He was a fine artist, and what a guy in a gabfest!
James Richmond Glenroy originally did a double act with his
wife (Richmond & Glenroy); on her death he took the name of
James Richmond Glenroy and did a monologue. He was billed
as the "Man with the Green Gloves." (Guess why? Yop, because
he wore green gloves.) He introduced a new kind of monologue,
using epitaphs that he read in cemeteries — for laughs (and got
plenty) ! Like:
"Rum is a curse, and many it kills;
But this unfortunate took some pills."
(Aside he would say, "A foolish move on his part, I'm sure."
"Off a fast-moving car stepped Lizzie Russell;
Too bad she didn't wear a bustle."
"Here lies my husband, Harold Cain,
Let him rest in peace till we meet again."
"Here's where the body of Mary Nash is,
She ran a boardinghouse;
Peace to her "hashes'."
"A bulldog chased Eliza Fair,
It bit her on her — never-mind-where."
Jim was a very funny man even off stage.
Walter C. Kelly, "The Virginia Judge," was the greatest dialecti-
cian of his time. He could do any dialect and do them all great.
He would come on stage dressed in an alpaca coat, walk over to
Lefty s Letters IM
the table, pick up the gavel and imitate an Irishman as the court
crier: "Hear ye? hear ye, the court of the Great Sovereign State of
Virginia is now opened!" He then would act as judge of a small
Southern town, and as the different cases came up he would speak
in the different dialects of the defendants and plaintiffs.
"You here agin, Lem? What you do this time?"
"Ah din t do nothing Jedge. The railroad run over my mule and
killed him and they won't pay me. They won't even give me back
my rope."
"What rope?"
"Why, Jedge, de rope ah done tied de mule on the track wif ."
"Go on now, you're lucky I don't have you hung with it. Get
out! Next case. . . . Well, Sam, I see where you are charged by
Milligan, the arresting officer, with stealing a watch. What have
you got to say for yourself?"
"Jedge, I jes' wanted to know the time."
"The time is five yearsl Take him away, Joe."
For a finish he would imitate a small Negro boy: "Say, Jedge,
Colonel Stevens wants to know if you want to go fishin'; he sez
they're bitin' pretty good."
"All right, tell him I'll be right along. Court adjourned!"
He was born in Philadelphia but spoke in a fine Southern drawl.
He was a big hit in Europe and also played in legit shows.
Will Rogers, I believe, was the greatest of them all (as long as
we put the "topics of the day" guys in the list and also the guys
who used insurance). He used a rope; certainly didn't need it7 but
he never gave it up. I told you about J. W. Kelly, "The Rolling
Mill Man/' and I don't doubt that what my friends told me about
him was true, but this guy Rogers we all saw and heard and knew.
He was in our time. We know that in the Ziegfeld Follies he
changed his act every show for a year. He wrote columns for the
papers that are just as fresh today as they were twenty-five years
ago. That proves something. In our time nobody that I know of
touched him for a combination of humor, grass-root philosophy,
and ready wit. He capsuled whole editorials into a few lines— and
got laughs out of truths. He also knew his Broadwayites and how
to talk to them— and best of all knew how to talk to the folks
everyplace else.
There have been so many guys who claimed they got Bill "to
talk." I was pretty close to the guy and, believe me, you didn't
MONOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS 135
have to get him to talk. Fm a pretty good gabber myself, but the
guy outfoxed me many a time. To settle all arguments, here is
what Bill told me and Aggie and Al Ochs (a buddy of his, now a
Hollywood agent) one night in our room at the Sylvania Hotel
in Philadelphia.
He started out doing a straight roping act, then added a horse
and rider, etc. Well, one day he missed a trick (as you know, he
was really a great roper), and he made some remark (which he
didn't remember) ; all he knew was that it got a laugh. Now, in
those days when a "dumb act" (which he was) got a laugh, it
meant a lot. The next show he kept in that "miss," and made a
new crack, and little by little he kept adding laughs to his "misses."
Getting a laugh for a dumb act is the worst thing that can happen
to them; they begin to believe they are comedians. Well, Bill got
better and better and added "side remarks" (not routines) and for
fresh material looked in the papers and soon started remarking,
"All I know is what I see in the papers," and started talking about
topics of the day. With his natural wit and humor, he soon real-
ized that his roping was just a side line or insurance. Now Joe,
doesn't this sound truer than those other claims, like, "Ziggy made
him talk," when he already had been talking for years and had
appeared in a legit musical show, The Wall Street Girl? It was his
talking that made Ziggy buy him.
His monument out in Oklahoma not only stands for a great
American but a fine philosopher and the greatest stage "topics of
the day" gabber of our time!
I know you are gonna tell me that I left out a lot of monologists
— guys like Heywood Broun, who really did a great monologue at
the Palace, and Bugs Baer, who could have been one of the best,
but he liked printer's ink better. I am sure you'll find most of 'em
in some of my other letters. I just wanted to give you an idea of
the many great gabbers vaude had.
As for the "entertainers" in vaude, we had thousands of 'em! I
mean the single-men entertainers who sang, talked, danced, played
instruments, gabbed, used stooges and plants, and did acrobatics
and even paper tearing. These I separate from the straight
monologists, although many of these entertainers did swell talk
routines, but they depended more on songs, dancing, etc. Most of
them were what we call "socko" acts, and would hold down the
next-to-closing spots, which is an honor spot. It didn't mean that
Lefty's Letters I9€
you were a headline! or got the most money of the show, but it
did mean that the hooker figured you could follow a hit show and
"hold 7em in" after a bad show. Both tough jobs for an act away
down on the bill. The next-to-closing act got good dough and good
billing (if it didn't happen to be the headliner). There were few
men headliners, compared to the number of them in show biz.
Many were split headlineis, not strong enough at the box office to
go it alone, so would split headline honors with another act. But
most of the good ones were features or bottom, special, and added
attractions.
The average single man was a crazy guy, traveling alone (some
were married, of course, and even carried their "excess baggage''
with them) , but most of them were on the loose. They had no prob-
lems of scenery, costumes, or make-up. They had nobody to take
half the blame when they flopped. Between you and me, many
men singles (and that goes for many acts too) had a good open-
ing and, what was more important, a smash finish, and in between
used a lot of baloney or what we called "time-wasters." Many an
act got over because of a great finish, with nothing real good ahead
of it But the hookers could never forget the big applause that
may have earned the act a half a dozen bends at the finish, which
means a hitl
Everybody introduced today is called a "headliner." The truth is
that there were few headliners, especially single-men entertainers.
There were many standard acts that played vaude season after
season and were plenty good. There were single men who came
from a hit show and naturally were headlined (or co-headlined) to
take advantage of their box-ofEce value at the moment. These are
what we called "strays"; they would just play vaude between shows.
Many regular standard acts would be headlined in the smaller
towns, especially if you just came from the Palace. (I saw an acro-
batic act headlined in a small town because they had played the
Palace.) But when they got back to New York and the regular big-
time circuit, they would go back to their regular billing. The aver-
age single man was free from sex appeal and had to depend on
being funny or entertaining.
Al Jolson was the greatest of all American entertainers. Al started
with an act, Jolson, Palmer & Jolson. (Palmer worked from a wheel
chair.) Then Al went out and did a single blackface act on the
Sullivan & Considine Circuit. He ran ads in the trade papers read-
MONOLOGISTS AND ENTERTAINERS l&
ing, "You never heard of me, but you will!" (He was a great hit
on the Circuit.) Then he joined Dockstader's Minstrels, in which
he was a riot. He went over so big that Dockstader gave up his own
next-to-closing spot to AL (And Lew was a great big favorite— but
realized he couldn't follow this kid, who was just great.) When
the show laid off, Al played Hammerstein's and was a riot, played a
few more vaude weeks, then rejoined the Dockstader show. He
then signed with the Shuberts, and a few years later plaved a week
at Brighton Beach for $2,500. He never played the Palace (just
got up one Sunday night, at the request of Dave Apollon, the
M.C., and sang a few songs) . It was many years later that he made
a tour of the pic houses and broke records. Just a dynamite guy!
We figure that Sir Harry Lauder was the greatest of all inter-
national entertainers because he played as a headliner all over the
world and always in vaude. Jolson and Lauder were two entirely
different types. Lauder was deliberate and slow, while Jolson was
nervous and fast. Lauder received four and five thousand dollars
a week for many many years and broke BO records all over the
world. They were two great artists. Al got the edge on Lauder for
publicity when he was on radio and in pics (which went all over
the world). But I am only telling you about vaude, and as for
vaude, there is no argument that Lauder was the greatest (Jolson
didn't play enough vaude to really compare) . Harry Lauder never
played the Palace, either!
Some of our great entertainers were Englishmen, like Wilkie
Bard, Albert Chevalier, Clifton Crawford, George Lashwood,
Will Fyfe, and Laddie Cliff.
But we had plenty of American artists who could match them as
entertainers. I am not mentioning them in the order of their im-
portance, no more than I did in my other letters to you; it wouldn't
be fair and it would take an awful lot of hard work, and besides it
would only be our own opinion! Me and Aggie figure that the top
all-round artist of today is Jim Barton, who was a burly comic, a
skater, a storyteller, a dancer, a singer, a dramatic actor, and a pic,
radio, and TV star. He can also play an instrument and baseball!
There were many single men that could do many more things, but
Jim was tops in all the things he did! I know I won't have room
to name all the great single-men entertainers, but here are a few
that come to mind (see if you agree): Eddie Cantor, Joe Cook,
Henry E. Dixie, Lew Dockstader, Honey Boy Evans, Joe Frisco,
Lefty's Letters 198
Eddie Foy, Sr., Frank Fay, Bunny Granville, Ralph Hertz, Will
Mahoney, George Price, Jack Norworth, Pat Rooney, Sr., Harry
Richznan, Ted Lewis, Bill Robinson, Nat Wills, Willie Weston,
Emest Hogan, Richard Carle, Fred Allen, Phil Baker, Milton Berle,
Ben Bemie, Sam Bernard, Billy ''Single" Clifford, Richie Craig, Jr.,
Thomas Potter Dunn, Jack Donahue, Eddie Dowling, Harry Delf,
Billy Glason, Bob Hall, Bob Hope, Jimmy Hussey, Bert Hanlon,
Al Herman, George Jessel, Henry "Squigiluin" Lewis, Harry B.
Lester, Hal Neiman, Oscar Lorraine, Will Morrisey, Ken Murray,
Carl McCullough, George Munroe, Bobby North, Blackface Eddie
Ross, Herman Timberg, Billy B. Van, Violinsky, Al B. White,
Harry Fox, Dave Ferguson, George Beatty, and William Dillon,
and of course the one and only Bert Williams. ( Yeh, I know, there
are at least 250 more that should be in this list. But the publisher
yells about the cost of paper. The guy never saw real vaudeville.)
Storytelling was a specialty. I don't mean the single guys who
threw in a story in their act, but the men that were specialists in
the art (believe me, it is an art) . They, too, were monologists in a
way, depending only on gab— but as I told you before, they didn't
have a plot, or continuity; they jumped from one story to another.
Some put cement in between stories; by that I mean they hooked
'em together by saying, "Then there was another little Irish-
man . . ." or "That reminds me . . " etc. But there were a few
really great storytellers in vaude.
Leo Carrillo specialized in Chinese stories and did them the best;
he was raised in California among them. (Billy Gaxton, his relative,
also does swell Chinese stories — off stage.) Frank Fogarty was one
of the fastest Irish storytellers; he was usually two stories ahead of
the audience— a great teller of tales. Harry Hershfield, I believe,
knows more stories than anyone in show biz, and is one of our
experts in that line. Lou Holtz I certainly must put among the
storytellers, and the great ones, too, although he used his song
**O Sole Mio" for a finish, while the others just walked off. Walter
C. Kelly, "The Virginia Judge/' had no equal in his particular line;
he could do any dialect, while many of the others were limited.
Robert Emmett Keane was swell, as were Dick Knowles and George
Austin Moore (Southern stories). Marshall P. Wilder was a really
great storyteller, but his material was mostly taken from others.
And I am going to mention a guy very few of you know or have
heard of, because he played very little vaude. He was a letter carrier
MONOLOGISTSAND ENTERTAINERS S99
and vaude interfered with his hours, so he mostly played clubs.
But in my humble opinion he was one of the greatest storytellers
I ever heard — Bob Willis. But when you talk about storytellers, you
must mention the pioneer, who remained the greatest for many
many years. He could hold the stage for over a half hour doing
dialect stories and have the audience hysterical. He was one of the
first to do a Hebe character (he was a German, and very eccentric)
and a headliner in his day. He played a tin whistle at the finish of
his act, and musicians wondered at his skill; they claimed nobody
could play the notes he did — but he did it (between shows he
would go around and sell tin whistles in the towns he was playing) .
He was the greatest of 7em all — Frank Bush!
There were entertainers, who were a bit different than the others,
called "nut acts/' They were a vaude craze at one time; every show
had one. Most of 'em were goofy guys off stage as well as on,
Audiences loved 'em because they did the things the audience
would have loved to do, like yelling, screaming, breaking hats,
breaking the bulbs in the footlights, tearing drops, saying anything
that came into their heads (that was first well rehearsed), etc.
Among this private circle of "crazy guys/' the man crowned king
was Bert Fitzgibbons, who started in show biz with his brother in
a musical act (McCoy, Fitzgibbons Trio), later doing a single
that included breaking footlight bulbs etc., singing, talking, sitting
in women's laps, etc. etc.— you just can't explain it, but it had the
audiences roaring and applauding. Many tried to follow his antics
and even tried to top 'em, but a funny side light is that when the
booking office started to charge them for broken foots, torn drops,
and other damage, the "crazy guys" toned down and didn't break
or damage so many things.
Other great nut acts were Ted Healey, Jack Inglis, Neil McKinley
(who would bring out a ladder and sing to a girl in the box), }ack
Rose (who started the breaking of hats), Joe Whitehead, Harry
Rose, and of course the nonviolent nut act, James J. Morton.
Charlie Wilson, "The Loose Nut/' besides his crazy act could play
a good fiddle. Sid Lewis, who worked on the same lines as Fitz-
gibbon, had some funny stuff of his own, Joe Towle, who billed
himself as the "cleanest act in vaudeville/' played a swell comedy
piano and used a keg as a stool. Of course the wildest nut act in
vaude was Frank Van Hoven, billed as "The Mad Magician/'
which he was. He only did a few tricks of magic, but he was a
Lefty's Letters 20°
wild man who kept up a stream of gab with two kids who held
cakes of ice in their hands and whom he tried to get to shake
Iiands as he introduced them to each other.
No, I didn't forget Duffy & Sweeney. They were too crazy to mix
with these normal crazy guys. They say you don't have to be crazy
to be an actor, but it helps! Well, these nut acts sure proved it.
They were swell company; you never knew what they were going
to do next, which is pretty interesting, especially when you are
young.
I realize there are hundreds of entertainers who played in vaude
for years, real small time, some who never passed east of the
Mississippi, some never west of it, and they were all a definite part
of vaude (which didn't mean just the Big Time) . Many of them
had talent, but just didn't get the breaks, or didn't look for them.
Maybe they were afraid of the big towns and cities and were satis-
fied playing small towns, working steady, saving a buck, having no
worries, and being happy in knowing a lot of nice folks in the
towns they played. They say actors are different than other people,
to which I say nuts. There are lots of clerks, bookkeepers, auto
workers, plumbers, etc., who have the ability to get ahead in their
biz, but just don't care to move away from the things and people
they feel comfortable with. They aren't built to "take a chance."
They aren't gamblers or ambitious. They're satisfied. To kin da
clinch my argument, Aggie just yelled from the kitchen, "How
about country doctors, who have cured and taken care of more
people and know more about medicine than some of the guys with
their shingles up on Park Avenue, but wouldn't exchange places?"
My Aggie is smart.
Love and Kisses SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
THE KEG \o IN VAUDEVILLE 201
The in Vaudeville
Dear Joe,
After the Civil War there were a few Negroes playing in the
nonslave states. Most of them were in minstrel shows and buskin'
in saloons or dancing on streets for throw money. About 1890 there
were plenty colored shows (mostly minstrel). Some of the white
minstrel shows, like Primrose & West, added about twenty-five
Negroes to their white cast of fifty and were a terrific hit. But I
want to tell you about vaude, not minstrelsy.
One of the things that got Negroes into variety was a dance then
known as the "chalk line walk/' which later became a hit as the
Cakewalk. It was not exactly originated by Charles Johnson and
Dora Dean, because the dance was done in many different ways
in minstrel shows and even on plantations, but it was this really
great team of Johnson & Dean who put it on the vaude map, and
for many years they were big features on vaude bills both here and
nil over Europe with their cakewalk! It became a craze and was
taken up by many Negro acts (it was their dance) and sort of
opened the door of variety to them.
Another door opener was the "coon" songs. The first to become
a hit with this type song was Ernest Hogan (his right name was
Reuben Crudus). At one time he had played an end with Bert
Williams in a minstrel show before George Walker joined up with
Williams. In 1897 Hogan did a skit, introducing the cakewalk, in
Ed C. Rice's "Summer Nights" on the Casino Theatre Roof. His
own song "All Coons Look Alike to Me," was one of the first of
that type and really started the craze. In later years he got into a
jam with his own race, who were trying to get him to stop singing
the song because of the word "coon." He kept on using it until
he died. By the way, Hogan was the first Negro to play Morrison's
Rockaway; he played a one-day date there. Ernest Hogan, besides
"being a great artist, was also a fine song writer.
When Williams & Walker first showed at Koster and Bial's, they
were the talk of the town and stayed there for a long run and later
tecame the greats of all Negro performers in or out of vaude.
Lefty's Letters 202
When they were billed at Hammerstein's as co-headliners with
Walter C. Kelly, 'The Virginia Judge7' (he was born in Phila-
delphia), Kelly refused to be on the same bill with Negroes. He
later played there to big biz, as did Williams & Walker. I person-
ally believe it was one of Willie Hammerstein's press stunts, as it
received a lot of publicity for both acts. I knew Walter C. Kelly
very well and played with him on many bills on which there were
Negro acts, and he never complained about them. The only other
incident of this kind that I can recall happened years later (1933),
when Mary Garden made her first pop-priced appearance, splitting
top billing with the Mills Bros. (I believe it was at the Capitol).
Grace Moore, because of this, demanded a no-colored clause in
her contract and Loew called her booking off. The Chase Theatre
(vaude) in Washington, D.C., caused a lot of talk when they
barred Negroes from any part of the house, the only theater in
America to do this. Outside of these few incidents, I have never
known of a color line in vaude. Talent has no color.
With the doors now opened by the cakewalkers and coon shout-
ers, there came to variety many talented Negroes, mostly singers
and dancers, Don't know why, but audiences would applaud a
Negro dancer with inferior talent more than they would a much
better white dancer; maybe it was because the average Negro
dancer showed he enjoyed his work so much and "worked his feet
off/' and that sold it to the audience.
There were many great Negro song writers who went into vaude.
About 1890 there was a contest between song writer Gussie Davis,
a fine Negro ballad writer, and Jim Thornton. A gal by the name
of Helena Mora (a great white singer) sang Jim Thornton's "It
Doesn't Seem Like the Same Old Smile" and Gussie Davis's "Send
Back the Picture and the Old Wedding Ring/7 It came out as a tic.
The funny thing to me was that the Negro was going in for ballads
at the time, instead of the coon songs that they wrote so well and
were such terrific hits. Among the Negro musicians who wrote for
vaudeville and shows were Bob Cole, Bill Johnson, J. Rosamond
Johnson, Irving Jones (remember his great song, "St. Patrick's
Day Is No Day for a Coon?"), Shelton Brooks ("Some of These
Days"), Will Marion Cook, and many others.
There were many colored acts on Broadway. Shows at the Casino
Roof, Koster and Bial's, and the New York Roof were all practically
made up of vaudeville specialties. One of the first Negro acts to
THENEGROINVAUDEVILLE 203
play museums and variety houses was Sam Lucas and his wife. He
was a very talented gentleman and the first Negro to play Uncle
Tom in a white company; he was also a song writer; "Grandfather's
Clock" (still being played) was one of his. In later years he played
the Loew Circuit as a monologist, after starring in many colored
shows. He ended up in pics, playing the part of Uncle Tom. He
had to rescue Little Eva from a river, and he got pneumonia and
died. He was the oldest and most respected of all the Negro per-
formers of his time.
Another great Negro composer was Jim Bland, who wrote many
songs that were sung and danced in (and out) of vaude for years:
"Carry Me Back to Old Virginny," "Them Golden Slippers/' and
"In the Evening by the Moonlight." (All of these made many a
bad quartette sound good!)
Billy Kersands started out in the early '8os; he weighed about
200 pounds and had a real big mouth (Joe E. Brown's mouth is
just a cupid's bow against Kersands'). He did a buck and wing with
two billiard balls in his mouth. He would say, "If they ever made
my mouth bigger they would have to move my ears." He also was
a great tumbler and dancer. His favorite song was "Mary's Gone,"
and besides doing a buck and wing he did a beautiful "essence" to
Stephen Foster's "Sewanee River." In 1911 he made a comeback
on the Loew Circuit; at that time he had five large soda crackers
and a cup and saucer (regulation size) in his mouth while he
danced.
According to the trade papers of 1907 there were 270 colored
people rated as principals and about 1,400 colored performers
altogether in show biz. Eph Thompson, Williams & Walker, Ernest
Hogan, and Cole & Johnson were considered tops.
Many of the standard Negro acts first started in vaude as picka-
ninnies (Ernest Hogan and Jones Bros, started as picks). Single
white singers would have from two to a half a dozen little picks in
their act as insurance for a sock finish. I never saw any picks flop.
Negro performers did more than just singing and dancing; they
contributed their many talents to all lines of vaude. Mr. and Mrs.
Tom Mclntosh did a skit in variety (about 1895) called "The King
of Bivarid"; Tom also did knockabout comedy and played the
drums. Although me and Aggie never did see a Negro do a sketch
in vaude, there were a couple of fine sketch artists back in 1895 —
Al and Mamie Anderson and Charles Hume and May Botrell. I
Lefty's Letters 204
don't know what happened, but there is no record of any more
after that date. (Years later they played many dramatic sketches
at the Lafayette Theatre in Harlem.) Florence Hines was a male
impersonator; the Great Gowongo, a magician; Allie Brown, a
slack-wire walker (I don't know of another one who did this work);
Wilbur Swetnian, a great clarinetist, played vaude for years.
Williams & Walker started out with Walker doing the comedy.
Avery & Hart were practically a copy of W. & W.; Hart was a bar-
tender and doubled up with Dan Avery, who did Walker and
looked like him too (he wore a big diamond ring outside his
gloves). The Holiday Sisters (Grace Holiday and Ada Overton
Walker) were a fine team. Ada, who married George Walker, was
a great soubrette. She did "Salome" in vaude— only Negro who
did it on the Big Time. Cooper & Robinson once made up like
Hebes and did a heavy burlesque dialect, doing an imitation of
Howe and Scott, at Hyde and Behman's. (They split in 1910.)
Bill "Bof angles" Robinson soon became a headliner and star (like
I told you in my letter about dancers). Bojangles' first wife was
Fanny Clay, who worked in a drugstore in Chicago. She would
read him his scripts, as Bill couldn't read or write. He later divorced
her and married Lamme Chase. Both very fine ladies,
Charles Gilpin played a little vaude with the Jubilee Singers
before he became the number one and first Negro dramatic star
in Emperor Jones. Florence Mills worked as a pick in the Bonita
and Lew Hearn act when she was a kid, and later formed the Mills
Sisters (Olivia, Maude, and herself). She was also at one time
part of Cora Green, Ada Smith & Florence Mills, playing the
Pantages Time. Later she went with the Tennessee Ten. U. S.
Thompson was the comic with the act, and they got married and
did a double. She replaced Gertrude Saunders in Shuffle Along, and
was a riot. She played the Palace and was a star with Lew Leslie's
shows until her death. A wonderfully talented gal, besides being
one of the finest ladies we ever met in or out of show biz.
Miller & Lyles, who were Fisk University students, were a real
great comedy act and played all the Big Time as a feature, then
went to London in a review, and came back here to star in their
own show, Shuffle Along, the greatest Negro show we ever saw.
Tom Fletcher played a few vaude dates in the old variety days
and also in regular vaude, but got away from it and became one
of the greatest of the club entertainers. He was hired by million-
THE NEGRO IN VAUDEVILLE 205
aires and society folks for their big parties and yachting trips to
keep them entertained. He could sing songs for hours and hours
and never repeat. A fine artist. Fletcher Henderson & Eubie Blake
once teamed for vaude. Blake later joined Nobel Sissle and they
wrote the music for Shuffle Along* J. W. Cooper was the first Negro
ventriloquist. Frank Rogers was another, as was Johnny Woods.
The Kratons were the only Negro "hoop act/' Janet Collins was
the first ballerina of note; she was half French. James O'Brien was
a fine violinist.
There were many real funny men among the Negro vaude acts.
I've already mentioned some, but IVe just got to name such greats
as Anderson & Goines (Anderson was the father of Eddie, the
famous ''Rochester" of the Jack Benny show, who is not bad him-
self); Buck & Bubbles, who were great in "Weather Clear— Track
Fast" (and Bubbles did swell in Porgy and Bess); Harry Brown,
the first to yell to the audience, "Is everybody happy?" (that was
in 1906); Butler and Sweetie May (better known as Butterbean
and Susie); and Charlie Case, one of our greatest monologists.
Cook & Stevens were a standard big-time act for many years.
Canada Lee played a little vaude, doing songs and comedy. Fiddler
& Shelton were the first Negroes to wear full dress in vaude and
started a vogue (Fiddler was an understudy of Hogan's). There
were Hamtree Harrington (a very funny man) & Cora Green,
Jolly John Larkins (very good), and Arthur Moss & Edward Frye,
who brought a new type of comedy for two-man acts (remember
their "How high is up?") — two very original and funny boys, who
could sing plenty good too. Murphy & Francis billed themselves,
"Though Irish by Name We're Coons by Nature." Rucker & Wini-
fred, Tabor & Green and Epps & Loretta were acts with some more
of the real funny men.
Among the many great Negro singers who appeared in vaude were
the Whitman Sisters, Louis Armstrong, Ralph Dunbar's Maryland
Singers, the Ink Spots, Mamie Smith (first to do records), Mary
Stafford, Josephine Stevens, the Tennessee Ten, Rolfe's Ten Dark
Knights, the Norman Thomas Quintette, Sara Vaughn, Mattie
Wilkes, Ethel Waters (who is not only one of the great song
stylists but also the number one Negro dramatic actress), the Black
Patti, Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith (tops of the blues singers), Abbie
Mitchell, Florence Mills, Maude Mills (her sister), Alice Mackey,
Duke Ellington, Kate Griffin, the Golden Gate Quartette, Ade-
Lefty's Letters 20@
hide Hall, Hodges Lunchmore (who did a feline opera), the
Charioteers, Cab Galloway, George Dewey Washington, Carita
Day, Desmond & Bailey (sister act), Old Time Darkies (big act),
the Watermelon Trust (one of the real great big acts, and also
one of the first), Mildred Bailey, Pearl Bailey, Josephine Baker,
Ella Fitzgerald, and Cole & Johnson. I once asked Bob Cole why
he tossed a large white silk handkerchief from one hand to an-
other and up in the air while he was singing. He said, "Well, you
see, the pipes ain't what they should be, and when I am supposed
to hit a note that I can't, I toss the handkerchief in the air, and
the audience pays more attention to it than to my voice and so
don't notice that I didn't make it." (First time I ever heard of
"misdirection" in singing.) He could sure sing a song, as could my
old friend J. Rosamond Johnson— a real great team.
I think here is the spot for the story you told me about the time
you had your "Memory Lane" act, which was a big act with sixteen
of the great old-timers of vaude in it. They wanted you to play
in Washington, D.C., but wanted you to bring the act without
W. C. Handy, the daddy of the blues, and J. Rosamond Johnson,
as they were afraid that it might cause trouble to have them work-
ing with you and a dozen white men and women. You refused to
play it unless they were with you, as you had already played down
South and had been met by governors, mayors, etc., and Handy
and Johnson had been received better than you (which they rated).
Anyway, the Washington, D.C., manager finally O.K/d the date.
He was a very nervous man before the act went on. It was a terrific
hit. W. C. Handy took three encores (first time it ever happened
in the act) and Rosamond went bigger than ever, too, singing his
"Under the Bamboo Tree." The manager came back after the
show and was tickled to death there had been no trouble, but
asked you to please eliminate just one thing in the act, shaking
hands with the two Negro performers. You refused and kept it in.
What I like most about your story was how you called the
manager backstage every day and showed him the many fine South-
ern ladies and gentlemen who came backstage to see Bill Handy,
and the ladies threw their aims around him while the men shook
his hand heartily. They had known Bill when they were kids, be-
cause he had played at their weddings and birthdays for many years
down in Tennessee, and how happy and gracious they were about
his big-time reputation! I wonder what that manager thought when
PRINTER'S INK AND GREASE PAINT 207
he saw that people don't start riots when they see two decent
people shaking hands, even if one hand is black.
Me and Aggie never met two finer gentlemen in all of show biz
than J. Rosamond Johnson and W. C. Handy, who not only gave
us great music but great friendship.
The Negro contributed plenty of color to vaude in more ways
than one. SEZ
Your pdj
LEFTY
Printer's Ink and Grease Paint
Dear Joe,
Printer's ink and grease paint haven't always mixed well.
Today feuds between actors and critics are practically things of
the past. The critic seldom deals in personalities, and seems to
prefer writing a good notice to a bad one; if he doesn't like the
show or act, he picks on the producer and author, or even the
scenery painter, rather than the actors. I've even seen notices where
the critic was sorry for the actors!
Not so many years ago the critics were pretty cruel, and so were
the actors; they didn't have any paper space to answer back, but
would do it by word of mouth at their clubs, or anyplace some-
one would listen. They talked loudl I won't mention the names of
the critics or the actors who said these things (many of them are
gone, and anyway, why start it all over again?), but here are some
of the things with which they steamed each other up. From the
critics:
"So and So opened at the Orpheum last night. If they are not
lynched this morning, there will be a matinee today/'
"New York sent us one of their magicians last night. He was so
good he made this critic disappear in ten minutes."
"He fell on the stage. The audience was sorry to see him get up
and continue his act."
Lefty's Letters 208
"More acting by the horse and less by the people would help/'
A certain act missed a train and got into Frisco too late for the
matinee. After the night show the local critic wrote, "So and So
arrived late, but not late enough'/'
About a juggling act, "All hands and no feat."
"The kid is growing. It is the only indication of progress in
the act."
"The boys couldn't dance their way off a hot stove."
"The act had something old, nothing new, plenty borrowed, and
laughs are few."
About a foreign dancer, "She left most of her youth abroad."
"So and so sings three songs and wears three suits; the songs are
good ones and his suits are white, brown, and black."
Shortest review ever written for Variety (or any other paper)
about a horse called Napoleon. "Giddap, Napoleon. Small time
bound." (JOLO)
"When a legit loses his voice he goes into vaudeville."
"Vaudeville, a place where a great many bad actors go before
they die."
The actors returned the compliments:
"Why, that paper won't even pan an act unless it advertises."
"That critic is an optimist; he signs his name at the bottom of
bis review."
An actor, getting on the train, to a rural critic who gave him a
bad notice, "When that engine toots, I'll be outside of your
circulation."
"It took me twenty years to perfect my act, and it only took you
thirty seconds to become a critic."
"I didn't mind you panning my act, because today's newspaper
is the toilet paper of tomorrow."
"A critic is a man who can take a clock apart, but doesn't know
enough to put it together."
Oscar Hammerstein was asked about a certain critic, "What
does he write for?" "Like all of them do, for passesl"
"Critic— he's just a pcm-handler."
"A reviewer is a guy whose parents wanted a boy."
"A critic is a newspaperman whose sweetheart ran away with an
actor."
These are just a few samples of the way it was. But they don't
seem to do it anymore. Maybe it's because the critics figure there
PRINTER'S INK AND GREASE PAINT 209
are no personalities like Maurice Barrymore, Richard Bennett,
Arnold Daly, and many others, who, when baited, would answer
them back in kind, which made another column. It is the trade
papers that still criticize vaude acts, but it is constructive criticism.
Most of the playwrights, theatrical press agents, and skit writers
were raised in the nursery of the newspaper world. The temptation
to make more dough has made many newsmen into top-flight
playwrights, producers, managers, press agents, and vaude writers.
A few examples are Jack Lait, Arthur Hopkins, Roy K. Moulton,
W. F. Kirk, Bugs Baer, Bide Dudley, George Ade, S. Jay Kaufman,
Neal O'Hara, and H. I. Phillips, who among them wrote many a
vaude act. There were hundreds of others who wrote for the legit
and musical-comedy stage.
Critics William Winter, J. Austin Fynes, and Alan Dale repre-
sented the drama critics of their day. Acton Davies and Alan Dale
were figured as "eccentrics" of their time. E. D. Price, as "The Man
Behind the Scenes" on the Morning Telegraphy was Broadway's
first theatrical columnist. S. Jay Kaufman was the first columnist
of Broadway to cover everything.
Again space stops me from mentioning the many newspapermen
who contributed their genius to scripting, from a few gags to
sketches, plays, pics, radio, and TV. But to give you an idea of
how important they were, I will mention just a few: Ed Locke
(The Climax) , Ben Hecht, Charles MacArthur, Jack Lait (who
wrote many vaude acts and plays, besides being a top critic on
Variety), Alexander Woollcott, Ring Lardner, Damon Runyon,
Bozeman Bulger, Arthur Hopkins (who as a reporter scooped the
country with the assassination of President McKinley, wrote many
sketches, was press agent, manager, and booked animal acts at Luna
Park, and also produced nearly all the shows starring Jack and
Lionel Barrymore — I know of no man who liked the "theater" any
more than Arthur Hopkins), Paul Armstrong, Anita Loos, Bartlett
Cormack, Bayard Veiller (who was on the Morning Telegraph as
Robert Spears, then went with Proctor as a press agent, later writ-
ing great Broadway hits), Maurine Watkins, Mark Hellinger,
Wilson Mizner, Edna Ferber, Bide Dudley (did an act for four
days at Yonkers), Claire Boothe, George S. Kaufman, Channing
Pollock, Rennold Wolf, Maxwell Anderson, Marc Connelly, Law-
rence Stallings, Morris Ryskind, Russel Grouse, Ward Morehouse,
Don Marquis, J. P. McAvoy, Jo Swerling, Dorothy Parker, Mon-
Lefty s Letters 21°
tague Glass, Max Lief, Allison Smith, Fulton Oursler, Irving Cobb,
Adolph Klauber, John Anderson, Gilbert Gabriel, Charles Emerson
Cook, Eugene O'Neill, George Jean Nathan, Jimmy Montague,
Claude Binyon, Bob Sisk, Joe Bigelow, Jack Conway, Robert Sher-
wood, Walt Whitman, Richard Lockridge, Augustus Thomas, the
Spewacks, and Goodman Ace— and these are just a few of the
many type-stained vets who wrote for show biz!
The Dramatic Mirror (an old trade paper) was an incubator for
celebs. George Tyler, Frederick McKay, Porter Emerson Brown,
Randolph Hartley, and Jules Eckert Goodman were former news-
men who made good in show biz.
Among the great press agents who were former newspapermen
were Harry Reichenbach, the greatest of all stunt P.A.s, and
Walter Kingsley, who covered the Manchurian battlefronts for
the London Mail, before he did press work for the Palace and
Ziegfeld. Bronson Howard, who wrote the great play Shenandoah,
and Willis Brill, a fine PA., were also war correspondents. Charles
Dillingham left the New York Sun to become advance man for
Charles Frohman, and later became one of the most successful
musical-comedy producers. George Atkinson of the Columbia Dis-
patch is now the dean of the press agents. Bob Sisk (an old Variety
mug) became P.A. for the Theatre Guild and now is one of the
top Hollywood producers. Howard Dietz is not only a great P.A.
but one of our finest lyric writers. N.T.G. (Nils T. Granlund) was
Loew's great publicity man. Jesse Lasky, the noted Hollywood pro-
ducer, once worked in the office of the San Francisco Post, Ruth
Hale (Heywood Broun's wife) was P.A. for Arthur Hopkins, Fred-
erick McKay, critic of the Evening Mail, was once husband and
manager of Blanche Ring. Then there were Mark Leucher, John
Pollack, Ann Marble, Lou Cline, Brock Pemberton, Wolf Kaufman
(another ex-Variety mug), and Nellie Revell, who started in the
circus, went into vaude with a monologue, and later became one of
the greatest of the lady P.A.S. Ralph Kettering is not only a great
PA. but also a playwright and producer-manager. And Bonfils and
Tammen, publisher of the famous Denver Post, owned the Sells-
Floto Circus.
There were a few critics that also wrote plays: Jack Lait, Gene
Fowler (yeh, he was a critic once)7 Bartlett Cormack, Bide Dudley,
George S. Kaufman, Channing Pollock, Rennold Wolf, Ward
Morehouse, Alan Dale, George Jean Nathan, and a few others.
PRINTER'S INK AND GREASE PAINT 211
Many newspapermen became stage-struck! The cartoonists, espe-
cially, flocked to vaude, because it was vaude patrons who read
the funnies. Harry Hershfield's gag fits perfectly here. When he
was once asked if a cartoonist is a newspaperman., he said, "Is a
barnacle a ship?" Cartoonists served long and well on the big and
small time. Many headlined because of the popularity of their
strip. They were, in a way, "freak acts/' Many of them just played
locally where they had a reputation and small circulation. The
first of the top cartoonists to play vaude was Windsor McKay
(who invented animated cartoons).
Tom (Mack) McNamarra (of "Skinny Shaner" fame) did an
act with Meyer Marcus; they were the first to do a double cartoon
act. Later McNamarra appeared with Bud Fisher. Others were
Rube Goldberg, Richard F. Oucault (Buster Brown), George
McManus (Jiggs & Maggie), Sidney Smith (The Gumps), Ken
Kling (Joe & Asbestos), and H. B. Martin (illustrator and car-
toonist). Even Milt Gross (Nize Baby) did an act that lasted a
couple of weeks, and the great Tad appeared on a Sunday concert
at the old Herald Square Theatre. Hy Mayer, the noted carica-
turist, was on the Palace's first bill. Martin Branner, now doing
the great "Winnie Winkle" comic strip, did a great dancing act
on Big Time, with his wife Edith, known as Martin & Fabrini.
Leo Carrillo and Bert Levy gave up their newspaper cartooning
to remain in vaude. Harry Hershfield, a cartoonist and columnist
for over a half a century, although still writing a weekly column,
devotes most of his time to after-dinner speaking, and radio, stage,
and TV storytelling, while Ham Fisher, Al Capp, and Bob Dunn
also keep their voices and faces Agoing on radio and TV.
Some more ex-newspapermen who took up vaude as a regular biz
were Robert Dailey, Lee Harrison, Leo Donnelly, Russ Brown,
Ezra Kendall, Billy Gould, }. H. Murphy (Adam Sourguy), Russell
Mack, Robert Benchley, and Jack Barrymore (ex-cartoonist).
The great old humorists like Artemus Ward, Josh Billings, Eli
Perkins, James Montgomery Bailey, Bill Nye, Mark Twain, and
James Whitcomb Riley were newspapermen who made pretty good
side dough playing Chautauqua, which in those days was practically
vaudeville. Even the great Elbert Hubbard played a few weeks in
vaude— opened at the Majestic, Chicago, did very well, and wrote a
great article about how nice vaude was in his mag, The Philistine,
Lefty's Letters 2U
next week. He then played Cincinnati, where the gallery sort of
Tieckled him, and he walked out and went home and vaudeville
never saw him again.
While I was telling you about cartoonists, I should have told you
about what the professors call "an allied art" that was very popu-
lar in vaude for many years. They were the rag-picture and sand
-artists and clay modelers. The rag-picture artists would usually
come on with a pushcart full of rags, put up an easel and stretcher,
and pinning the rags on it would really make beautiful pictures,
usually ending up with the Statue of Liberty or the American flag.
The best in this work were the Clintons, Marcello, and Ralph
Ralfaely. The sand painters put all kinds of colored sand in a frame
-and made beautiful seascapes and also ended up with some patri-
otic picture. Many of them would work upside down, then turn
over the frame. Outstanding acts were Eldridge the Great, Jules
LaRue & Jean Dupre, and Lieut. R. Eldridge, who did sand painting
while his partner, Sally Randall, sang. The clay modelers also had
a regular pattern. Some of them were really fine sculptors, but did
•clay modeling because it was fast and had some element of comedy
in it, and besides I guess it was a faster buck than in sculpting.
They would first make a few busts of famous men, then for comedy
relief would make a "mother-in-law" and throw wads of clay at it,
(or a bust of an unpopular political figure and throw a big chunk
of clay at him, which would always get a big hand and a laugh).
Gallando, Bicknell, Zoubalkis, McNamarra, and George Wichman
were some of the best.
Karlton & Klifford did water-color lightning drawings, Les Do-
dattis did copies of famous paintings, Vandioff & Louie did novelty
oil paintings. Sartello, besides drawing pictures of landscapes and
Tnrdsr also did magic. Froehlic did pics in crayons and oils, as did
Karl Krees (very fast oil paintings) . Gene Smith was a great painter
of animals and did wonderful horses' heads, and for an encore did
a fast drawing of a lion and tiger. Sylvester (the most versatile of
all vaude actors) also did speedy oil paintings.
There were a number of cartoonists in vaude that I don't know
if they were newspapermen; no doubt most of them had been at
•one time, but they certainly belonged in vaude — guys like Arthur
Birchman, Walt McDougall, Rem Brandt, F. A. Clement, Rouble
Sims (a good comedy act), Harry Brown, who sang while cartoon-
ing, as did Bowen & Cody. Florence Pierce was a quick-sketch
PRINTER'S INK AND GREASE PAINT 213
artist, as was Lightning Hopper. Felix was a European cartoonist.
Mr. Quick was a fast cartoonist, as you can guess from his name.
Hubert DeVeau, George Paris, Jr., and the Great Weston were all
good cartoonist acts. Then there were a couple of Frisco boys by
the name of Billy Hon and Harry Price, who made a comedy
entrance, one with an umbrella and the other sprinkling water on
the umbrella; they did Tad and Rube Goldberg stuff. Harry Hirsh
had a little Negro boy as an assistant. Lawrence Semon did four
baseball figures and talked about them. R. C. Faulkner, who was
the image of Woodrow Wilson (and cashed in on it plenty), did
cartoons while he talked. Rudinoff did smoke pics and whistled
fa la Bert Levy).
Columnists were booked in vaude and pic houses. Someone once
said that they were "middle men" between celebs and the public,
shrugged at by performers, and booked on the basis of their getting
top talent to appear with them for free. It got so the actors carried
their music around with them because they never knew when
they'd get a call from a columnist to appear. Most of the columnists
acted as M.C.s for the show. It was Mark Hellinger who started
the stage-door parade of columnists! Many of them proved very
good drawing cards, mostly because they could put on a show of
great headliners that the management could never afford to play
or pay, whereas the columnists paid them off with "column men-
tions/' It worked all the way around. The columnist got publicity
for his column and his paper (and of course plenty dough ), the
actors got publicity, the manager did good biz for small dough, and
the audiences saw good shows!
And so the boys followed Mark Hellinger's lead: Walter Win-
chell, Ed Sullivan, Nick Kenny, Louis Sobol, Rian James, Hy
Gardner, Danton Walker, Earl Wilson, Walter Kiernan, Paul
Yawitz, Ted Friend, Jerry Wald (now a big Hollywood producer) ,
Heywood Broun, Floyd Gibbons, and Alec Woollcott, who took a
flyer in legit. There were a few more that later parlayed a by-line
into big billing and dough in vaude, radio, and even pics, like Bob
Considine, John Kieran, F. P. Adams, Clifton Fadirnan, Goodman
Ace, Mary Margaret McBride, Harriet Van Horn, Dorothy Kil-
gallen, H. V. Kaltenborn (who left the Brooklyn Eagle for radio ),
and H. I. Phillips, who was M.C. on the Robert Burns program
before Burns & Allen took over.
We also have a few cases of actors turning columnists. Of course
Lefty s Letters 2U
the top example is Walter Winchell, who exchanged his dancing
shoes for a very talented typewriter, Hedda Hopper, and of course
the immortal Will Rogers. (Some actors wrote columns, but most
of them were ghostwritten by press agents.)
So you see, today grease paint and printer's ink mix pretty well.
At the Lambs you can see the comradeship enjoyed by actors,
critics, news columnists, press agents, newspapermen, and cartoon-
ists, all Brother Lambs! And if you look real close, you may even
see the actor pay for the drinks, but you'll have to look red close\
SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
Freak and
Dear Joe,
The struggle for novelty brought out some very odd acts, and the
manager's struggle to get box-office attractions brought out the
4<freak act"!
Willie Hammerstein was the daddy of the freak act. He would
take anybody who was "news" and make 'em box-office through
build-up and publicity. Freak acts were paid big dough, but lasted
only a short time; a full season was an exception. Usually a few
weeks were enough to blur the newspaper headlines that had made
the act worth putting on the stage. But there certainly was a mess
of 'em in vaude at one time.
The "odd acts" were different than freak acts, and some of them
played in vaude for many seasons. The odd acts were unorthodox
in style and presentation— for instance, there were the Australian
Woodchoppers (who were champs of Canada too). They had big
logs on the stage and would chop them up as fast as Max of the
Stage Door Delicatessen could slice corned beef. Whfcn playing
fairs, the boys would sell axes on the side and demonstrate how
FREAKS AND ODD ACTS 215
good the axes were, never tipping off that they were wood-chopping
champs. The yokels bought the axes, but when they tried 'em on
their trees at home they found they didn't chop as easy as the boys
made it look.
Charles Kellog was a handsome man, over six feet, who opened
in a wood scene and announced he would give imitations of bird
calls, but unlike the regular acts that did this, he didn't whistle-
he sang them! Without opening his mouth he would sing (?) bird
calls. (The Great Lester, a vent, whistled with a handkerchief
stuffed in his mouth as he walked down through the audience.)
Anyway, Kellog got away with it for many years as a headline attrac-
tion. He also showed woodcraft, like how to build a fire by rubbing
two pieces of wTood together. Interesting act, done by a fine show-
man.
The Lutz Bros, were sort of a half-odd and half-freak act. They
were both armless, but performed wonders with their feet! They
put a motor together, did sharpshooting, writing, etc. Armless
wonders had worked in museums for many years, but the Lutz
Bros., with their good showmanship, put it over in vaude as a
regular hunk of entertainment instead of looking "freaky." Work-
ing on a stage with proper lighting, etc. (instead of working on a
bare platform), helped sell the act too.
Louis Ducasse & George Jeannoit, a couple of Frenchmen, had
an act called "La Savette," which I guess means boxing. They gave
an exhibition of fighting with their hands and feet. (New at the
time for the U. S.) They got a lot of publicity with the old gag,
"Can an American fighter using his fists beat a Frenchman using
his feet?" By the time they found out, the boys were back in
France with plenty francs I
Monzello was a minstrel show with dummies on the stage and
the gags done via phonograph. Kinda crude but a novelty. There
was another act something like this one called "The Automatic
Minstrels," which played at Gane's Manhattan Theatre (where
Macy's is now). This one had a live interlocutor; the rest were
dummies, whose jokes and songs were done via phonographs.
Didn't do so good.
Willard, "The Man Who Grows/' would come on stage, get a
committee from the audience, and stand next to them while asking
a lot of questions. He looked about as tall as the men he was talk-
ing to. Then they would stand aside and he would show the folks
Lefty's Letters 216
how he grew almost a foot. (They didn't notice the drop coming
down little by little maybe a half inch at a time, as he was growing
up; it helped the illusion a lot, but the guy did make himself
taller.) He did a lot of flash advertising and was a good freak head-
liner for a number of years. I guess he quit the business when
Adler's elevator shoes came in.
Back in 1907 the National Theatre in Frisco played a man by the
name of L, B. Hicks who got a lot of publicity because he had
been entombed in a mine at Bakersfield, California. He was sup-
posed to get $2,000 for the week. Some actor came out with him
and told the story for him. Then people started to ask questions
and the guy got stage fright and couldn't answer, and he kinda got
mixed up with his chew tobacco — and went back to the mines!
Did you know that as late as 1908 there was a freak show showing
a cow with human skin, a mule "that he-hawed on cue" and a
hairless horse for a lo-cent admish — and it was right on Broadway
and Forty-second Street, New York (supposed to be a pretty "wise-
guy" spot in those days).
In a man and woman talking act, Fox & Fox, he did an Irish
comic, and talked all through the act while standing on his handsl
Marcel & Rene Philippart were the world's champs of the diabolo
(a spinning bobbin) and tried to make it a craze (like the later
yo-yo), but it didn't catch on. They really did remarkable tricks
with it. Alier Norton did a sort of a chemical act, producing rubies
and sapphires in full view of the audience (really a magic act dis-
guised as a scientific experiment). Luigi Marabin, who was an ice
sculptor, chopped away at a large cake of ice and made a bust of a
prominent man. Very clever. (You now see a lot of those things in
restaurant windows.)
Marcello was the first one I ever saw drape odds and ends of
material and ribbons on a live gal and make beautiful dresses right
before your eyes. The finish, of course, was a wedding gown. Very
novel, then. Willie Hoppe, a champ at eighteen, gave a billiard
exhibition on a table surrounded by mirrors so that the audience
saw every shot. Howard & Heck, two midgets, did the "Kugelwalker
Twins," one on the shoulders of the other with a long coat cover-
ing them, which made it look like one guy— a very funny act.
Burr Mclntosh, who was a very well-known legit actor, did a
lecture on the Merchant Marine in 1909, a sort of recruiting and
publicity idea, which he illustrated with slides. At the finish he
FREAKS AND ODD ACTS 217
would say, "Will those in favor of the Merchant Marine get up
and sing the 'Star Spangled Banner'?" Of course everybody stood
up when it was played. He was a natural, and a good showman.
There were only a couple of fencing acts in show biz. Carstans &
Brosins were one of them, and I can't recall the name of the other.
Vaude had never seen this style act. It was a novelty, but the audi-
ence would rather see boxing. A very different sort of act was done
by Mme. Ann Diss DeBar, who did a lecture on "Right Thinking
Is Right Living/' She didn't last long. I guess nobody wanted to
live right if they had to think. Hap Handy & Co. manipulated soap
bubbles, juggled 'em, bounced Tem around all over the place, and
put colors in them which made beautiful designs. (This was long
before the song 4Tm Forever Blowing Bubbles.")
Dr. Carl L. Perip, who at Hammerstein's (where else?), read
palms and told you your destiny at long distance, gave out a
"lucky bean'7 which you held up and he read your palm right from
the stage and also answered questions. (Good eyesight, eh?) A man
billed "Thermos" did air experiments. He froze rubber, quicksilver,
and raw steak, fried eggs on ice, and finally produced a concentrated
snow. (That was in 1911.) Jack Irwin, who was the wireless opera-
tor on the Wellman, received the CBQ (then the SOS signal)
from the steamship Republic and saved the ship. He told about it
in a short monologue. Jack Binns, the Marconi operator on the
Republic., also did a few weeks of vaude.
Dr. Cook, who claimed that he and not Admiral Peary dis-
covered the North Pole and who received reams of publicity, deco-
rations, etc., did a talk about it at Hammerstein's. The big laugh
was when he complained to Mike Simon, the stage manager, that
his dressing room was cold! The Spook Minstrels were a minstrel
show on film with regular actors behind the screen doing the jokes
and songs. At the finish, the curtain went up and the audience saw
the live actors. (This was long "before the talking pics.) Mrs. Dr.
Munyon (the wife of the famous doctor who advertised that he
cured everything that Lydia Pinkham didn't) was the attraction at
Hammerstein's during Christmas week of 1910. She cured every-
body that week including herself; she quit show biz when the week
was overl
Rillow billed himself as a "menaphone novelty," but nobody
knew what it meant until they saw that he made musical noises on
his teeth, cheeks, head, etc. It was something like playing "the
Lefty's Letters 21&
bones/' Tarzan was a man dressed like an ape (I can't recall his
name, but he was a great artist) . He worked with a trainer, did
the regular ape "tricks," and never took his make-up off. It left the
audience puzzled, some saying it was a man and some believing it
was an ape (that's how good he was). Later he went over the
circuit, running through the aisles and over seats, scaring the audi-
ence (they liked to be scared), and at the finish took off the mask.
There was an Englishman by the name of Nathal who was the best
of all the animal imitators,
Harry Kahane wrote upside down, frontwards, or backwards
anything you would call from the audience, while concentrating on
a newspaper article. A remarkable performance. Sessukikima also
did this act years before Harry, but in this type act it is so tough
to do that they all deserve credit. Charlie Chase, who played every-
thing from the Gus Sun to the Palace and Ziegfeld Follies, ate
paper, electric bulbs, flowers, wood, matches, etc., and also did a
very funny dance. A novel act.
George Schroeder was billed on Pantages Circuit as "Convict
6630, the man who sang himself out of the penitentiary/' He was
a former forger (this shows how hard up the managers were for
headlines). That same year (1913) Pantages also played Ed
Morrell, who was the youngest member of the famous Evans-
Sontag gang of outlaws in California; he served sixteen years, was
pardoned, and got a contract from Pantages. A few years later,
McVicker's, Chicago (the Hammerstein's of the West), played
Barney Bertsche, a swindler, who chirped about the cops that stood
in with him in a fortune-swindling racket. He got $700 for the
week. (Another swindle.) Even Bugs Baer, the great of the humor-
ists, wrote a skit for James J. Curran, a confidence man with a long
prison route.
But the tops of "prison talent'7 was a guy called Snodgrass, who
was in on a rap for accomplice to murder, broadcasting from the
penitentiary at Jefferson City, Missouri. He got carloads of gifts
and letters. He couldn't read a note, but his rendition of "Three
O'Clock in the Morning" was really a masterpiece. Through his
popularity via the radio, he got a pardon and reinstated citizenship,
and also got on the Orpheum Route (they never played freak acts)
for $1,000 a week. He was assisted by an announcer from WOSr
and he did very well. The booking of "behind the bars" talent got
so bad that E. F. Albee issued a letter that "criminal proceedings,
FREAKS AND ODD ACTS 219
publicity headlines" were out for the future as vaude headliners.
(But they played them just the same — if they figured to clink at
the box office.)
McNaughton, "The Human Tank," did an act where he swal-
lowed live frogs and other things and emitted them alive. He was
stopped by the ASPCA, claiming cruelty to animals (and to audi-
ences) . Another smart (?) booking was a freak act that was playing
at Coney Island and some booker thought it would be a novelty
for vaude. The guy's name was Hadji Ali, and he swallowed hickory
nuts, then drank water, then swallowed more hickory nuts, then
more water, then more hickory nuts and water. Then in front of
the audience he would eject the hickory nuts, followed by water,
then— Oh, Nuts! (We saw him.) A fine act for family audiences!
And yet he lasted four weeks before they got wise that he was
killing their supper shows. He never played Big Time or Hammer-
stein's (Willie had too much good taste for that one). I only
mentioned these two acts to show you how far a manager would
go for an attraction.
Sidney Franklin is the only American who has become a top-
notch bullfighter or what they call a toreador. Naturally the vaude
audiences were proud to see a guy, especially from Brooklyn, who
could go to Spain and beat 'em at their own racket. Of course the
audience knew as much about bullfighting as about Einstein's
Theory, but they applauded the guy loud and long (for his show-
manship) . The Five Gaffney Girls did an act with each girl dressed
half boy and half girl; they looked like they were dancing with a
guy. A very novel act. (This was long before those Danish renovat-
ing jobs.) Vasco, "The Mad Musician" (an Englishman), played
twenty-eight instruments at every performance (a great act). Me
and Aggie d'dn't know if he played 'em well, but we gave credit to
the guy for even picking 'em up I We saw a gal by the name of
Fuj:-Ko, a Jap mimic who did an imitation of Harry Lauder "as
seen through Jap eyes"; well sir, you know Jap eyes are slanted,
but we never knew they slanted that much. A Jap trying to do a
Scotchman, when even a Scotchman couldn't do a Scotchman!
Swain's Cats and Rats had cats actually working with rats. (I guess
they fed the cats before the act went on.)
A very odd act was the Hakoah, champ Jewish soccer team.
They made a tour of the vaude theaters in the larger cities. Edna
Wallace Hopper gave a special matinee for women at Pittsburgh,
Lefty's Letters 220
Pennsylvania. She gave them a spiel on how to keep young etc.
She took a bath in front of the lady audience. Four college boys
got in dressed as dames and were spotted; they claimed it was a
press stunt (which no doubt it was).
Jack Johnson, the world champion heavyweight, did an act at
the Pekin, Chicago, but stopped showing pics of the funeral of his
wife, Etta Duryea (white), who committed suicide. He thought
the public would think he was cashing in on her publicity.
In 1912 Hammerstein's ran a Women's Suffragette Week.
Speeches outside, no customers inside. Fola La Follette (daughter
of the famous senator from Wisconsin) spoke fifteen minutes on
women's rights, while, one hundred women in white dresses stood
on the stage. One carried a baby (to make it look harder, I guess) .
They sold buttons and flowers to the audience for "the cause/'
There was a big laugh when George May (the orchestra leader)
played "Battle Cry of Freedom" for their entrance. The week,
from a money standpoint, was a fliv, but it got plenty of publicity
for Hammerstein's and the Suffs, and besides Willie got 'em for
free.
Another freak act was Rev. Frank Gorman, pastor of the Congre-
gational Church of Portland, Oregon, who sang a ballad, told
stories, and finished with a baseball poem. Said he was out for
money the same as Billy Sunday. (He certainly didn't get it in
vaude.) In 1922 there was a Dr. W. B. Thompson, who claimed to
cure deafness, baldness, bad eyesight, etc., by the patient's just
putting his fingertips together, touching fingernails. He caused
quite a stir for a while, like Dr. Coue did with his "Every day in
every way I'm getting better and better"— -but Dr. Coue was smart;
he didn't go into vaude. Anyway, this Dr. Thompson must have
talked to guys with no fingernails, because he wasn't booked for
very long.
Here is a pip. In 1910 we saw Mrs. LaSalle Corbell Pickett, a
charming Southern lady, the widow of the famous General Pickett
of the Confederate Army, do an act consisting of a poem, "Pickett's
Charge," and of all the places to book her, they picked the Colonial
Theatre, New York. All the boys from South Ferry, South Brook-
lyn, and South Street applauded as she retreated south of the
Mason-Dixon line after a week. I'll bet she said, "Vaudeville was
damyankee propaganda!" How could an intelligent, charming
FREAKS AND ODD ACTS 221
Southern lady figure a thing like that would go in vaude? I don't
blame her; I blame the lousy agent who talked her into it!
In 1917 there was an act called "The Shrapnel Dodgers"; they
told about their experiences in the war and sang. One had only
one eye, the other had a leg and arm off. They were Canadians.
They did a real good act, and certainly didn't depend on sympathy,
but when they finished there wasn't a dry eye in the house.
There were many freak acts in vaude in spite of the trade papers
claiming that 1917 saw the end of them. Bubbles Wilson, who got
so much publicity with Frank Tinney, got a date at the Bowdoin
Square Theatre, Boston, Massachusetts, to do a dance act for $600
a week. Patricia Salmon was discovered with a tent show at Shelby,
Montana, by Heywood Broun and other sports writers who were
there to cover the Dempsey-Gibbons fight, and they gave her more
publicity than the fight got. The result was that she came East to
go into vaude and the Ziegfeld Follies and finally went back to
the tent show she was with when originally discovered. She was a
swell gal who couldn't take New York, and vice versa. Then there
was Peaches Browning, the Cinderella Girl who married the multi-
millionaire eccentric real-estate man. She was the first to play a
route for RKO on percentage (Keith Circuit never liked to play
actors on percentage, and didn't. Peaches did it through her very
able manager, Marvin Welt. She did very well as a drawing card.
She sang a song in her act, "I'm All Alone in a Palace of Stone"
(* la "Bird in a Gilded Cage").
Then came a flock of Atlantic flyers. Ruth Elder was the first
woman to do it, and was immediately offered $6,500 for one week
for Loew, but took twenty-five weeks at $5,000 instead. Then there
was a rush of Atlantic flyers, replacing the Channel swimmers.
Lindbergh turned down fabulous offers (see my letters on salaries) .
The Channel swimmers who cashed in were Gertrude Ederle and
Mrs. Mille Gade Corson. (Eleanor Holm made more than both
of ?em and hardly swam a stroke.)
Then there was Aimee Semple McPherson, the Hollywood
evangelist, who laid a big egg at the Capitol Theatre, New York,
at $5,000 for the week. Bob Landry, then on Variety, reviewing the
act, said, "She wears a white satin creation, sexy but Episcopalian!"
The house lost $20,000 on the week. When me and Aggie played
with her mother, "Ma" Kennedy, and Ma's husband, "What a
Man" Hudson, in Los Angeles, she laid an even bigger egg (but not
Lefty's Letters 222
at that price) ; she fust quit after one week of vaude. But "What a
Man" stuck it out for two more weeks to prove what a man he was!
A few years later Jafsie Condon (cashing in on his publicity as
one of the important witnesses in the Lindbergh case) played at the
Capitol Theatre at Lynn, Massachusetts. In between shows he
appeared for one hour in Kane's Furniture Company store window
to demonstrate the model of the ladder, nails, chisels, etc., used at
the trial.
"Prince" Mike Romanoff (now a very reputable restaurateur in
one of Hollywood's finest restaurants) appeared at the Palace, New
York (when the Palace had stopped playing the blue bloods of
vaude, and was playing freak acts, which they had never done be-
fore). It was a time when the motto was, "Anything to ring the cash
register." The "Prince" was really a great character; too bad he
came too late for Willie Hammerstein, because between them,
with their great showmanship, the "Prince" would have mounted
the throne!
In 1924 there appeared at Proctor's Twenty-third Street Theatre
a really swell freak act by the name of Miss Bird Reeves. She was
sixteen years old, and a champ typist. She did twenty strokes a
second and 500 words a minute. Read a newspaper while typing
other things being dictated to her. Had a terrific memory— she
would ask for the name of a prominent man and would type and
recite an excerpt from one of his speeches. She passed the copy to
the audience, and it was neat and clean. She answered questions
and exchanged wisecracks with the audience and was very good at
it. She typed one speech while reciting an entirely different one.
She put a piece of tin in the machine and gave imitations of a
drum and a train. She didn't get very far in vaude, although every-
body said she had a great act. We often wondered what happened
to her. Too bad Willie Hammerstein was gone; he would have
made her a headlinerl This is one of the freak acts that really had
it Maybe she found out she was too smart for vaude and became
a secretary!
Another odd act was Cantor Joseph Rosenblatt, a little man
with a long red beard. He opened at the Fox Theatre, Philadelphia,
as an experiment; he was the first cantor in vaude (outside of
Eddie). William Morris didn't know if the Jews would resent it,
or the gentiles wouldn't go for it; it was a "touchy" booking. He
was not only a big hit but a terrific box-office draw. (There have
FREAKS AND ODD ACTS 223
been great applause hits that couldn't draw a dime to the till, and
on the other hand there were acts that didn't get a hand, but would
draw 'em in.) Anyway, for an encore Cantor Rosenblatt sang
"Mother Machree," which made his applause "unanimous"! He
lasted a few years in vaude.
Jack Connelly (who for years was the piano player at Keith's,
Boston) and Marguerite Webb did an act called "The Stormy
Finish" in which he played the piano with bananas and lemons,
and at the finish he described a tornado while playing, and every-
thing on the stage flew off!
We loved Scictler's Manikins; he had a juggler, three hobos, and
an ostrich which laid an egg and a snake hatched out of it. One of
the manikins made a quick change on the stage from a man into a
woman. (At that time a thing like that was odd — but since then
we have progressed.)
Right now, Joe, I feel I am repeating to you about many acts.
Forgive me. You may find the same info in several letters because
so many acts belong in so many categories, and the same memories
come up each time.
Charlie Matthews, who was England's long-distance jumping
champ, leaped from a table over an upright piano. (O. G. Seymour
did the same trick many years before him. He jumped over an
upright piano with a short start.)
Morris & Allen, dressed in Scotch kilts, with a Hebe make-up,
sang an Irish song before making their entrance— a very big novelty.
George Dixon did a musical act and used a skeleton for a xylophone.
Fve never seen it done since, but I bet I will.
Eddie Mack described a whole baseball game while he danced.
Crane Bros., "The Mudtown Minstrels," were the first three-man
minstrel act.
The Four Mignanis, "Musical Barbers," played all of the stuff in
a barbershop: razors, strops, bottles, etc. Ben Meyer, billed as the
"Human Elevator," lifted a man with his teeth and walked up a
ladder with him. Contino & Lawrence were the original upside-
down dancers; that was in 1906. A few acts copied them later. Toy
& Toy played all the toys on the Christmas tree. "Dates" was the
act of a memory wizard; when you'd call out any historical event,
he would tell you the date it happened. I know the guy was on the
level, because I hollered out, "When was Lincoln born?" and he
told me the right answer. Zeno, Jordan & Zeno did thirty-five con-
Lefty's Letters 224
secutive somersaults in a bounding net. I tried it once and couldn't
get out of the net, let alone turn over. (It looks so easy.) The
Mozarts were the first and only snowshoe dancers we have ever
seen. Canard was a contortionist who worked on the dial of a clock.
Annie May Abbott, "The Georgia Magnet," was one of the first to
do the act where nobody could lift her off the stage. Sam Rowley
(an Australian) was the first we ever heard who talked with a
whistle every time he came to the letter s. (Yop, it's been copped
many times since.)
Dr. Herrmann called himself the "Electrical Wizard." There
were many acts of this kind, with a lot of important looking para-
phernalia on stage, and when they turned on the juice, it would
give out tremendous sparks, etc. The "professor" would tell you
how many thousand volts his machinery produced. Then he would
sit in an electric chair and they would send 100,000 volts (that's
what the man said) through him! I recall one incident at Keith's
in Philadelphia. The stagehands didn't like anyone to stand in the
first entrance, so they rigged up a comfortable-looking chair and
connected it with a five-volt battery; when you sat down you made
a contact, and you'd keep out of the entrance from then on. One
day after Dr. Herrmann finished his act, where he claimed 100,000
volts shot through his body with not even a twitch from him, he
sat down on the chair in the first entrance, and you never saw a
guy Jump so high or yell so loud!
In 1909 we saw a troupe called Mile. Toona's Indian Novelty
Co. They did an operatic act (I believe the first and only operatic
Indians that were ever in or out of vaude) . Kennedy, Nobody &
Platt, had a novel idea in a two-man talking act. "Nobody" was
an imaginary person that Kennedy & Platt would talk to as if he
were part of the act. Later Kennedy did the act with just "Nobody."
In the late '205 there was Thelma De Onzo, world's greatest
candlestick jumper; she had lighted candles on tables of different
heights and put them out as she jumped over them. (Some actor,
seeing the act at Hammerstein's, remarked, "What a finish for a
Pontifical Mass!" Anything for a laugh.)
Robert Stickney danced on stilts. Will Mahoney did a dance on
a huge xylophone with the hammers strapped to his shoes (great) .
In 1923 Freddie Thomson was acquitted of the Tessmer murder.
The "Man-Woman" appeared at Linnicfc and Schafer's Rialto
Theatre, Chicago, for $500 a week. It came out at his trial that he
FREAKS AND OBD ACTS 225
led a double life as wife of a man and husband of a girl. Drew
the jurors' sympathy through his helplessness. The act was stopped
by police.
In 1811 the original Siamese Twins were bom to Chinese parents
in Siam; they were discovered by an English merchant and when
in their teens were brought to Boston, where P. T. Barnum snapped
Tem up for his side show. In 1925 the Big Time refused to play
another pair of Siamese twins, Daisy and Violet Hilton. Loew
booked them at $2,500 a week and they broke all house records
for him throughout the Circuit! Loew also booked a freak head-
liner in the person of Miss Elinor Glyn, the famous author of
Three Weeks. She did very big.
Here is a pip! In 192-7 an Egyptian showed his act to the bookers
at the Palace. He called it "The Crucifixion." He put needle-point
spikes through the palms of his hands and there was no blood.
There also was no booking.
In 1913 Rev. Alexander Irvine & Co. played a sketch, "The
Rector of St. Jude's." He was an excommunicated minister. There
were two "hells" and one "damn/' in the act. It was sort of socialis-
tic propaganda. One wag said, "Hammerstein should book a priest
next week just to show no favoritism."
The greatest of all the odd and interesting acts we have ever seen
or worked with was Helen Keller, who was deaf and blind. We
spoke to her like you would speak to anybody, and she touched
our lips with her hand to "hear" us. Miss Sullivan, the great lady
who taught her, was her constant companion. Miss Keller's act was
a great lesson in courage, faith, and patience to everyone in the
audience and to everybody backstage. She headlined in vaudeville
for a number of years. A great lady.
There were a good many more freaks and odd acts, but I'll tell
you about them when I tell you about the Hammersteins. SEZ
Your pal,,
LEFTY
Lefty's Letters 22S
Dear Joe,
The comedy man and woman talking act that worked "in one"
(the first drop behind the proscenium) was one of the important
factors in starting vaude on its golden journey. It broke up the
monotony of seeing mostly men on variety shows and also brought
some class and cleaning up of material. The pioneer man and
woman acts (or "mixed acts" as Variety named them) consisted
of the man doing the comedy, tumbling, dancing, and maybe even
a bit of juggling, while the woman (usually as a soubrette) did
"straight" and contributed a song and dance and good looks.
The following billing in the program of May 7, 1893, of the
Elite Theatre, 607 California Street, San Francisco, California,
will give you an idea of the average type of man and woman act
of that time.
JOHN F. BYRNES & MISS HELENE
Mr. Byrnes is America's greatest essence dancer while Miss
Helene is the best wench dancer in existence. In their side-
splitting plantation act entitled "Rescued/7 introducing essence
dancing, double songs, and flashes of wit.
And here's another one from the London Theatre, New York,
program dated October 28, 1889.
The performance begins with the eccentric character comedian
FRED H. HUBER
And the talented actress and vocalist
KITTY AIXYNE
In their own original act, entitled "Pleasant Dreams/' intro-
ducing Violin and Banjo accompaniment, bone and whisk-
broom solos, comedy and tragedy sandwiched into "One
Night's Rest"
No matter what they say about the "old days" in variety, you
can't say that the managers were stingy with their billing of an act!
I don't want to dig way back to the early '705 and ?8os, but I
THE MIXED ACT 227
think it's the best way to give you examples of what the mked acts
used to do, so you may see what a change took place in this type of
act.
Miss Beane of Fanny Beane & Charles Gilday was the greatest
song-and-dance woman of the early 'yos. She danced with a fan,
not like Sally Rand, but a small fan held in one hand to accentuate
style and grace. Charlie Gilday, her partner, did the comedy. Sam
& Carrie Swain d'd a blackface song, dance, and comedy act. Carrie
Swain was the only woman at that time to do back and forward
somersaults while dancing. In the act of Dolph & Susie Lavino,
Dolph did comedy and crayon drawings while Susie sang. John &
Maggie Fielding did Irish acts "in one" with songs, and Maggie did
"straight." Jap & Fanny Delano did acrobatic song and dance and
comedy talk; they were one of the better known mked acts of that
day. In the Two Jacksons, he did comedy while she punched the
bag and they finished the act with what the program billed as
"a refined set-to" (boxing) . Richmond & Glenroy, Hallen & Hart,
Morton & Revell, Jim & Bonnie Thornton, and Dick & Alice
McAvoy were all standard acts,, and there wasn't one "funny'*
woman among them!
It was in the late '905 that the comics began replacing their
straight man with a woman foil. Most of the ladies were picked
for their beauty and their ability to wear clothes, the man figuring
he could take care of the comedy. This added class to the act and
contrast to the heavily made-up and baggy-pants comic. He gave
her a few lines to speak and maybe let her do a song or dance, but
the burden of carrying the act was on the man's shoulders. The
majority of the mixed acts were married couples; they didn't have
to split salaries like the two-man acts, and so could afford to take
many dates at "a cut" that the other team acts couldn't take. It
was almost as cheap to live double in the old days as it was single.
And all the money went into one grouch bag (the wife's). (A
grouch bag was a chamois bag, usually worn around the neck,
where the family jewels and money, if any, were placed— called
grouch bag because when empty, one, and even two, would get
grouchy.) Nonworkirig wives who traveled with their husbands
were called "excess baggage," so many men stuck the wife in the
act to do a bit to sort of let her earn her keep. Sometimes it bet-
tered the act; sometimes it didn't. They would only ask for a slight
raise (to cover fares, etc.), so the price was right for the bookers
Lefty's Letters 228
and that had a great deal to do with the flood of man and woman
acts in the early 1900$. Some of the gals became real great
"straights'* and fine performers.
"Funny women" were at a premium. Vaude was making big
strides and there was keen competition. Man and woman acts "in
one" (especially comedy) were in great demand. The male patrons
came to get some laughs and look at the beautiful women and the
lady patrons came to see the latest styles in clothes and hair-dos.
The comics were trying to develop their female partners into
comediennes; it meant getting away from the regular stereotype
of mixed acts. At first they would let the partner get a few laughs
in the act, then maybe next season the lady got 50 per cent of the
laughs (alternating funny answers) . In this way some of the women
(very few) developed into excellent comediennes. In many cases,
where they were real funny, the comic would turn straight man
and let the woman get all the laughs, (It hurt his pride plenty, but
it was good business.) Sometimes the comic would turn to a
"light-comic" straight, getting some laughs, but giving the boffolas
to the woman. Laurie & Bronson, Ryan & Lee, Donahue & Stewart,
and Burns & Allen all started with the man doing the comedy and
later turning to light-comedian straights.
The early funny women would wear funny make-ups and funny
clothes. Some mixed acts would both dress funny. Melville & Hig-
gins (a very funny team) was an example of that type act. Little by
little they began to use regular clothes and soon there were very
few women doing comedy in funny clothes or doing "low" comedy.
In the 19005 Wilbur Mack & Nella Walker started a new craze,
called the "bench act," for man and woman acts. They would have
a bench on the stage where they would sit and do "flirtation stuff/'
and finish up with a neat song and dance, during which they would
exchange wisecracks. It was Mack & Walker who brought the
"class/' natural talk, and street make-up to vaude. Miss Walker
possessed great beauty and talent, while Wilbur Mack was a fine
light comedian with plenty of class. They were copied by many, but
were never caught up with as to class and fine material. They started
a trend that led to making "funny women" without using funny
clothes.
Later Ryan & Lee and Laurie & Bronson brought a new type of
mixed act to vaude— the "dumb girl" type comedienne and the
smart-cracking straight man, depending on cross-fire "seini-nut"
THE MIXED ACT
comedy, using a song-and-dance finish. Bums & Allen, Block &
Sully, Allan & Canfield, and Dooley & Sales came later. fDooley &
Sales were a team In show biz much longer than the others, but for
years Jim Dooley did the comedy. When the tiend changed, he
turned all the laughs over to Corinne Sales, and she did plenty
good.)
There were many types of mixed acts working in one. Some did
singing or musical acts with a little comedy talk between selections.
Others depended on their dancing, but used a "flirtation" routine
as an opening, and went into their dance for the "sock finish.0
But most of the mixed acts tried to put <ftalk" in the act and to
make the woman the "funny" one of the act. Some of 'em made it,
but most of Tem didn't!
There were a number of mixed acts that did "skits" in one. They
practically used a plot, also using a song or dance. These acts could
fit on more bills than the regular sketches that used full stage.
Among the best examples of this type skit were McMahon &
Chappie, Mr. & Mrs. Jimmy Barry, Mclaughlin & Evans, Billy
Wayne & Ruth Warren, and Jim & Sadie Leonard.
But the "funny women" were still in demand, and it wasn't long
before they came along. All you needed in vaude was a demand,
and it was supplied (like in any other biz). Marie Stoddard
(Gardner & Stoddard), Florence Moore (Montgomery & Moore),
Fanny Stedman (Al & Fanny Stedman), Marie Hartman (Hibbit
& Hartman) , Emily Darrell (Tower & Darrell) , Harriett Lee (Ryan
& Lee), Aleen Bronson (Laurie & Bronson)7 Gracie Allen (Burns &
Allen), Marion Cleveland (Claude & Marion Cleveland), Irene
Rieardo (Cooper & Ricardo), Lulu McConell (McConell & Simp-
son—who really did a sketch but she was a real funny woman),
Gracie Deagon (Dickerson & Deagon), Alice Stewart (Donahue &
Stewart), Corinne Sales (Dooley & Sales), Eva Sully (Block &
Sully), May Usher (Ben Rubin & May Usher), Annie Kent (Kelly
& Kent), Rose King (York & King) , Helen Broderick (Crawford &
Broderick), Charlotte Greenwood (Sydney Grant & Charlotte
Greenwood) , Edna Leedom (Harry Tighe & Edna Leedom) , Stella
Mayhew (Mayhew & Taylor), Elsie Canfield (Allan & Canfield),
Flo Lewis (Gould & Lewis), Blanche Leighton (Jim Kelso &
Leighton— really did a skit, but she was one of the best stage
"drunks" ever seen), Ann Codee (Frank Orth & Codee), Maude
Ryan (Innes & Ryan— she was the best ad-libber among all the
Lefty's Letters 230
women comics), Irene Noblette (Ryan and Noblette), Patsy Kelly
(Kelly & Wood), Ina Williams (Keene & Williams), and Sara
Carson (McLellan & Carson), were just some of the real funny
women.
The comedy mixed teams where the woman did the "straight"
outnumbered the other type of mixed acts. The great comedy acts
that corne to mind are Brendel & Hurt, Bonita & Lew Hearn, Lester
Allen & Nellie Breen, Anger & Parker, Bam- & Wolford, Brown &
Whittaker, John & Mae Burke, Bozzell & Parker, Bevan & Flint,
Conlin & Glass, Eddie & Bertie Conrad, Clifford & Marion, Clark
& Hamilton, Billy Gaxton & Ann Latighlin (did a bench act way
back in 1915), Sam Hearn & Helen Eil, Gladys Clark & Henry
Bergman, Johnny Stanley & Stella Tracy, Raymond & O'Connor,
Skeets Gallagher & Irene Martin, Jack Haley & Flo McFadden,
Jim & Marion Harkins, Bert & Betty Wheeler, Bert Lahr & Mer-
cedes, Toney & Norman, Harry Fox & Beatrice Curtis, Bill Frawley
& Edna Louise, Harry Lang & Bernice Haley, Joe E. Brown &
Marion Sunshine, Fred Leightner & Rosella McQueen, Queenie
Williams & Jere Delaney, Jack Norton & Lucille Haley, Louise
Groody & Hal Skelly, Russ Brown & Aileen Cook, Inglis & Reading,
Si Wills & Joan Davis, Ken Murray & Charlotte. Fred Allen &
Portland Hoffa and Jack Benny & Mary Livingston really didn't do
a "mixed act," but just used the gals for foils in bits, and were
plenty good. Then there were Montrose & Allen (talented parents
of the talented Steve Allen), Ben & Hazel Mann, Davis & Darnell,
Sid Marion & Marion Ford, Tom & Stacie Moore, Lola Merrill &
Frank Otto, Newhoff & Phelps, Sully & Houghton, Johnny NeS &
Carrie Starr, Bert Gordon & Gene Ford, Pisano & Bingham, Lou
Handman & Florrie LaVere, Arthur Stone & Marion Hayes, Burke
& Durkin, Sully & Thomas, Morris & Campbell, Whiting & Burt,
Billy Gaston & Ethel Green, and one of the greatest, Williams &
Wolfus!
There were many "kid acts" that were an important part of
"mixed acts"; Harry & Eva Puck (one of the first real great ones),
Bud & Nellie Heim, Laurie & Aleen, Felix & Claire, Eddie & Josie
Evans, Guyer & Goodwin, and two teams that were grown-ups who
did great kid acts, Rawson & Claire and Sager Midgley & Fanny
Carlye; the latter were old people and did the greatest kid act in
show biz.
Toward the last dying years of vaude, the mixed acts contributed
THE MIXED ACT 23!
a lot with their 4rblue" material or "shock laughs/' "hells/' and
"damns," to help vaude die! Everybody began to steal each other's
acts until it seemed that everybody was doing the same act. It did
a lot to push vaude off the entertainment shelf.
The writers of vaude acts, who supplied the funny material that
made a nation laugh, were a very important part of vaude. They
supplied it for years with the plasma that kept it alive. When all
the acts started stealing from each other, the writer was helpless.
The booking office was a lot to blame for booking "copy acts" be-
cause they were cheaper. They didn't care about the future o£
vaude; it was a case of "get it while you can" with the managers.
They didn't realize that without the writers vaude would die. Out-
side of a very few actors who could write their own stuff, talking
acts depended on writers who could give them material that would
make them a living. The writers became disgusted and luckily
walked into other facets of show biz that needed them. They con-
tributed their talents (for much bigger dough) to the new fields of
radio and pics — great comedy writers like Paul Gerard Smith, Al
Boasberg, Charles Horowitz, Felix Adler, Harry Conn, Tommy
Gray, Hockey & Green, Jimmy Conlin, Harry Breen, Benny Ryan,
Henry Bergman, William Cartmell, Jack Lait, Eddie Clark, Joe
Browning? Frank Fay, Joe Laurie, Jr., Will Morrisey, Bert Hanlon,
Gene Conrad, Junie McCree, Harry C. Green, Ren Shields, Billy
Jerome, James Madison, Tommy Dugan, Fred Allen, Eddie Cantor,
Billy K. Wells, Andy Rice, and the tops of ?em all, Aaron Hoffman,
were disgusted with vaude and quit.
It is tragic to think that of all the great mixed acts of vaude, the
only one that has survived through vaude, radio, pics, and TV is
George Burns & Gracie Allen! They met the challenge and won!
Again there is a shortage of funny women. There are just a
few around today, and they are mostly from the vaude school —
Gracie Allen, Martha Raye, Lulu McConell, Pert Kelton, Patsy
Kelly, Joan Davis, Bea Lillie, and of course Imogene Coca!
Maybe women need guys to make 7em funny. Aggie sez "that
many a woman has made a guy into a clown" . . . but not in
vaudeville, SEZ
Your pS^
LEFTY
Lefty's Letters
Big
Joe,
To break up the monotony of watching singles, doubles, trios
and quartettes, and maybe sometimes a large troupe of acrobats,
vaudeville used what was called "big acts" or "girl acts1' for a
"lash" of bigness on the show. A fifteen-people act, with special
costumes, scenery, book and lyrics, lighting, and "leader" in the
pit with white gloves, made a big splash. These were not condensed
musical comedies, and were produced by men who knew their
business-men like Joe Hart, Ned Wayburn, Jesse Lasky & B. A.
Rolfe, Gus Edwards, Charles Maddock, Fred V. Bowers, Harry
Delmar & Jeannet Hackett, Bart McHugh, McMahon & Chappie,
Minnie Palmer, William Friedlander, Velaska Suratt, Taylor Gran-
ville, Herman Timberg, George Choos, Benny Davis, and a few
others.
Lasky's "Nurses," starring Gladys Clark & Henry Bergman, was
one of 'the first and best. His "Redheads" starring James Carson,
"Night on a Houseboat," starring O'Malley Jennings, "The Bride
Shop," starring Andy Tombs, and many more big musical acts
were done with B. A. Rolfe, who also produced on his own some
very fine big acts.
One of the first big acts was Gus Edwards' "School Boys &
Girls," starring Herman Timberg, and he followed this with some
of the best big acts in vaude. His "song reviews" were packed with
talent and were well done— "Kid Kabaret" (starring Eddie Cantor
and George Jessel), "Band Box Revue" with "Cuddles" (Lila Lee)
and Georgie Price as stars (and you can bet Georgie and Cuddles
never appeared in the school act), "Blonde Typewriters/7 starring
Johnny Stanley, and "Carlton Nights," starring Ray Bolger. Ned
Wayburn, who produced for Ziegfeld, also produced some beauti-
ful big acts— "Daisyland" with Dorothy Jardon (who later left
vaude for opera) singing "Fedora," and "The Rain-Dears," which
had a wonderful rain effect. Joe Hart was a prolific producer; his
"Bathing Girls" was a swell act. Charlie Maddock produced in
association with Lasky and Rolfe. McMahon & Chappie produced
BIG ACTS, GIRL ACTS, FLASH ACTS AND TABS 233
"Pullman Porter Maids>? and "Sunflower Girl" Minnie Palmer
(the mother of the Marx Bros.) produced all their big acts. "Home
Again" a seventeen-people act written by Al Shean (Gallagher &
Shean)7 their uncle, was not only a great comedy act but a fine
scenic and costumed production. Velaska Suratt in "Bouffe Vari-
ety" showed the one and only Velaska with gorgeous wardrobe.
Herman Timbers; did "Chicken Chow Mein" with Jay Gould & Flo
Lewis (Sophie Tucker was in this one for a while too). Rooney &
Bent's "Rings of Smoke" was a wonderful act (Vincent Lopez
played the piano for them). George Choos was a lavish producer;
his "Battling Butler" was later made into a show. Sam Bernard did
an act at the Forty-fourth Street Theatre for Hammerstein and Wil-
liam Morris, when they tried to buck the Palace. It had sixty people
in it (never traveled). Anatole Friedlander and Benny Davis
always had fine acts of young talent. Eddie Clark was a pioneer in
girl acts with his "Six Winning Widows/' a great act. (When they
played England it was billed as "Eddie Clark & His Merry
Kiddos." ) Others were "Ray Dooley & Her Metropolitan Minstrels/'
"Frank Dobson & the Sirens" (which played 150 consecutive
weeks), and "Rubeville," a Maddock act, which played for six
consecutive years, except one summer when the cast took a six
weeks7 vacation.
In 1910 William Morris produced "Chanticler" on his American
Roof. It ran for two hours and a half, hut was really a vaude act
and featured Mitzi Hajos (later was known as Mitzi). She made
her debut in this act and was immediately discovered and became a
great star, Joe Hart's "Eternal Waltz," with thirty people, special
music, etc., was on the opening bill of the Palace, Doc Baker's
"flashes" and "song revues" were swell. Gertrude Hoffman had the
biggest act in vaude way back in 1908; she had thirty musicians
with her, did about fifteen imitations, ending up with a burlesque
on Annette Kellerman diving into a tank. "The Love Shop" was a
rhapsody in velvet, silk, and lace. Will Morrisey & Elizabeth Brice's
"Overseas Revue" was a condensation of their show. Way back in
1904 Oscar Hammerstein wrote the book and lyrics and music for
a big act, "Parsifala," with a cast featuring Eleanor Falk and a
chorus and ballet of seventy!
Al Von Tilzer's "Honey Girls," with McBride & Cavanaugh,
was produced by Arthur Hopkins, The Weaver Bros. & Elviry had
their big "Hill-Billy Revue/7 There were Bart McHugh's "House-
Lefty's Letters 234
warmers/' with Johnny Dooley & Yvette Rugel, JesseFs "Troubles
of 1920," produced by Al Lewis & Max Gordon, Annette Keller-
man's "Revue" at the palace, with ten scenes; she talked, danced,
sang, and walked the tight wire besides doing her diving act. "The
Lawn Part}-/* with Billy Doolev, was produced bv Bart McHusJi;
he was the Philadelphia Gus Edwards, discovering neighborhood
talent. Joe Laurie, Jr/s "Memory Lane" had sixteen old-time
favorites including W. C. Handy, Emma Francis, Al Campbell,
Dave Genaro, Annie Hart, Rosamond Johnson, Tommy Harris,
Eddie Horan, Lizzie Wilson, Bill Swan, Harry Brooks, Tom Phil-
lips, and many more. Of course, Harry Carroll's big acts were always
tops, with fine music, scenery, and book. Joe, it was in one of Car-
roll's acts that you met June (now Mrs. Joe Laurie, Jr.).
The small time couldn't afford these first-class attractions, so
had to devise something that looked like a big flash for short dough.
That brought a flock of "flash act" producers. The flash act con-
sisted of a two-man act (with their own vaude material), a singing
and dancing soubrette, a prima donna in the lead, and a line of six
to eight girls. Scenery was carried in one trunk and costumes in
another. "Reel Guys/' produced by Harry C. Green, "Get Hot/'
with Milton Berle and nineteen people, "The Little Cottage," with
Frank Sinclair, Maddock's "Not Yet, Marie/' Clark & Bergman
with "Seminary Mary/7 and "The Wedding Patty" were a few of
these.
The history of show biz tells us that public taste undergoes a
change every few years, and it proved it with the quick growth of
the tabloid musical comedies, which commenced about 1911. They
were made up to save dough when vaude salaries went UD. The
"tabs," as they were called, stayed in towns (of single- and double-
week splits) a full week, sometimes two weeks, changing their
shows two and three times a week, which was great for the small-
town managers and saved transportation for the producers (a big
item). Many vaude acts joined these tabs. By 1912 there were
over thirty theaters playing small-time vaude that had converted
to tabs. They first came into their own in the Middle West at a
io-zo-30-cent scale and ran up bigger grosses than the old road
shows did at $1.50 scale. They averaged $2,500 to $3,000 a week
for the show's end. The tabs soon consisted of four or five
principals and eight chorus gals, with one set of scenery. Salaries
BIG ACTS, GIRL ACTS, FLASH ACTS AND TABS 235
were about $700, with transportation paid by the manager. Many
of these tabs were just midget burly shows!
Fisher, in Los Angeles, Lewis & Lake, Dillon & King, and Charley
Alpin were the pioneers. The first traveling tab musical comedy
was organized by Adams & Ghul (an old double Dutch team) in
the fall of 1911. It gave two bills, changing in the middle of the
week. The W. S. Butterfield Circuit (with houses all over Mich-
igan) played it and it was a big money-maker. The second tab was
headed by Rube Welsh & Kitty Francis, who hung up many
records on the Inter-State Circuit (all through Texas). The third
show was Max Bloom's "Sunny Side of Broadway"; on its first
showing, in Springfield, Illinois, it received contracts for twenty-five
weeks. Tabloids were getting recognition.
Boyle Woolfolk became a leader and produced over a dozen
tabs, then became ambitious and tried to play them in "combina-
tion houses" instead of in vaude houses. It failed because they just
weren't good enough to get the higher prices. The tabs were good
for third- and fourth-grade houses that were a bit tired of playing
tired vaude acts and were looking for a cheap novelty. The tabs
started out to play the Pacific Coast for a season for John Cort
(later John became a big Broadway producer and theater owner) ,
but the tabs failed and the Chicago boys who thought they had
show biz by the throat were left holding the bag. Minnie Palmer
(mother of the Marx Bros.) put on different type tabs, better than
the others, and did very well with them. Dwight Pebble put out
small-scale tabs for the Gus Sun Circuit (fourth- and fifth-grade
houses). He did this long before tabs were recognized by the
larger circuits.
Robert Sherman put out a dramatic tab and it was such a big hit
that he soon had a half a dozen out and became the leader in the
field. He kept salaries down (only way you could keep a tab
going). Charles E. Kohl and Mort Singer, under the name of the
Western Extravaganza Company, sent out some very fine shows,
figuring people were now ready for them, but they weren't— so they
quit.
William B. Friedlander put out his first tab, "The Suffragettes/'
with Nan Halperin (then his wife) featured. It was a record
breaker, Ned Alvord was the original tab hooker and there was a
time when he practically controlled the tab biz. He was a terrific
publicity man. (It was Ned who turned Bill Rose's Crazy Quilt
Lefty's Letters 238
flop into a box-office smash.) Tabs were very popular in the South,
where Winfrey B. Russell was the tops. John & Ella Galvin? in
"Little Miss Mix-Up" introduced the tab in the Middle West,
but it was Adams & Ghul who were the first to play the Western
Vaudeville Association Time (better houses). The Galvins first
started in Oklahoma City about 1907.
The tabs became a craze for the small time and a box-office life-
saver. By 191 5 they began being censored, because they were getting
a bit on the burly side and the comics catered to small town smart
alecks who liked their jokes spicy.
When the tabs became bigger and better, with good performers,
special music, book, scenery, lighting, wardrobe, etc., the managers
in the East figured this might be the "new" form of entertainment
people were looking for. The Big Time started booking the better
type tabs (which cleaned up and put on their Sunday manners).
But they didn't do so good back East on the Big Time because
they took up too much running time, which cut out a couple of
regular vaude acts, and the regular vaude audiences no liked. The
producers had sunk a lot of dough in the tabs, making them too
expensive for the poor results on the Big Time. When the man-
agers didn't come through with the big salaries asked, the pro-
ducers began to cheat on wardrobe, scenery, cast, etc., so they
could make a little profit. They couldn't book these big produc-
tions on the small time, because it already had its own producers
who knew its needs and budgets.
A few of the real good tabs that played the Big Time were
"Court by Girls," "The Fair Co-Eds," "The Four Husbands,"
"Kiss Me," "Back to Earth" (with Frank Lawlor), "The Leading
Lady/' "Naughty Princess," "Oh? Doctor," "The Only Girl,"
"Reckless Eve," and "Suffragette Revue." We still say it was noth-
ing "new"; it was just the old Lasky idea of big acts, and not
as good.
In 1921 A. B. Marcus Shows were elaborate tabs playing the road
on percentages. They were closed in many towns for naughtiness
and sexy advertising. He later took his shows to the Orient and they
made a lot of dough.
In 1922 there were tabs in the Midwest playing pirated musical-
comedy versions of big hits. In 1926 there were 100 tabs— it was
the top year for tabs!
While on the subject of tabs, I must tell you about a man who
THE SMALL TIME 237
owned the Playhouse, at Frigonia, North Dakota. He got a tab to
play for him by offering them the first $i7ooo that came In. The
tab took $8co and told the manager they were sorry he had played
to a loss. (It was an 8oo-seater.) The manager said, "Me and my
wife get lonesome up here in the winter and we wanted some nice
company. It was worth it."
The tabs made a lot of dough while they lasted, but they didn't
last long enough. The best that could be said about the tabs, flash
acts, and girl acts was that it gave people work, which is O.K.
with me. SEZ
Your pd,
LEFTY
Tune
Dear Joe,
When Variety first started, someone on the paper (I believe it
was Chicot) wrote up an act, saying, "Good for the small time/7
That was the first time the expression, "small time," was used in
show biz. Before that, they used "act good for smaller houses" or
"for cheaper houses/7 but calling the cheaper and smaller houses
"small time" clearly divided the better time (Big Time— two-a-day)
and the small time (the houses that did more than two-a-day or
charged a cheaper admission).
Marcus Loew was the Keith of the small time. Sullivan & Con-
sidine, Pantages, and William Fox were runners-up, and Gus Sun
was low man on the vaude totem pole!
There were always different levels of show biz, even in the days
of the honky-tonks. Koster and Rial's was certainly "Big Time"
against Big Bertha's Casino in Spokane. Eden Musee was higher-
class than Huber's Museum; Loew's National, in the Bronx, cer-
tainly had more class than Gus Sun's World in Motion in Coats-
ville, Pa.; and the Keith and Morris circuits certainly topped all
of them!
Lefty's Letters 238
The small time really started with the museums, when variety
acts were added to freak attractions and curiosities. Five or six acts
played over and over again, and continuous vaude developed from
this. The museum annex was dropped and a good bill was pro-
vided at small cost, and with prosperity came an increase in salaries.
Managers then had to raise prices, and this was followed by re-
served seats (for extra dough). Higher prices demanded better
shows and forced out the acts that didn't belong; these found work
at the ten-cent houses, just as their forerunners had turned to
museums.
The Nickolat Company was organized to give five-cent shows in
stores— moving pics with illustrated song slides and a piano player.
They got the illustrated songs for free from the publishers; this was
one of the few ways of plugging a song. Every half hour a Negro
porter shouted out front that the show was over. Soon, because of
competition, these houses provided piano playing to accompany
the picture, then added a drummer and maybe a fiddler, and some
even went as high as a five-piece orchestra. Then an act was added
to the bill, then a couple more acts, and soon these houses were
presenting regular small-time vaude. It was about 1908 that the
x'pic-vaude" combination really became hot!
The People's Vaudeville was a fair sample of the two hundred or
more store shows in New York City giving moving pics and vaude
for five cents in the afternoon and ten cents at night. Located just
east of the southeast corner of 12 5th Street and Lenox Avenue, it
had entrances from two sides, a narrow store space having been
taken on Lenox Avenue and turned into a passageway leading into
the theater proper. Tickets were sold at both entrances. Originally
the arcade fronts were studded with incandescent lights, which
stopped burning after the first few days; thereafter the front
illumination was furnished by two flaming arcs, which made a
bigger show for the money.
Shows ran for over an hour and included three i,ooo-foot films,
two vaude acts, and an illustrated song. When biz was light, they
were even longer, with a fourth film and an extra song added. But
around 10 P.M. when people started piling in and packing the
hall, the entertainment went down to two and a half reels and one
vaude turn not running over twenty minutes. This was on a slow
week night; what the show was cut to during rush hours on big
nights may be imagined. Capacity was about three hundred, with
THE SMALL TIME 239
one hundred standing in the back. They put a card out at the side
of the stage with the name of the vaude act, and when the pic
was on, the}- put out a card reading "moving picture/' as if you
wouldn't know what it was. Sometimes when there were no titles
on the pics you just made up your own. There was no "dip" to
the house, which made it tough for the customers to see. (Marcus
Loew and Joe Schenck were part of the People's Circuit.)
Speaking about cutting shows when there were crowds, I must
tell you about the time Clark & Verdi (the first two-man Italian
act) played Proctor's Twenty-third Street. They had an amateur
night, and the crowds were waiting to get in. The manager ran
backstage and told everybody to cut their acts so they could get
the crowds in. "How much shall we cut?" asked Clark and Verdi.
"Cut, cut, cut/' said the manager, "We have to get those people
in/' Clark & Verdi, who usually did a 2ominute comedy act, that
night opened with "Hiya, do you wanna job?" "Shoes/' said the
partner. "Then come witha me!" And they walked off the stage.
The shortest act on record. The manager came back roaring mad,
but all Clark and Verdi said was, "You told us to cut — we did!"
The manager had no argument. This is one of the classic stories
among vaude performers.
Just think, in 1904 there was not a single five-cent theater de-
voted to moving pics, and in 1907 there were 5,000 nickelodeons!
They were developing new theatergoers. Attendance was two mil-
lion people a day, of which one third were kids. The average
expense of running one of these store shows was $175 to $200 a
week. Seating capacity was usually 199, because over 199 seats
meant a higher license fee. Some of the places did twelve to
eighteen shows a day.
This pic-vaude combination was essentially a poor man's amuse-
ment. It looked to the lower classes for support. Immigrants
learned to read English from watching the pics and having their
sons and daughters explain the titles to them. The combination
shows gathered in the rough and tough of both sexes who had
little to spend but a long time to spend it in. Where there was
competition, features had to be added to attract the opposition
business, and this increased the cost; then the admission had to be
raised, and with increased admissions the poor man, whose patron-
age built up these shows in the first place, was cut off.
William Fox was a pioneer in small-time vaude. He took over
Lefty's Letters 240
the Dewey Theatre on East Fourteenth Street (an old burlesque
house) for $50 a day rent. He gave Kraus (the owner) a check for
$3,500, for a ten weeks' advance. He did great and took over the
Gotham in Harlem, paying $40,000 a year, then took a lease on
the Dewey for $60,000 a year. Fox became the owner of the
Greater New York Film Exchange and developed more of an in-
terest in pictures than he had in vaude. He became one of the
biggest men in the pic business. And at one time he tried to buy
up all the theaters In America. He failed (thank goodness) .
The Bronx Theatre, which Arthur Jacobs owned, was the first in
the Bronx to play vaude with any pretensions. It was only a 299-
seater. The Bernheimer Bros, store in Baltimore played seven acts
of vaude six shows a day, and seated only 300 people. There was
even Yiddish vaude at the Mt. Morris Theatre on n6th Street
and Fifth Avenue. At one time there were five theaters on Four-
teenth Street playing vaude and pics, charging 10-20-30: Pastor's,
the Unique, Union Square, the Fourteenth Street Theatre, and
the Dewey.
There were many acts that had angles, even in those tiny
theaters. One act bought $2.00 worth of tickets for the Erst show
and packed the place to make sure the act would go over and
maybe save itself a cancellation. Over on Avenue A (New York)
there was a pic show that gave you soda water with a tiny dab of
ice cream all for five cents!
The Imperial Theatre on n6th Street and Lenox Avenue, orig-
inally opened by Sam Taub (a great showman), then later owned
by the McKibbon Bros, and booked by Joe Wood, was an in-
cubator for future headlines Mrs. Jessel (George's sainted mother,
who loved show folks, and whom Georgie is keeping alive by his
famous "telephone calls") was in the box office. Walter Winchell,
Jack Weiner (who later became a great agent), Eddie Cantor,
Bert Hanlon, Burns & Fulton, Laurie & Bronson, Leonard & Ward,
and the Evans Bros, were just a few that hatched there. The
McKibbon Bros, would cancel the real bad acts, and the Evans
Bros, (hoofers), who lived next door, would come in to see the
opening show with their wooden shoes in their hands, ready to go
on any minute.
M. R. Sheedy left the United Booking Office and became inde-
pendent opposition with a small-time circuit (Ben Piermont later
was the booker of this circuit and a very good one), and Sheedy
THE SMALL TIME 241
had many houses on his circuit. Walter Plimmer, an old-timer,
also was a big inde in the early days of small time. His son, Walter,
Jr., became a very good actor; he now is a priest and has been made
an honorary Lamb, which is a great honor to the Lambs! W.
Cleveland, an old minstrel manager, was another big inde agent.
The Unique on East Fourteenth Street put in illuminated signs
on the sides of the stage of the name of each act as it appeared,
getting away from the card system. There were no programs.
The small-time theaters couldn't play a big act, so they had to
take what they could get Hokum (originally called "okum") and
slapstick acts were fed to the small-time audiences, who loved them.
It undid five years (1903-1908) of trying to promote cleaner and
better bills, but it made dough, and that's all the managers were
thinking of.
Illinois is credited with having introduced small time to the
Middle West. The Bijou in Ouincy was first to enter the field with
a store show in 1908. Chicago booked 150 to 200 of these small
theaters in a week I
The Dewey, in New York, advertised twenty-five fans, making it
the coolest house in town. They had to turn off the fans when the
acts went on, as you couldn't hear a thing with them going. People
were standing in long lines to see pics and vaude at a time when
only some world-wide star could get such response in legit. Cane's
Manhattan (on the spot where Gimbel's is now) gave them two
acts and three reels of pics, a one-hour show for ten cents. Gane
barred sensational, crime, or suggestive films. Acts playing the real
small-time theaters had to use the floodlights from the pic
machine, because the small-time houses had no spotlight.
In 1909 Joe Leo was booking fifteen weeks of small time for
William Fox. There were thirty-two small-time houses in the
U.B.O. Then there was the Metropolitan Vaude Exchange, booked
by Joe Wood, with fifty small-time theaters on his books.
It was in 1909 that New York's Mayor McClelland tried to re-
voke all moving-pic licenses, but the court stopped him. Dan
Hennessy, an old-tinier, took charge of the U.B.O. family-time
(small-time) houses and was in that spot for many years. He could
have made a fortune, but died a poor man — because he was honest.
(A swell guy!) Pat Casey (at this writing the last of the greats of
old vaude) took over the Metropolitan Exchange and booked fifty
weeks of small time; his brother Dan was treasurer, and Joe Wood,
Lefty's Letters 242
to whom it had originally belonged, became just a part of the
agency. Then he and it were both taken over by the UJB.O.l
People's Vaude, with Joe Schenck as head man, booked twelve
houses (including Loew's).
Pop Grauman (father of the famous Sid) was up for mayor of
Frisco, in 1909, but didn't make it. He was a great showman for
thirty-four years; he took out the first colored minstrels on the
road after the Civil War. He was also the Erst to introduce high-
class vaude at a ten-cent price on the Coast, at the Unique (after-
wards named the National). A man always kind and considerate
to the actor.
A sensation was caused on Broadway when Big Jim Morton was
booked in two small-time houses (doing eight shows a day), the
Circle and the Manhattan, for Gane, at $2,000 a week. He called
himself the "human film." And it was the beginning of "small
time" growing up!
In 1909 the small-time vaude houses were driving out the straight
pic houses (as the talkies drove out the silent-pic houses). The
small-time manager with from $400 to $1,500 a week to spend was
a self-satisfied person. He was looking further ahead than the big-
time manager.
Hurtig and Seamon's Metropolis Roof played vaude in summer
— vaude, beer, and delicatessen. The orchestra, with Joe Ali and
six musicians, played twenty-minute intermissions so the customers
could beer up and visit the delicatessen. Neatly printed cards were
given to the audience, saying that there was a lunch counter in the
rear of the hall; pig's knuckles, cold jelly, and potato salad could
be had for twenty-five cents! The orchestra played ten overtures
during the evening to give the customers a chance to buy!
In 1907 there was an epidemic of "living pictures" (a revival of
the old honky-tonks). Ladies posed in tights, which brought them
under the head of theatrical performances and required a $500
license. Small-time acts (some Big Timers too) went in for pathos,
singing mother songs with a recitation (in an amber spot) or doing
a poem about a dog. The guy would stand dejectedly, gazing at
the floor with a pained expression, wringing his cap, while the
piano player rendered "Hearts and Flowers"; it was not pathos, it
was pathetic! (But it got a big hand.)
As the small time progressed, the music publishers began charg-
ing the managers for the song slides (which up to now had been
THESMALLTIME 243
given for free) . The slides, which started at $5.00 a set, brought in
a quarter of a million dollars a year to the publishers.
Vaude was getting pretty dirty in 1908. (It cleaned up again
later.) The following notice appeared in the local dailies in
Seattle: "Clean Bills— The following houses at their performances
yesterday presented programs free from vulgarity— Coliseum, Pan-
tages, Star." The omission of the Orpheum, which was the
standard vaude house, showed that the "blue material" was creep-
ing into the Big Time. (It was the only time I ever knew the
Orpheum Circuit to step away from the strict censorship of blue
material.)
Chicago was a hotbed of "pop" vaude. The Western Vaudeville
Association cared for a large string. William Morris looked after a
long string of pop houses, as did Walter Keefe, Coney Holmes,
Frank Q. Doyle, and Charles Doutrick, who all supplied acts to a
number of small houses. In the South they had plenty of small
houses and agencies. The Greenwood Agency, with headquarters
in Atlanta, was the biggest one down there. It was rough going for
an act playing the South around 1909. The managers there were
new to show biz and were even smaller than their houses. Phila-
delphia had hundreds of houses playing "pop" vaude. Between Chi-
cago and Frisco there weren't very many small-time bookings of
importance. In later years there was the Ackerman & Harris Circuit
booking that territory and it was called the "Death Trail." The
jumps were terrific and the acts had to play three days and lose
the rest of the week to make the next jump. They would owe
themselves money when they finished the tour. I do want to say
that Mr. Ackerman was a fine gentleman and showman, as was
Mr. Harris, but their ideas didn't work out for the actor. George
Webster in the Dakotas headed a small circuit of houses controlled
by people of many occupations; it was rough. At Frisco there was
a great independent by the name of Bert Levy (no relation to the
vaude artist). Sullivan & Considine and Pantages were not classed
as small time, but were medium time, as distinguished from Big
Time, small time, big small time, and small time.
Pop vaude attracted small investors. Cases are known where the
investment was less than $100 for a two-act and pic show. The
arrangements in those cases were an agreement between the pro-
moter and the prop of a foiling straight pic house or the manager
of an opry house who couldn't get enough combination or rep
Lefty9 s Letters u*
shows to keep his place open. These places were often booked by
fly-by-night agents and many acts were paid less than their con-
tracts called for, or sometimes not paid at all, the manager closing
up or pleading poverty. The act was at a disadvantage in a small
town, as far as taking their troubles to court, because many times
the manager was the sheriff or even the judge, so you just packed
up and tested the next bookings. In the early days of vaude,
acts, when with a "shaky* outfit, would always draw in advance
from the manager so they would be that much ahead if there was
no pay-off and the habit hung on in the small time. When an act
got into town they'd touch the box office with the excuse that they
had run short of dough because of the big jump, or that they had
sent their money to the bank and left themselves short, etc. Later,
as the business grew solid, there were few box-office touches, al-
though I do know of cases on the Big Time where the first thing
an act did was to get an advance on some pretext or other. The
big-time manager had nothing to lose because he was going to pay
them anyway, and if anything happened to the act that they didn't
play out the week, the booking office would collect (or the act
would lose its bookings).
Jones, Linick & Schafer, in Chicago, started in the slot-machine
business and later built up a big small-time circuit around Chicago.
James L. Lederer was the pioneer "pop" vaude manager in Chi-
cago. There was a theater there called Shindler's; when the man-
ager canceled an act, he would walk down the aisle and yell,
"You are shutl" (instead of closed). Actors hated him!
At the beginning of small time, the illustrated song played a big
part, as the singers became local favorites (like M.C.s did many
years later), Edward Roesch at the S. & C. in Seattle sang no
consecutive weeks. Arthur Elwell at Pantages in the same city
did 174 weeks. Jack Driscoll sang illustrated songs at the Four-
teenth Street Theatre, New York, for five years.
There were some funny combinations on the small time. There
was a family by the name of Hope (not Bob) . The Six Hopes came
from Brooklyn, and did twelve acts for $36. They all played a
variety of instruments and supplied the accompaniments when the
others sang or danced. They did a musical sketch, and all did single
acts and acrobatics. Everybody filled in with a specialty. They
could do anything from a two-hour show to a full night's enter-
tainment.
THE SMALL TIME 245
Small time was originally called "family time" — the small store
shows were usually run by the family, mother selling tickets, father
at the door, daughter playing the piano7 and son running the pic
machine. In igog there were 2,000 small-time theaters, 1,000 east
and 1,000 west. Grauman's National Theatre in Frisco never billed
the house on billboards or advertised in the newspapers, and the
place was always jammed. Sid Grauman (his son) later became the
greatest showman on the Coast. Remember the stars' footprints in
the cement outside Grauman's Chinese Theater in Hollywood?
That stunt of Sid's received world-wide publicity.
By 1910 Loew was starting to book big-time headliners in some
of his larger theaters, like Amelia Bingham (great legit star) at
$1,500 a week. (This was a far cry from earlier salaries of $20 for
singles, $40 for doubles, $60 for trios, and $80 for quartettes; if
you had five people in the act you wrere out of luck, or maybe
they would tag on ten bucks to the pay check.) At Loew's National
Theatre in the Bronx he had thirty-three musicians and at his
Seventh Avenue Theatre there were twenty-five musicians. He
changed his prices from twenty-five cents to $1.00 top. William Fox
opened his Nemo Theatre (originally Lion's Palace, built in 1908) .
Ushers wore tuxedos and there was a class audience for vaude-pics.
Sigmund Lubin already was retiring from his vaude-pic houses in
Philadelphia where he had introduced this form of entertainment.
To give you an idea of what strides the small time was making,
at the Circle Theatre (New York) they offered a ten-act bill for
a dime; it was the most costly line-up ever offered for the price,
paying as high as $500 for an act (the opposition was Loew's
Lincoln Square). There were over 500 theaters who were playing
acts costing a maximum price of $300! Standard acts would play
the small time under assumed names, to grab a few weeks' work
in out of the way spots. (If they played under their right billing
their value on the Big Time would be lowered.)
In 1910 they were opening "Hippodromes" all over the country
and putting on open-air vaude shows in baseball parks, etc., with
prices from ten cents to fifty cents. Some spots made plenty, but
most of them were flops. They used "sight acts," bands, circus,
dancers, and acrobats. (No microphone in those days and a talking
act couldn't be heard.) In Los Angeles they had a theater called
the Nine Cent Theatre that advertised eight acts and 6,000 feet
of film for nine cents' admish! In New Orleans they had "premium
Lefty's Letters m
vaudeville." At your favorite store yon bought fifty cents' worth of
merchandise and they gave you a coupon; two coupons admitted
you to the theater In 1911 the famous Brandenberg Museum in
Philadelphia closed after trying burly, vaude, and pics. There was
plenty small time; they played acts to take the monotony off the
films* It was a case of quantity, not of quality. The price was the
main consideration. Herman Robinson, the New York Commis-
sioner of Licenses, approved 104,000 contracts, and said, "The
average salary was $80 for singles, $115 for teams, $150 for trios,
and for acts with four or more people $250."
By 1912 there were more than 1,000 theaters playing class and
medium vaudeville acts and 4,000 playing small time. Stagehands
demanded that acts with one or more stage sets must carry a
special stagehand, property man, or carpenter. Stagehands got $35
a week, the carpenter $40. (Now stagehands make as much as two
and three hundred a week with overtime, etc.) Acts naturally had
to ask for more money to cover the stagehand's traveling expense
and salary (and to make a little on it). The big-time was affected
more than the small-time act, but there were many on the small
time using "Diamond Dye drops'7 (could be folded and carried
in a trunk) . Producers of acts left the Big Time because of no
consecutive bookings, slashed salaries, and grafting agents and
bookers. They came to the small time where they could get a break,
maybe at smaller salaries, but with consecutive bookings. The year
1912 gave small time a terrific boom, some houses making a net
profit of $18,000 a week. They were getting a lot of acts from the
Big Time because the acts were sure of a longer route and no
cancellation clause in their contracts! On the Big Time an act
wasn't sure of his dates, even if he held contracts for them; they
could switch routes or cancel on two weeks' notice.
Jones, Linick & Schafer opened their Colonial Theatre in Chi-
cago, with four shows a day, and on opening day 10,000 people
showed up. Tickets were sold at the Boston Store (a department
store) for one cent as an ad for the house. In California one place
advertised "hot and cold" vaudeville; when it was hot they gave
the show in the airdome and when it was cold they gave it in the
theater. There were many airdomes throughout the country; they
were small outdoor theaters, and anybody who had a back yard
could (and did) open one. The gag among actors was, "We couldn't
play today at the airdome; the manager's wife had her clothes on
THE SMALL TIME 247
the line." Some small-time managers were a bit larcenous. They
would pay off the acts, just before train time, In dimes, nickels, and
quarters (making an excuse that they had to pay off from the day's
receipts) . The act had no time to count up until they were on the
train, and would then find their salaries short at least $2.00. Too
late to kick for such a small amount. But when you figure it up
on a season, the thieving manager had a few easy but dirty bucks!
In 1913 Gordon & Lord opened the Scollay Square Olympia
Theatre in Boston, a 3,2co-seater with no posts, and did six shows
a day at a twenty-five cent top. The United Booking Office raised
salaries because of an act shortage, then later on, in the year 1914,
cut them on account of the war bringing in lots of acts from
Europe. Detroit had vaude represented in all different grades be-
cause U.B.O., Pantages, Loew, Western Vaude, Gus Sun, and
Earl Cox were all booking theaters there. Loew opened Ebbets
Field in Brooklyn as an open-air night resort with pic and vaude —
and showed a profit. The open-air theaters had a tough time show-
ing pictures in the pioneer days of films. When the full moon was
out, the audience couldn't see the pic. It was "Roxy" who intro-
duced the daylight screen on which you could show pics out-
doors (or indoors), regardless of the light.
Commutation tickets were given by Moss & Brill at their Mc-
Kinley Square Theatre, New York, for the first time anywhere. Six
admissions for twenty-five cents at matinees and seven admissions
for $1.00 at night shows. Loew started the personal appearances of
prominent pic players with Sidney Bracy and Frank Farrington,
stars of a serial, "Million Dollar Mystery," which was playing his
houses. They did a piano act at two houses a night, but no
matinees, as they were shooting future installments of the picture
in the afternoons. They received $300 a week and did big at the
box office. Some years later Nils T. Granlund (N.T.G.), who was
Loew's press agent, had many stars from pics make personal ap-
pearances at Loew's theaters, just taking a bow, and making seven
and eight houses a night (with motorcycle escorts) . And still more
years later the personal appearances were run into the ground when
pic stars tried to do an act, which proved that they were pic stars
only.
Small-time vaude opened at the Lexington Opera House (New
York), built by Oscar Hammerstein for his operas, but according
to his contract with the Metropolitan Opera Company (to whom
Lefty's Letters 248
he sold out), he could not play opera for ten years. In 1915 we
saw the passing of the first Keith house in New York City, Keith's
Union Square; after thirty years it was returned to the landlord,
the Palmer Estate. It later became a small-time pop house and
even tried tab shows and pics. It was finally rebuilt as a store. The
Hippodrome, Boston (formerly Keith's National), played Creatore
and his band of fifty pieces along with pics, and also gave free
parking space to customers (first time any theater gave away park-
ing space).
Lillian Russell, brought to Loew's National, by Zit (publisher
of Zit's Weekly, a trade paper— he also handled some acts, busi-
ness and advertising), was called to take a bow, and made a speech
—and got hell from the U.B.O. Loew's New Orpheum, Boston,
opened and had box offices on three streets. Vic Morris, the
manager, was a great showman.
The opening of the State-Lake Theatre, Chicago, in 1919 marked
a new era for small-time vaude and in entertainment. It seated
3,100 with grosses never less than $20,000 a week. It started a rush
to build large theaters for pop vaude. Orpheum Circuit went in for
it good and heavy and called their pop houses Junior Orpheums.
It was that same year that the United Booking Office changed its
name to Keith Vaudeville Exchange in memory of B. F. Keith.
The Capitol Theatre, New York, opened as the largest theater in
the world, with 5,300 seats; the plot alone cost three million bucks.
There were fourteen dancers in the chorus, twelve show gals, nine
men and nine gal dancers, and Arthur Pryor and seventy musicians;
with twelve specialty acts. It played to $18,000 the first week and
went into vaude and pics later.
William Fox was doing many unethical things with his booking
of acts. Finally he couldn't stand the pounding the trade papers
and the Vaudeville Managers Protective Association were giving
him, so he finally issued a play-or-pay contract and even went
further; he put in the contract what spot the act would have on
the bill (first time this was done). Fox was having a tough time
getting acts, because Keith, booking the Moss houses (which were
opposition to Fox), barred all acts that played for Fox. In 1921
there were 156 weeks of three-a-day split weeks. There were 12,000
vaude acts idle, as 20 per cent of the houses changed to straight
pics!
The small time was the breeding place of gag and act pirates.
THE SMALL TIME 249
Managers would play them because they were cheaper than the
originals. Vaudeville was not variety any more, it was repetition.
The great Eva Tanguay was playing the Pantages Time doing four
or five a day. In 1923 the Orpheum Circuit put small-time vaude in
three of their big-time houses, Majestic (Chicago), Majestic (Mil-
waukee), and Orpheum (St. Louis), all playing the State-Lake
policy. The next year there was talk about eliminating the Big
Time and small time— all to do vaude and pics. It was getting
tough on the Big Time, because the "p°P" houses were playing
almost as good shows as they were, maybe with just a few less acts,
but a much cheaper admish. The New York Hippodrome, taken
over by Keith, did $50,000 weeks, and none less than $35,000, and
with small-time shows.
In 1926 it was very tough for the independent agents and circuits;
these were tiny places playing just a few acts. It got so bad the
acts were getting $7.00 a day (they were getting less, but the N.R.A.
put that price as the minimum). One strong man who tore a
phone book in half at every show had to go out and steal the books
from phone booths, as they cost forty cents apiece. He also would
bend nails and spikes in his act and throw 'em away, but on that
salary he would bend them back for the next show.
'When small-time vaude got that low, it was breathing its last,
It kept gasping for a few more years and finally gave up when the
Palace went into four and five shows a day with vaude-pic policy,
and a few more years saw Loew's State Theatre, the small-time
banner house, give up vaude and just play pics! Now there is no
Big Time or small time — in fact, there just isn't anything you can
really call vaudevillel SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
Lefty's Letters
Big Pay Checks
Dear Joe,
Years ago when we said a guy was 'loaded/' it meant just one
thing: he was drunk! But today when you say a guy is "loaded" it
means he has much moolah. Me and Aggie have also noticed that
years ago we used to talk about a guy having talent, but today
they speak about his heavy money belt, collection of banknotes, or
junior Fort Knox vault. Stars of today have a half-a-dozen things
going for them— oil wells, real estate, horses, breeding farms, radio
and TV stations, baseball clubs, chain stores, etc. Most of yester-
day's rich performers made their fortunes with pure show-biz
money! With living expenses comparatively cheap and no taxes,
they made net almost as much as the stars of today who receive
much larger salaries, but they don't add up to so much "take to
the bank" pay!
You could almost have given a party at Rector's, Churchill's, or
Shanley's for what a tab for two at the Stork Club, Twenty-One,
the Colony, or Chambord comes to I A $50,000 estate in those days
was equal to one of $250,000 today. Servants and help were cheap.
A star had a valet or maid who worked at the theater as well as at
home and who also acted as secretary, etc. Today a star's payroll
includes a private press agent, personal rep, secretary, valet, writers,
musicians, and at least half-a-dozen hangers-on; office rent, trans-
portation, and advertising are additional expenses. The old-timers
paid no taxes (until 1913— and then only about i per cent, I be-
lieve), and the buck was worth a buck! They did eight shows a
week in legit and two a day in vaude, and never heard of psy-
chiatrists or ulcers. No worries about "capital-gains deals" or how
much the other fellow was getting,, and yet they made plenty of
dough and got plenty of laughs.
At the Theater Comique (a honky-tonk) they paid the Boisettes
and the Garnellas, two acrobatic acts, $300 each, and the cheapest
act on the bill got $75. Expenses of the house were $3,200 a week,
and they played to $4,500 a week for many months. This was
in 1879!
BIG PAY CHECKS 251
In 1895 Oscar Hammerstein paid Yvette Guilbert $4,000 a week
for a four-week ran at his Olympia Theater. She played to $60,000
during her stay. In 1900 he paid Williams & Walker $1,750 a week
and Proctor paid 7em $2,000. In 1906 Huber paid $9,000 to Libbera^
"The Man with Two Bodies." He hired Madison Square Garden
(the old one) for February and March, because his small museum
on Fourteenth Street couldn't possibly get him his dough back
for this high-salaried attraction. Remember, this was a museum
act!
Eva Tanguay was getting $500 a week in 1907 and in a few years
had jumped to $2,500; Cecilia Loftus was getting $2,000; Peter
Dailey, $1,000; Marie Lloyd, $1,200; Vesta Victoria, $2,500 (then
$3,000— highest-priced act in vaude); Elsie Janis, $2,500, Lauder
came over for Klaw & Erlanger for $2,500 and later reached $5,000
for William Morris (with Morris paying the English managers
$1,000 a week for Mr. Lauder's release). A couple of years later
Blanche Ring received $1,500; Denman Thompson (Old Home-
stead fame) got $2,100; Gertrude Hoffman & Co., $3,000; Albert
Chevalier, $1,600.
James J. Jeffries received $3,000 a week at the Wigwam in Frisco.
Bayes & Norworth got $1,750 (later got much more). Marcus
Loew offered George M. Cohan $10,000 to play a week for him,
and George M. said no (that was practically like $50,000 today).
Lina Cavalieri at the London Music Hall received $5,000, the
highest salary ever paid over there for a single. Sarah Bernhardt, in
her first vaude plunge, was paid $4,000 a week by Sir Alfred Butt.
Buffalo Bill was signed by Frank Evans for $3,000 a week. Nat
Goodwin signed his weekly pay check for $2,500, Amelia Bingham
for $2,000, and Jacob Adler (the famous Jewish actor) got $1,300
a week!
In 1911 Leoncavallo (composer of Pagliacci} and orchestra
received $5,000 a week in London. In 1912 Caruso received $3,000
a concert in the United States. He got $8,000 a night in Buenos
Aires (eighty-four grand in all) with the proviso that he must sing
at least two songs a night. Two years later Al Jalson got $2,500
at the Brighton Beach Theatre. Ten years later he broke away
from Columbia Records, where he got $7,000 a side, and went to-
Brunswick, where he got $10,000 per release. In 1929 he broke
Coast records in pic houses. At the Warfield Theatre in Frisco
he played to $57,000 on percentage. The next year, at the Capitol,..
Lefty's Letters 252
New York, Jolson got $20,000 on a 5050 percentage deal over
$ioQ,cco; he did about $80,000. Show folks were betting he would
do over $100,000 (and lost). He did five and six shows a day and
would have gone way over $100,000, but he changed his songs
ever}' show, and the audience would stay to hear the new songs, and
so cut down the "turnover." The management went wild, but Al
was only interested in "getting over."
In 1913 Wilkie Bard got $3,250, John Bunny nabbed $1,000 for
a monologue, Mike Bernard signed with Columbia Records for
$10,000 a year to make a few records twice a year. The Singer
Midgets had a funny contract; they received $1,000 a week clear,
the Loew Circuit paying all expenses— hotel bills, food, and travel
—for the thirty-three people, animals, animal trainers, etc. (which
amounted to real big money). In 1915 Jess Willard got $4,000 a
week (and didn't draw). John McCormack, the famous Irish
tenor, asked for $25,000 a week, based on his concert-tour guarantee
of $1,500 a concert, fourteen shows a week, etc, Managers gasped
a loud no!
George Robey was in 1918 the highest taxpayer in England, pay-
ing $60,000. That same year Mary Pickford paid Uncle Sam $300,-
ooo. Shubert Vaude paid Nora Bayes $3,500 (she later received
$5,000 in pic houses). Will Rogers got $3,000 from Schubert
Vaude, but he made six and seven grand a week on his concert
tours, besides his after-dinner speeches and pics and newspaper
articles. The Dolly Sisters played two houses a week and got $5,000.
In 1924 Dempsey's income tax was $90,000; his manager, Doc
Kearns, paid $71,000. Kearns and Dempsey sometimes split their
earnings in vaude. Kearns introduced Jack at the State and did a
short bit "in one" with him and got $2,500 for his bit (the highest-
priced straight man in show biz in 1924). Dempsey got $8,000 a
week for four weeks at Luna Park, Berlin. It was 1924 that Gilda
Gray, at the Metropolitan Theatre in L.A., got $14,000 for her
share—and it was Holy Week! Paul Whiteman and his band re-
ceived $7,500 at Keith's Hippodrome, New York— top vaude salary
at that time. A few years later the pic houses paid him $12,000 and
paid for the transportation of thirty-three men. He gave the full
show on the bills. It was the year the pic houses, with their large
capacities, were skyrocketing salaries. Regular big-time acts that
had been getting $500 to $750 were getting $1,500 to $3,000 a week
from the pic houses. Ina Claire was getting $3,000 a week in vaude.
BIG PAY CHECKS 253
Gertrude Lawrence, doing five sliows a day at the Paramount
(Chariot's Revue Unit), collected $3,500 a week for herself. Ruth
Elder signed for twenty-five weeks at $5,000 a week. The Lee Kids
(Jane & Kathryn), the first vande and talking act to play the
Metropolitan at Los Angeles, got $2,000 for the week. It was 1927
that the most exploited individual of the century, Lindbergh, was
offered the most fantastic salaries ever heard of in show biz:
$100,000 for a twenty-eight-day tour doing two shows a day; $25,000
a week at the Roxy; $500,000 a year in pics; $100,000 for one week
to play a theater on the Coast. (This was the absolute top figure
that anybody was ever offered anyplace! And they meant it— and
no doubt would even have showed a profit.) Al Woods, after hear-
ing all the offers, said, 'Til take his cat for $10,000 a week." He
received 3,500,000 letters, 100,000 telegrams, seven million busi-
ness offers. One pic company wanted to pay him a million bucks
if he would marry any girl of his own choosing (nice of them) and
let them photograph the wedding. He received thousands of mar-
riage proposals, three invites to go to the moon via a rocket, 14,000
gifts, and 500 close(?) relations asked for dough. He got more
letters from women than from men. Over $100,000 in stamps were
enclosed for return postage. So you can see he could have been
the highest salaried act in vaude— but he settled for $2,500 a week
with the Guggenheim Foundation for five years.
Peaches Browning did big in vaude playing on percentage. Amos
'n' Andy received $5,000 a week for Keith-Albee dates, and $7,500
in pic houses. Fanny Brice got a $3,5oo-a-week guarantee and per-
centage from Keith. Maurice Chevalier turned down $5,000 to sing
six songs at a Clarence Mackay party because he had to pay com-
mission— he never paid commission, he said.
Eddie Cantor got $7,500 single at the Palace (tied Ed Wynn),
and in 1931 with the Cantor-Jessel Unit his end was $8,000, which
was tops for a single on the Big Time (not pic houses). Rudy
Vallee started at $3,000 at the Paramount in Brooklyn and was
raised to $4,500 (he stayed two and a half years). Ed Wynn (in
1931) received $7,500 as M.C. (tying Eddie Cantor) at the Palace
eighteen years after he was on the opening Palace bill. The Marx
Bros, got a sweet $10,000 a week at the Palace (a very big act) , the
highest-priced act in vaude.
In 1921 Vallee, Maurice Chevalier, and Amos V Andy were the
only new actor millionaires in three years I
Lefty's Letters 254
Gene Tunney got $7,000 at Loews State. Van & Schenck made
$4,500 at the Chicago Theatre and sweetened It up by doubling in
a cafe and getting $3,500 more. Lou Holtz "Sole-Mioed" for $4,250
and went to $6,000. Kate Smith in 1921 was playing full weeks for
$3,500 and got $7,000 in pic houses. Maurice Chevalier got $12,000
at the Chicago Theatre (house lost $15,000) . When Aimee Sernple
McPheison played at the Capitol, New York, for $5,000, the house
lost $20,000. Ben Bernie & Band got $6,500, the same for Fred
Waring, and Ted Lewis and his group got $7,500!
Guy Lombardo and his show toured for Standard Oil of New
Jersey for ten grand a week (free admissions). Joe Penner went
from $950 a week to $8,000 a week in three months. One week he
got $13,250 (on percentage). It was all due to his terrific radio
build-up. (Did seven shows a day in some houses.) Sally Rand
started at the Chicago Fair in 1933 for $125 a week and ended up
getting $5,000. Ethel Waters, playing pic houses, received $4,500,
which up to then was tops for a Negro performer. Later Lena
Home and Josephine Baker topped this.
Eddie Cantor at the RKO, Boston, got $25,000 for a six-day
week— he carried six people with his unit (whom of course he had
to pay). Jimmy Durante got $5,000 a week in London, which was
the top American single salary up to then. In 1929 Bea Lillie got
$6,500, and Dempsey, for "Roadside Inn/7 received $6,500, Cantor
got $7,500 for endorsement of Old Gold cigarettes (Jolson only
got $2,500). In 1932 the most important draws were, one, pic per-
sonalities, two, musical comedy stars, and three, radio, followed by
vaude headliners! It was this year that Loew paid big dough to
acts for his de luxe pic houses to cover up a siege of bad pics. They
did this to keep their patronage; once a customer switched to
another theater, it was tough to get him back. Loew paid Belle
Baker $4,000 (she got $2,500 from Keith), and Sophie Tucker
$7,500 (she got $2,500 from Keith), etc. Loew played the tops
and paid the top salaries for about eight weeks, until the pic
drought was over!
Through his appearance on the Vallee radio show, Edgar Ber-
gen's salary jumped from $300 to $2,800 (and got much bigger
later) . Helen Morgan, at Loew's State (her first time in vaude
after two years), got $2,500. Rubinoff, who made his rep on the
Eddie Cantor radio show, was getting $6,000 a week in pic houses.
Kay Kyser & Band, on percentage deals, pulled down $26,000 at
BIG PAY CHECKS 255
Fox, Detroit. In 1931 East & Dumke ("Sisters of the Skillet")
through their radio build-up jumped from $350 to $1,500.
Radio did a lot to boost vaude salaries. In 1926 Cantor got
$1,500 for fifteen minutes, and the next year Amos V Andy
jumped from $2 50 a week to $2,000.
Of course when you start hitting 1943 and up you get into the
real crazy era of salaries. Sinatra with $15,000 guarantee and 50
per cent of* the gross gets himself around forty-one Gs at the
Chicago Theatre. Danny Kaye packs a bundle of $79,000 for two
weeks at the same place, with same guarantee, only Danny did it
in two weeks! But Major Bowes was making $100,000 a week at
one time with his Amateur Units, radio, and Capitol job! He paid
his male amateurs $50 on the road and the gals got $60. (I guess
he realized that gals needed more money to live.) When his units
went down to $2oo,ooo-a-year income, he gave it up as not worth
while bothering with. At one time he had gross units bringing
in $900,000 a year! (And the guy paid the kids fifty and sixty
bucks! — doing as many shows a day as called for, riding on buses,
and sleeping in flea bags — that's what you get for being stage-
struck! We did the same thing, but had laughs with it.) The
Major left a lot of money to charity!
High salaries of the '405 included Jack Benny's $40,000 at the
Roxy (paying for his own show), then $92,000 in Detroit and
Cleveland; Bob Hope's $40,000 at the Paramount; Grace Moore,
$20,000 at the Roxy; the De Marcos, $5,000, a new high for a dance
team. However, years ago the Castles did a week of one-night
stands to a sweet $31,000, Lillian Russell was paid $2,500 a week,
and the Dolly Sisters were guaranteed $2,000 a week at the Hotel
Knickerbocker.
How about Milton Berle with fifteen Gs for four days at the
Copacabana in Florida, and his ten grand a week in cafes and TV
shows? Jess Willard got $1,000 a day with the 101 Ranch, as did
Tom Mix, and Gene Autry doubled that, I believe, with Barnum
& Bailey, besides his pics, records, and royalties on clothes for the
kiddies!
A guy by the name of Bing Crosby was not doing too badly.
In 1948 his royalties from records were $650,000 and his radio
brought in another $650,000, besides his pics, publishing house,
and his interests in a hundred things from orange juice to gadgets.
Lefty's Letters 2SS
The boy can match bankbooks with anyone. Did you know that
Red Grange (who played vaude), got $47,000 as his share on a
percentage deal for one game in Los Angeles? The gate was $130,-
oco gross. Of course, if you wanna call fights entertainment, the
highest-paid entertainers were pugilists, Dempsey and Tunney were
tops? and Joe Louis didn't do so bad either.
Mae West, Hildegarde, Charlie Chaplin, Bill Hart, George M.
Cohan, Joe E. Lewis, Jackie Gleason, Abbott & Costello, Judy
Garland, Betty Hutton, and Olsen & Johnson were all top earners.
And how about the $70,000 that Martin & Lewis dragged down
at the Paramount for a week's wages? I could mention many more
of todays stars like Billy Daniels, Johnny ("Cry") Ray, Frankie
Laine, Billy Eckstein, etc. But these guys all did it the hard way. To-
day it all adds up to big grosses, really small "nets," and a lot of hard
work.
The old-timers made money so much easier. They played to
people who didn't yell and scream when you mentioned Brooklyn,
or dance up and down the aisles, or tear you apart for an autograph.
They were nice respectable audiences, who had reserved seats and
feelings.
And when you talk about big dough, there's a kid from vaude
you just cant leave out; that's Walter Winchell. His $1,352,00x5
Kaiser-Frazer pay-off for ninety broadcasts, his syndicated column,
his TV show, and the two-dollar bets he makes on long shots
makes him one of the top income guys in show biz. Another kid
by the name of Arthur Godfrey, who is on TV and radio so many
hours a day he has no chance to spend his dough, also has a very
neat income.
But a very funny thing about show biz that me and Aggie have
seen through the years is that some guy dies who you think never
earned a dime and leaves a "'bundle," and the guys who made a lot
of dough may not end up with enough for their lawyers to even
pay the inheritance tax.
We hope that none of the present-day stars will ever need a bene-
fit, and by the looks of their bankbooks, they won't; they worked
hard (much harder than the old stars) for every penny, without
the laughs and the ease of the old-timers.
But me and Aggie say that the little frankfurters we bought at
Coney Island for five cents tasted much better than the jumbo
MEMORIES WITH LAUGHS 257
franks they peddle now for fifteen cents — and so no matter how
much dough they have, against Rockefeller— they're still bums!—
SEZ
Your pd7
LEFTY
Memories witlt I*auglis
Dear Joe,
It's funny how certain things stand out in your mind after years
have passed, and how you have forgotten other things until you
start punching the bag about show biz and memories come
trickling back. This is especially true about things that made you
laugh. For instance, I remember the time when . . .
Johnny Stanley, one of Broadway's fine wits and wisecrackersr
came to rehearsal one Monday morning at Hammerstein's, and had
George May, the musical director, and his men' rehearse his music
for half an hour, making them play it over and over again. There
were many acts waiting to rehearse and finally George said, "All
right, Johnny, you know we always play your stuff O.K." Johnny
thanked him and was about to walk away when George looked at
his list of the show and said, "Say, Johnny r I haven't got you down
on my list of acts that's on the bill. Are you replacing someone?'7
"No," said Johnny, "I ain't working here this week, George, but it's
been so long since I've worked I just wanted to hear how my music
sounds!"
The time when Wilton Lackaye was getting over a two-week
bender. The boys from the Lambs came to visit him in his two-
room suite. While some of them were talking to him in the bed-
room, a couple of the boys sneaked in two dwarfs (not midgets-
dwarfs are deformed), who stripped naked, got up on the large
table in the sitting room, and held the large bowl of fruit. The
other boys got the sign that everything was O.K., so said good-by
Lefty's Letters 258
to Wilton and left. When Lackaye got up a short time later to go
to the bathroom and saw the Baked dwarfs holding the dish of
fruit he blinked, let out a yell, and staggered back to the bedroom.
The boys, who were waiting outside, rushed in and asked what was
the matter? Lackaye told them that he was getting the D.T.s, that
he saw naked dwarfs holding a fruit dish. By now, the dwarfs had
dressed and sneaked out, and Lackaye was led out to the sitting
room and shown that there was nothing there. He blinked again,
took a couple of drinks, and went off on a fresh bender. When the
boys told him later what they did, he thought they were kidding.
He never believed them I
The time Luke Barnett, the king of ribbers, was introduced to
Jack Lait, the noted editor and playwright, at the Friars Club. Jack
was told that Luke was a Polish millionaire who owned coal mines
and was looking for a play for his stage-struck son. "I hear you are
a writer of plays, Mr. Lit/7 said Luke in his rich Polish dialect.
"Yes, I write plays/' said Jack modestly. "Well, I will give you a
check for $25,000 in advance if you will write a play for my boy."
Jack's eyes almost popped, and he started "selling" Luke an idea.
Luke was very interested. Jack ordered drinks, Luke ordered drinks,
Jack wove a beautiful plot right in front of Luke's eyes? he was
entranced, took out his checkbook, made out a check, misspelled
Jack's name7 tore it up, and started on another one (some more
drinks). Lait was pouring it on, but whenever Luke was about to
sign the check, he raised some kind of an argument about the play's
plot and in a drunken rage tore up the check. He was cooled down
again and Lait again started "selling" him the show. Again the
check business, again a fit of rage and he tore it up. This kept up all
night. Jack was sweating plenty, and nobody laughed louder than
Jack did when he was finally told that it was a rib.
The time when Jimmy Hussey (that lovable comic) was intro-
duced to Louis Mann, by George ML Cohan, as Paul Keith, the
owner of the Keith Circuit. Mann had just signed for a short
route on the Keith Circuit and was delighted to meet the great
Mr. Keith. During the drinking and talking Jimmy Hussey (as
Paul Keith) asked Louis to show him his route. Louis did this and
Jimmy started fixing it up. "Instead of one week in Boston, I want
you there for two weeks, Louis, I'm up there a lot and we'll have a
nice time." And looking at the route he switched a week here and
there, because it was too big a jump, etc,, and when he finished
MEMORIES WITH LAUGHS 259
Louis Mann had the sweetest route ever given to anybody; and to
finish it off, Jimmy whispered to Louis that he would see that he
got a better salary. Even Louis bought a round of drinks! He never
knew until the next day when he went to the office (to get his new
route) that it all was a rib. Hussey ducked Mann for months. It
took Louis that long to cool off.
The time when some clown nailed a dead fish to the bottom of
the table in the dining room of the old Comedy Club. For days
everybody tried to find out where the terrible odor came from.
They opened all the windows and even stopped sitting with certain
members.
The time Charlie Judels, during World War I, dressed like a
French sailor and, surrounded by high-ranking French officers who
were here on a mission, and many of the Lambs, attended a cere-
mony on the steps of the New York Public Library at Fifth Avenue
and Forty-second Street. Judels made a speech in "French/' the
officers applauded him, and many bonds were sold. When they all
got back to the Lambs, someone asked the Frenchmen did they
understand Judels? They said just partly because he came from a
different part of France than they did, but they understood enough
to know it was a fine speech. No one ever told them that Charlie
was doing "double talk/* He never spoke a word of French in his
lifel
The time when Will Rogers, at a dinner given by the Jewish
Theatrical Guild to Eddie Cantor, made a speech in pure Yiddish
for twenty minutes, then translated it. It was a riot. (Must have
taken him a month to learn.)
The time when Bert Fitzgibbons' brand-new shoes hurt so much
that he took them off while standing against Mark Aaron's bar
next door to the Palace. Morris, the call boy, came in to tell him
he would be on in a few minutes. Bert tried to put his shoes on,
but his feet were swollen. So Bert took his shoes in hand, went on
the stage in his stocking feet, and did a lo-minute monologue about
swollen feet and new shoes. Big laughs!
Tommy Dugan (Dugan & Raymond), the greatest of all dead-
pan comics, would go into a picture show and read the titles out
loud, being shushed by everybody, and things would end up in
almost a riot when he argued that he couldn't read to himself, he
had to read out loud to understand what the picture meant, he was
Lefty's Letters 280
an American citizen, paid for his ticket, etc. etc. He always finished
up by getting his money back from the management.
Sid Grauman was a great practical joker. He once filled a softly
lighted room with wax figures and had a certain film exec speak to
them about censorship, telling him they were representative censors
of the different states. The man never got wise until one wax figure
happened to fall over.
You would never believe me if I told you the names of the real
big guys in show biz who fell for "the trainman's daughter'7! It was
usually worked from Wolpin's and Lindy's restaurants. The gag
was to tell the ufall guy" about a beautiful gal on the West Side,
who was the daughter of a trainman who worked nights. All you
had to do was to bring her a strawberry pie (or any messy pie in
season) and you'd have a date. It was all done in an offhand
manner by expert ribbers. The victim would buy the pie, which
was carried by his guide, and would be taken to a certain tenement
on the West side that had small gas lights in the halls. As they got
to the top floor, he would call ''Anna. Anna/' At this moment one
of the boys planted on the top floor would look over the banister
and yell, "So you are the So-and-Sos who are ruining my Anna! I'll
kill you!" With that he would throw an old electric bulb, which
would explode and sound like a shot from a gun. By now both
guys were racing down the steps, and the guide would manage in
the excitement to throw the gooey pie into the victim's face, and
as they ran up the street, the fellows in on the gag, who were
hidden in doorways, would keep throwing bulbs. Both guys would
run back to Wolpin's or Lindy's with the victim scared to death
and the victim's face covered with pie! When I tell you that a
"smarty" like the late Wilson Mizner (the wisest of all wise guys)
went for this, you can imagine how the other un-smarties went for
it. It got so bad that the police of the West Forty-seventh Street
station gave orders to quit it. (They were in on it for years and
got many a laugh out of the gag.)
The time when Arthur Caeser (a Pulitzer Prize winner for his
one-act play, "Napoleon's Barber") got the number of a phone in
the hall of a tenement in the Bronx. He called and asked for Mr.
Cohen (the building maybe had a half a dozen) and told him that
the musicians he ordered for the party would be a little late, but
not to worry. Mr. Cohen said angrily that he didn't order any musi-
cians, he had no party, and anyway it was 9 P.M. and everybody was
MEM DRIES WITH LAUGHS 261
asleep, and he had to get up early, so please stop "boddering" him.
Fifteen minutes later Arthur called again and apologized, saying he
had made a mistake in the address but as long as the musicians
were on their way the union rules demanded that they had to play
where they were sent even if it was just for half an hour, so they
could prove they worked. By now Mr. Cohen was raving, saying
that this was a respectable house, they would wake everybody up,
he wouldn't let them play, he'd call the police, etc. Now Arthur got
a bit angry, and his argument was, "You're a union man? You
won't let other union men make a living? It won't cost you a penny,
I tell you. They should be there any minute. Please like a good
fellow let them play." Some time later he called Mr. Cohen again
and told him it was all a mistake, the musicians got to the right
place, not to worry, etc., etc., way into the night. You just can't
write those things, but me and Aggie sure laugh when we even
think of that night!
Johnny Johnston was told not to let Little Billy (a midget) leave
the Friars to join a party that was being given that night, because
Billy needed his rest, as he was to open the next day. Johnny sta-
tioned himself outside the door of the Friars. One of the boys put
Little Billy over his arm, threw an overcoat over him and walked
past Johnston. He never could figure how Little Billy got out!
The time George M. Cohan and Willie Collier cut cards (strip-
pers) for $1,000 a cut. (They did this to rib Louis Mann.) In a
few hours Collier had won $100,000 in cash and also two of
Cohan's theaters. Everybody was looking on, all hep that it was a
rib, but Louis figured Cohan was drunk and didn't realize what he
was doing. He pleaded with Cohan to stop and told Collier what
he thought of him, taking advantage of Cohan's condition, etc.
When Collier finally said to Cohan, "Listen, George, 111 give you a
chance to get even. I will now play you one cut of the cards for
Sam Harris" (Cohan's partner), it was then that Louis Mann
tumbled it was a rib!
The time in Atlantic City when Jack Norworth and Nora Bayes
were breaking in a young piano player, Dave Stamper (later a
noted composer, who wrote the music for many Ziegfeld Follies).
Norworth told Stamper he didn't look very good as a straight piano
player, and it would be a novelty if he made up like a Jap, and
proceeded to teach him how to make up for it. He bought a load
of make-up and Stamper started to make up at 10 A.M. and every
Lefty's Letters 262
time he would put a make-up on, Jack would say, "Nope, try it
again." By matinee time Dave's face was raw. During the week
newspapermen would ask for an interview with the little Jap piano
player (only one of his kind), and Jack would say, "He just left
the theater." Dave was standing there all the time.
Another time when Jack and Dave would cut cards in the dress-
ing room for ten cents a cut. Jack (a very good amateur magician)
was using a strip deck, and before Dave knew it, he owed Jack
$2,500. He became panicky, He was only getting about $100 a week
and had a family to support. He would double the bets, figuring he
had to win sometime and so would get even. Week after week this
kept on, until finally Jack told him he would give him a chance to
get even. They would cut for the high card for the money Dave
owed against Dave taking out Nora Bayes* two dogs every morning,
noon, and evening for the rest of the season (which Jack was
doing) . Dave grabbed at the chance, they cut the cards— and Dave
took the dogs out for the rest of the season and never found out
about the strip deck until the end of the season. Norworth would
spend hundreds of dollars to put a gag over.
The time a gag didn't turn out so funny. I thought it was a cruel
idea, and was done thoughtlessly. Ward & Yokes were starring in
their own show, and there was a member of the company who was
a pretty tight guy with a buck. After the show he would go and
buy a drink for himself and never treat anybody. Hap Ward
claimed he could get him to buy drinks for everybody in the com-
pany. The whole company bet him he couldn't (unbeknownst to
the victim, of course) . W. & V. spent almost $500 to have fake lot-
tery tickets and a result sheet printed. Everybody bought a ticket,
including the ''sucker," who got a "certain" ticket. After a month
Hap announced that he had received the result sheet, and every-
body checked their tickets with him and nobody won. When the
victim came in the saloon that night for his regular glass of beer,
Hap told him that nobody in the company had hit the winning
ticket. "By the way, you have a ticket. What's the number?" The
man dug in his grouch bag and brought out his ticket. Hap checked
it with the sheet and yelled, "You won! You won $25,000!" The
guy almost fainted. He ordered champagne for everybody (he had
to be talked into it, but finally came through), but they couldn't
drink the grape when he said, "The first thing I got to do is to call
up my brother in New York and tell him he doesn't have to worry
MEMORIES WITH LAUGHS 283
any more. He can have that operation that may save his life."
Ward & Yokes paid the tab! That's one time there was no laugh
finish.
The time an actor found a large bone near the stage door, and
for a gag brought it in the dressing room and with another actor
decided to play a joke on Sim Collins (Collins & Hart). On the
last night, they opened Sim's trunk (had a key made) and put the
bone at the bottom of it. When Sim came off the stage, he threw
his clothes in the trunk, locked it, and soon it was on its way to the
next stand. When he opened the trunk and got his stuff out, he
was surprised to see the large bone, and couldn't figure out how it
got there. He threw it in the wastebasket. The actors quickly
recovered it, hid it until pack-up night, and again put it in Sim's
trunk. Again Sim was surprised to find the bone. This time he
threw it out in the alley, where it was recovered by the boys, and
the same routine repeated. When Sim found it in the next town,
he wrapped it in paper, took a long walk into the country (followed
by the actors), and finally threw it away in a field. Again it was
recovered and stuck in his trunk. At the next stand, he was smiling
when he opened the trunk, by now figuring it was some kind of a
gag but he had outfoxed 'em — and let out a yell when he again
found the bone in the trunk! He had the janitor put it in the
furnace and stood there watching it burn to ashes! The next week
he found in his trunk a tiny chicken bone!
The time Bert Swor, the great minstrel, and his brother John
were practically stranded in Chicago and had just about enough
dough to get back to New York by buying cut-rate tickets. In those
days you could buy these cut-rate tickets in almost every big city.
People would buy a round trip for only a few more bucks than a
one-way fare and sell the return stub to "specs" who made a busi-
ness of it, and so make a little profit on their trip. The railroad
people tried to stop this practice by making the purchaser sign his
name on the ticket and, when using the return stub, sign it again in
front of the conductor, who would compare the signatures, and if
it wasn't satisfactory, you were out of luck. The smart guys, when
buying the tickets originally, would sign a simple name like Joe
Smith and write their name very plainly (that was an easy ticket to
sell to specs). But some really signed their own names and these
of course sold for much less to the specs and to the final purchaser.
The Swor brothers bought two tickets, one signed Joe Jones, the
Lefty's Letters 264
other Uli Soferkauefsky! John practiced writing Joe Jones and did
swell, but Bert had a tough time trying to even read Soferkauefsky,
let alone write it He told John to get on the train and not to
worry about him.
Bert got a quart of liquor, sprinkled some of it (very little) on his
clothes, and took a couple of good internal swigs. He made himself
very objectionable to the passengers, acting very drunk. When the
conductor asked him for his ticket, he told him he had already given
it to him. The conductor, realizing his condition, told him to look
through his pockets and he was sure he'd find it, and he'd come
back for it. Bert kept mumbling to the other passengers that he
gave the conductor his ticket. Again the conductor came back and
again got an argument from Bert, who Lad a real Southern accent,
but was trying to talk like a Russian or Polack, figuring Soferkauef-
sky certainly wasn't a Southerner! The conductor insisted he look
through his pockets, which he did, dropping a lot of stuff, which
the conductor kept picking up. Finally, after a thorough search,
he said, "Maybe you have it in your valise?" The valise was opened
and dirty laundry etc. thrown all over the floor of the car, and the
conductor finally spied the ticket. "See, there it is. You didn't give
it to me." Then followed a crying apology by Bert, weeping all
over the conductor, who by now was disgusted with the whole
business. He took out his pen and asked Bert to sign his name on
the ticket. Bert made a few stabs at it, shaking the pen and getting
ink on the conductor's trousers. By now the conductor was fit to be
tied, and, angrily grabbing the pen, said, "Never mind!"— and
signed the ticket himself! That is how Bert got to New York! (Oh,
by the way, he used up the rest of the quart when it was all over.)
The time when the great "nut" comic, Ted Healey, had a couple
of his friends visit him in his hotel room to help him split a fifth
in three parts. One of the boys dropped a lighted cigarette in a big
armchair and set fire to it. They managed to put out the blaze, but
the chair was ruined. Ted realized the hotel would charge him for
the damage, and at that time he didn't even have enough to pay
the rent, much less pay for the damage. He borrowed a saw
from the hotel porter, cut up the chair in three parts, got paper and
twine, made a bundle of each piece, and each of the boys carried
out a bundle. The management never could figure out how a big
chair could disappear from the room, when the housekeeper re-
ported it missing. They couldn't charge him for it, because he
GRAPES OF LAUGHTER 265
claimed there never had been a chair in the room. What could
they do about it? Nothing! That's just what they did!
There were lots of laughs in those days. They don't have 'em
anymore. (Every old guy that thumbs his memory says that.) SEZ
'Your pal,
LEFTY
Grapes of Laughter
Dear Joe,
Vaudeville had many "heisters," "nose-pain ters,n and users of
liquid groceries. They were not ordinary drunks, because these men
were funny and witty even in their cups! They were admired for
their ready wit even by "spigot-bigots!" Most of them are gone, but
their escapades, stories, and wit have been preserved for us — in
alcohol I
These lost week-enders had many excuses for drinking the "silly-
milk" and "sentimental water." Some drank because they were a
hit, or because they were a flop. Some because they were lonesome,
or because they were with a lot of good company. Others because
they were broke, or because they had plenty of money. Some be-
cause of family troubles, or because they had no family to make
trouble. And many drank without an excuse!
Me and Aggie mention their names in reverence, because through
the years they gave us more laughs drunk than many of the sober
people we met. Many of them reformed, and became unfunny!
James Thornton, the great wit, monologist, and song writer, had
more stories told about him than even the famous Duffy &
Sweeney! In his vaude career he often capitalized on his alcoholic
rep. His first wife, Bonnie, is nearly always coupled with stories
told about him, because all through their long married life she
tried to keep James away from the liquor and the liquor away from
Jim. Kate, his widow, a great gal and a fine performer (originally
Lefty's Letters ZSB
introduced Jim to Bonnie), practically inherited a sober Jim.
Bonnie once locked Jim in their hotel room while she went out
shopping so he wouldn't be able to go out for any liquor, Jim got
the bellboy on the phone and ordered a pint of liquor and two
straws. He had the bellboy insert the straws through the old-
fashioned large keyhole, and Jim sipped the pint through the straws
while the bellboy held the bottle outside the locked door.
Another time, when Bonnie left orders with the clerk not to
serve Jim any liquor, Jim called the bellboy and, keeping the door
just a bit ajar, spoke to an imaginary guest in the room. "What
will you have, Harry? Rye? Fine. I'm on the wagon I'll just take a
lemonade." Turning to the bellboy, "My friend wants a rye and
111 have a lemonade/' This order was repeated a dozen times dur-
ing the afternoon, and when Bonnie came back she found Jim
passed out and a dozen untouched lemonades on the dresser.
Someone once asked Jim why he was always stewed (which he
wasn't), "I like the idea of being drunk continuously. It eliminates
hangovers!"
One of the classic Thornton stories is the one about the time he
and his drinking companion, George C. Davis (who was also a fine
monologist), were on a two-week bender and ran out of funds.
While Jim always remained immaculate during a spree, George
was exactly the opposite; after a few drinks he looked as if he had
rolled in the gutter (which he often had). So you can imagine
how he looked after two weeks, unshaven, filthy clothes and linen,
etc. They were walking along Broadway and Jim asked a friend to
loan him two dollars. The friend, seeing Jim's condition, said no.
"Make it one dollar," pleaded Jim. "No," said the friend once
again. 'Then how about a quarter?" insisted Jim, This time the
friend practically shouted no. "Is that final?" asked Jim. "It cer-
tainly is," said the friend. Jirn slowly turned to George and in his
low-down solemn tones said, "George, throw a louse on himl"
Just a few years before he passed on he said, "I'm not drinking
any more. I figure I have established a high average and I wouldn't
advise anybody to try to tie it!"
Next to Jim Thornton, there have been the most stories told
about James Terence Duffy and Fredrick Chase Sweeney. They
jvere both good performers and had a wonderful sense of burlesque
and satire. Duffy was a good writer and Sweeney was a good rider
(he started as a bicycle rider) . I remember the time Duffy got into
GRAPES OF LAUGHTER 267
an argument with a Chicago gangster. He was taken aside by a
mutual friend, who told him, "Jimmy, be careful, he is a gangster
and gets very nasty when he gets a few drinks under his belt." "Yeh,
I know/7 mumbled Jimmy, "but I don't have to worry. He's wear-
ing suspenders tonight!7' Another time, when Jimmy (a devout
Catholic) was just getting over a four-dayer, he said, "Fm so
nervous I could throw pool balls at the Pope!"
Once when Jimmy and Sweeney had been up against the bar for
about six straight hours, Sweeney suddenly fell flat on his face
and laid there. Duffy turned to the bartender and said, "That's
one thing about Sweeney, he knows when to stop!" They tell about
the time Jimmy met E. F. Albee, the head of the Keith office (who
liked Jimmy). Albee looked at Duffy and said, "Drunk again,
Jimmy. After promising me you wouldn't drink any more and after
you took the pledge too!" Jimmy looked at him with bloodshot
eyes and said, "Are you sorry to see me in this condition, Mr.
Albee?" "Yes, I am sorry," said Mr. Albee. "Are you sure you're
very sorry, Mr. Albee?" "Yes, very sorry, Jimmy," said Mr. Albee.
"Well, if you're very very very sorry— III forgive you!" said Jimmy,
and slowly staggered away. Another story about Duffy and Sweeney
was about the time they played in New Orleans and were a terrible
flop. At the finish of the act, Duffy made the following speech,
"Ladies and gentlemen, I wish to thank you all for the way you've
received our act. And to show you our appreciation, I will now
have Mr. Sweeney pass amongst you with a baseball bat and beat
the begeezes out of you!"
Maurice Barrymore was another honorary member of the liquid
fraternity. One day while standing at the bar at the Lambs, a cer-
tain member said, "Hello, Mr. Barrymore, don't you know me?"
"I didn't at first," said Barrymore, "but when you didn't buy, I
knew you right away!" He once said, "Staggering is a sign of
strength. Weak men are carried home!" Coming back from a tour,
he told the boys at the Lambs that he was arrested in Kentucky for
violation of the liquor law. "I refused to take a drink!" And when
he was getting over one of his periodicals, a friend asked him did
he want a doctor? "No, I want a snake charmerl"
His son Jack also staggered in his father's footsteps. He once
promised his manager he wouldn't take a drink on the whole tour.
The next day he came to the theater with a cute bun on. "I
thought you promised me you wouldn't drink/' said the disaj>
Lefty's Letters 2S8
pointed manager. 'Well, I had to cash a check and had to go
where they knew me/7 said Jack. Someone remarked to Jack one
night, "You are too great an artist to be drinking all the time."
"Are you a reformed drunkard?" asked Jack. "No, I'm not," said
the gentleman. 'Then why don't you reform?" asked Jack.
In the old days when alcoholics were sent to Bellevue Hospital
to sober up, someone asked William Anthony McGuire, the famous
playwright (who was quite a heister in his time) if he had ever
met James Thornton? "Oh, yes/' said Bill, "We were in stock to-
gether at Bellevue!"
Willard Mack, the famous actor-playwright, took his liquor
where he found it and they usually found him where he took his
liquor. One time at Billy LaHifFs Tavern he got a bad case of
hiccoughs. LaHiff advised Mack to eat some bread crumbs to stop
the hiccoughs. "Nope," said Bill, shaking his head, "I don't like to
interrupt!"
Big James J. Morton was a great lover of the grape and he and
Gene Hughes, the agent, were buddies. They both weighed over
250 pounds and could (and did) finish a couple of cases of cham-
pagne at a sitting. One day at the Comedy Club, Jim was telling
us a session he and Gene Hughes had had the night before. "I got
Gene so drunk that it took two bellboys to put me to bed!" He
would speak about bartenders reverently. "They are fine gentle-
men. They moisten the thirsty!" Big Jim was against Mark Aaron's
bar (next to the Palace) with Tommy Gray, a good writer and a
fine wit. After a few hours, when they were ready to leave, Tommy
stepped away from the bar and fell. "Come over here, Jim, and
pick me up/* pleaded Tommy. Big Jim turned around, looked at
Tommy on the floor, and said, "No flattery among friends, old
boy!"
In all the years I knew William Collier I never saw him intoxi-
cated! I've often seen him have a bit of an edge on, but that's all,
and IVe seen him outdrink many a veteran. As you know, he was
the fastest guy on the ad lib in the business. During prohibition a
member of the Lambs who had some family trouble was trying to
drown it by drinking up in Bill's room. He soon got one of those
crying jags on and said, "Nobody cares if I drink myself to death,
Bill/' And Bill quickly answered, "I do. You're drinking my
liquor!"
GRAPES OF LAUGHTER
289
Walter C. Kelly, "The Virginia Judge," after a big night with the
boys at the Friars, went to his room and called the clerk, saying,
"Wake me up at ten." "It is ten now, Mr. Kelly/7 said the clerk.
"Then wake me!" muttered Kelly.
Bert Leslie, the king of slang, who could handle a bottle with
the best of them, once was asked by a friend at the White Rat's
Club to sit down and have some tea. "I never touch it," said Bert,
"it makes me weakl"
Walter Catlett, one of our really great comedians, was talking
with some friends about the Men's Bar at the Waldorf, and some-
one remarked that they wrere thinking of opening a Women's Bar.
Catlett looked over his glasses and said, "What are they going to
serve, Lydia Pinkham on draft?" I asked him once, "How about
walking around the corner and having a drink, Walter?" He said,
"I have a better idea. Let's runi"
Bert Fitzgibbons (one of the best of the "nut" comics) was at a
bar pouring himself a drink into a water glass. "Say, Bert, that's
whisky you're pouring, not water!" said the bartender. Bert squinted
his eyes and said, "Do I look like a man that would drink that
much water?"
Someone told Harry Hershfield, about a certain actor who had
been a quart-a-day man, that the guy had quit drinking. Hershfield
said, "Yeh, I know. You see, when he got drunk he started buying,
so he quit drinking!"
Henry E. Dixie, one of America's great actors, liked his liquor
straight and disliked mixed drinks. He once said, "The continual
use of ice cubes in drinks will develop a race of people with black
and blue upper lips!" When a busybody once asked Dixie why he
drank, he answered, "When I drink, I think, and when I think, I
drink!"
Old Sam Morton (The Four Mortons) was playing at Hammer-
stein's on the same bill with Rajah, the snake dancer. He was stand-
ing in the wings with Mike Simon, the stage manager, when Mike
said, "Isn't she afraid the snake will bite her?" "No," said Sam,
"She ain't afraid of the snake biting her, she's worried of it hissing
herl" It was Sam who once said, "Too much of anything is not
good, but too much whisky is just enough!" There was an old
German by the name of Schmidt who owned a saloon next to
Keith's Union Square, on East Fourteenth Street. One time he was
Lefty's Letters 2™
trying to get Sam to stop drinking liquor and drink beer instead.
Sam asked him, "What's the difference?" To which old Schmidt
replied in his thick German dialect, "Visky makes you kill some-
hot}* else, but mitt beer you only kill yourself!"
At a Christmas party at the Lambs, they were serving some
liquid refreshment from a large bowl. Benjamin Hapgood Burt
(the brilliant lyricist of many Broadway shows) asked me what it
was. I said, "Punch!" "Well," said Ben, "let's punch it!" He was
a great Lamb, but when in his cups a few of the members tried to
duck him (and his sharp wit). One night when Burt was feeling
his oats (or I should say rye), he looked around an almost empty
room for someone to talk to. He spied Wilton Lackaye, who had
as his guest the famous sculptor, Gutzon Borglum. Burt staggered
over to the table and hung around until Lackaye just had to intro-
duce him to his guest. "Burt, I want you to meet the famous
sculptor, Gutzon Borglum." "Who?" asked Burt. Lackaye had to
repeat the name to make Burt understand. "It's Borglum, Borgluin,
Borglum." Finally Burt, shaking his head, said, "It sounds to me
like the breaking of wind in a bathtub!"
Someone was boasting to Walter Catlett how much he could
drink. "Why, I drink a quart a day!" Catlett gave him a look and
said, "Why, I spill that much!"
Ring Lardner was on his famous three-day toot at the Lambs.
He sat at one table all this time, just getting up once in a while to
go to the men's room. A certain member who had wild-looking
long hair kept passing his table looking at him. Ring blinked his
large owl eyes, called the man over, and said, "Would you please
tell me how you look when I am sober?"
Big Charlie Wagner, the bartender at the Friars for many years,
served a member a drink with, "This is ten-year-old stuff, so don't
be afraid of it." The man looked at the bottle, and said, "Why
Charlie, that bottle is marked two years old and you said it was ten
years old/' "Well/' shrugged Charlie, "it took me eight years to
sell it!"
I remember the time George M. Cohan, after a pretty rough
night with the boys, came in the next day and someone asked him
how he felt. "Oh, I'm all right. I got up this morning and drank
my bath!"
During the war, a very heavy drinker came to the bar at the
GRAPES OF LAUGHTER 271
Lambs and announced that he had just come from the blood bank
where he had contributed his blood. Charles O'Brien Kennedy,
the actor-poet, remarked, "What are they going to use it for,
sterilizing their instruments?"
But my favorite story is about my old friend Richard Carle, who
was a famous star of musical comedy, vaude, and pictures, Wilton
Lackaye, one of the great stars of legit and vaude, and Tom Terris,
a fine actor who was a headliner with his sketch, "Scrooge," in
vaude, and is the only survivor of the King Tut Tomb expedition,
every one of whom met an untimely death. Tom lost an eye.
It was a dismal Sunday afternoon on a real hot summer day at
the Lambs, which was deserted except for these three gentlemen.
They had no air conditioning those days, only a rotating fan at
the end of the bar. There were a few dim amber lights to make it
look cool. Wilton Lackaye was at one end of the bar facing the
rotating electric fan, Tom Terns at the other end of the bar, when
Dick Carle, starting on a bender, came in and asked Mike the
bartender for a scotch and soda. He was served, and after another
one, started to look around. He saw Lackaye (who did not like to
be disturbed when drinking) facing the fan. As everybody knows,
Lackaye wore a heavy toupee, and, because of the heat, the glue on
it had loosened up so that when the breeze from the rotating fan
would hit it, it would raise about half an inch, and as the breeze
passed the toupee would go back in place. Carle couldn't believe
his eyes and watched the toupee with fascination. He kept ordering
scotch and sodas and glancing sideways at Lackaye's hair still going
up and down, feeling that he was getting a bit drunk and maybe
was imagining this.
Finally, after a few more scotch and sodas, lie turned his face
away from Lackaye and looked at Tom Terris, who was standing
next to him. Tom had a glass eye to replace the one he lost while
on the King Tut Expedition. Dick looked at the eye, then looked
closer, and saw a fly walking around the eyel By now Dick thought
he was on the D.T. train, so gulped his drink and yelled, "Let me
out of here." It so happened that at this time the Hippodrome
(at Forty-fourth Street and Sixth Avenue) was just through with
the matinee and the Singer Midgets, who were playing there, were
going to RosofFs Restaurant, which was a few doors past the
Lambs. When Dick Carle came out of the door of the Lambs, he
Lefty's Letters 272
saw forty midgets. He took one look and yelled to a taxi driver,
"Quick, driver, get me to Bellevuei"
""A grand lot of Merry Andrews who drank their liquor "straight"
and used "laughs" as chasers! SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
Dear Joe,
There has been so much written and said about the Cherry
Sisters that I thought me and Aggie should add our bit.
They were like the sterling mark on silver, only different— in
show biz the Cherry Sisters meant lousy!
Known as the "vegetable twins/' Effie and Addie played Harn-
merstein's Olympia (where the Bond Clothing Company now
stands) on Broadway in 1896. They played behind a net for eight
weeks at $500 per and that "direct from Broadway" billing kept
them going for years in smaller towns. The idea of playing behind
a net to encourage the audience to throw vegeables at the actors
wasn't new. In the 18705 Shakespearian actors (?) like James Owen
O'Connor, Count Johannes, and Dr. Landis hammed it with
Hamlet (all worked behind a screen) and got rich from the box
office. Many came just to try out their pitching arms with eggs
and vegetables. It was Oscar, not Willie Hammerstein, who got the
idea of using a screen in front of these gals. The papers said they
were "so bad they were good." Years later Billy Rose tried to bring
back the idea at the Casino de Paree during the time we had
Prohibition, and it died. His ads read, "Sunday Nite— Amateur
Nite. Come and throw vegetables at actors!" A few drunks threw
ice cubes and almost blinded the performers. (They were not
amateurs but hired for the occasion and didn't know about the ads
inviting the audience to throw things.) It was a terrific flop, not
funny, but very sad!
THE CHERRY SISTERS 273
One of the stories the Cherry Sisters told about why vegetables
were heaved at ?em was that It was started by managers who tried
to "make 'em/' To get the angle of how funny that is, I must tell
you what kind of an act they did. There were originally five Cherry
Sisters, who appeared in their home town of Marion, Iowa, in a
sketch with songs called "The Gypsy's Warning!" The girls
wanted to visit the Chicago World's Fair of 1893, an^ to ra*se ^e
coin, they hired Green's Opera House, Cedar Rapids, to stage their
show. The audiences made funny noises (long before the official
raspberry) but the performance went on.
When they saw the notice In the morning paper they sued for
libel. The case was heard in the theater, and after the judge saw
"The Gypsy's Warning" he gave the verdict to the newspaper.
Eventually deaths cut down the act to a duo, Addle and Effie. But
they worked as a trio for some time.
Addie and Effie did Salvation Army girls. They were tall and
thin, while Jessie was short and plump. They wore drum major
costumes and sang about themselves to the tune of "Ta-ra-ra-Boom-
dee-ay.n They had voices like the rattle of an empty coal scuttle.
'Tor Fair Columbia" was sung by Jessie, the composer. A ballad,
"My Daddy and Mama Were Irish," composed by Lizzie (the
absent one), was sung by Addie and Effie in calico gowns, white
aprons, and straw hats. Jessie then sang "The Bicycle Ride." Next
Effie came on wearing a pair of gray trousers, Prince Albert coat,
high hat, and small mustache and carrying a grip, and sang "The
Traveling Man." Other numbers were "Corn Juice" by Jessie, and
"Gypsy Warning" by Addie, Effie, and Jessie. And they finished
with a tableaux, "Clinging to the Cross," and for an encore, "The
Goddess of Liberty."
Now that just gives you an idea of the act. When the audience
got noisy, it was nothing for Addie to walk to the footlights and
say, "If you don't keep quiet we will ring down the curtain; we
ain't desirous to sing here tonight, no how."
They changed their act at times; Effie also sang, "She Was My
Sister and Oh, How I Missed Her." And she talked about every-
thing from Prohibition to the Equity Strike. (This was on their
"comeback.") They wanted to clean up the stage and to close
theaters on Sundays. They didn't dance because they claimed it
was immoral, so all they did on the stage were recitations and
singing.
Leftfs Letters 274
They went back to the faun in 1903 (with a boodle). In 1924,
when the surviving sisters were becoming aged they appeared at
the Orpheum, Des Moines. Variety covered it as a new act; the
notice stated in part:
"Effie and Addie Cherry are the famous Cherry Sisters who
startled Broadway in the early '905. "Perfectly terrible' was never
more applicable. As tenibleness, their skit is perfection. . . . Effie
got in the spotlight recently by being defeated foi Mayor (Cedar
Rapids) . Effie sings a song, 'She Was My Sister and Oh, How I
Missed Her/ If it were not for a reputation for being a bad act
gained thirty years ago, the Cherry Sisters would not get a hearing.
Effie explains they retired from the stage before on account of the
war. The reporter took it for granted the recent affair with Germany
was referred to, but the stagehands are at odds over the question.
Some insist she meant the Civil War and others say it was the
Spanish-American."
The late Chicot writing in his Chicot's Weekly, years before he
joined Variety, and reviewing the Cherry Sisters' first showing on
Broadway, said, "The Cherry Sisters do not care to be exploited
as freaks and insist on being treated with due respect. By way of
material for press notices, they wrote E. D. Price, manager of the
Pleasure Palace, New York, whom they were soliciting for a book-
ing, that the terrible pair had been given 'four golden horseshoes'
in Chicago, and presented with a glass cane handsomely decorated
with ribbons at St. Louis." (Shades of Lou Holtz.)
"If arrangements could be made," continued the vitriolic Chicot,
"I should be glad to present them with a horseshoe attached to the
business end of an able-bodied and hard-working jackass."
You remember, Joe, what you told me about when you had your
"Memory Lane" act at the Chicago Theatre and Effie and Addie
came to see you. Two old gals with baggy skirts introduced them-
selves as the Great Cherry Sisters and said they would join your
"Memory Lane" act (which featured some real great names) if
they were billed "in lights" as the headliners of the act. I think
that you stated, "Let me think it over; I'll call you, don't you call
me!"
In 1908, when Variety panned the gals, they replied with a
steaming hot letter which Variety printed:
"In your issue of March 21, you had an article *which was one
of the most malicious, violent and untruthful writings we have
THE CHERRY SISTERS 275
ever read. The person who wrote it is not deserving the name of a
man, but is instead a contemptible cur. You said in your paper
that we advertised ourselves 'the worst show on earth/ which makes
you a liar, point blank. We have always advertised ourselves as one
of the best, and we would not be far from the truth if we said the
best. . . . Although we have the best act in vaudeville and are the
best drawing cards on the stage, we have no swelled heads, as some
others have. We have had more knocking since we went into the
theatrical business than any other act in the history of the world,
and \ve have come to no other conclusion why this is done except
that we are not of the character of these unprincipled editors and
managers who have done the knocking and slandering."
The girls lived to a ripe old age- I honestly believe that they
thought they were great! And they were great as the worst act in
vaudeville!
My old friend Bernard H. Sandier, the noted attorney, in re-
searching some law on a libel suit, came across the following
decision, which I think will give you a pretty good picture of these
gals and maybe hand you a laugh, SEZ
Yoizr pal,
LEFTY
"In Cherry v. Des Moines Leader (114 Iowa, 298, 86 N.W.,
323) an action brought by one of three public performers call-
ing themselves "Cherry Sisters" upon the following writing;
'Effie is an old jade of 50 summers, Jessie a frisky filly of 40,
and Addie, the flower of the family, a capering monstrosity of
35. Their long skinny arms, equipped with talons at the ex-
tremities, swung mechanically, and anon waved frantically at
the suffering audience. The mouths of their rancid features
opened like caverns and sounds like the wailings of damned
souls issued therefrom. They pranced around the stage with a
motion that suggested a cross between the danse du ventre and
fox-trot—strange creatures with painted faces and hideous
mien. Effie is spavined, Addie is string-halt, and Jessie, the
only one who showed her stockings, has legs with calves as
classic in their outlines as the curves of a broom handle/ The
defendant showed that he was not actuated by malice and
was merely criticizing a coarse public performance and it was
held proper to direct a verdict against the plaintiff."
Lefty's Letters
Three Meals a Day — and a Bluff
Dear Joe,
When me and Aggie read about the big shots (usually ex-
van devfllians) of pics, stage, radio, TV, night clubs, oh yeh, and
records coming to New York and stopping at the swank spots like
the Waldorf Astoria, Sheny Netherland, Plaza, Gotham, Astor,
etc., with a suite of rooms and plenty of service, it kinda brings
back memories of the old vaude days when the actors weren't so
particular where they "pecked and padded/' The only worry was
the price, and the price in the old boardinghouses was a buck a
day for the use of a near-Ostermoor, three meals, and in some
places even a "bluff/' which meant a sandwich and a bottle of beer
after the show at night.
Nearly everybody on the bills stopped at the boardinghouses,
except maybe some legit headliner who felt his position demanded
his stopping at the "big" hotel (maybe for two bucks a day) where
he wasn't wanted and was damn lonesome (unless he could read) .
The regular acts (even those making good dough) would stop with
the gang for three reasons: one, so their fellow actors wouldn't
think they were getting "high hat"; two, because they wanted to
be with the gang after the show for laughs; and three, the most
important, it was cheaper! They would always kick and complain
and make excuses why they weren't stopping at the hotel. Many
carried a dog, and used it for an excuse: "They wouldn't let us in
with Trixie, so we came here. If they don't want Trixie, they can't
have us." Others would say that they stopped at the hotel the last
time and "the service was lousy," or "They don't let you have
company in the room after the show," or "There's a lot of old
fogies there; if you flush the toilet after 10 P.M. some guy com-
plains you're making noise," or "When me and the wife walk
through the lobby, you can hear 'em all whispering to each other,
'I wonder if them actor folks are really married?' " And of course
the "loyal" guy's excuse, "I stopped with Mom Smith when I first
started and I wouldn't hurt her feelings stopping at the hotel now
that I'm a somebody!"
THREE MEALS A DAY AND A BLUFF 277
Out West when playing the Orpheum, Sullivan & Consldine, or
Pantages Circuits, the boardinghouses and theatrical hotels would
send out "runners" a week or two ahead to book up the people
from the show for their rooms. They'd make all kinds of special
offers (the competition was big). They would first try to get the
headliner by giving him or her a special rate and the best room in
the house. This was done because the rest of the bill would usually
follow the headlinei; it would make them feel they were living as
good as he was. The boardinghouse keepers would go to any lengths
to get the troupe. They bribed stagehands, doormen, and managers
to boost their place to the actors. They even furnished cabs to
bring them from the depot to their doors before some of the
opposition could make them change their minds. They had ads
in the trade papers reading, "Home cooking, good beds, lunch after
the show, home atmosphere/' and then there would follow a long
list of well-known performers who had stopped there, all this signed
by "Mom" Something-or-other. All boardinghouses were run by
uMoms" or "Mothers/' After living in many of their homes, me
and Aggie figured most of 'em were stepmothers!
All the theater dressing-room walls had stickers advertising board-
ing houses, hotels, and restaurants all over the country. The actors
would write their personal opinions about the places all around the
stickers. Here are some of the remarks we saw written on dressing-
room walls: "Lousy." "Terrible, flies get in the soup." "Do not stop
here unless you have your mother-in-law with you." "You get pork
Monday and every day thereafter until Friday, then you get fish and
soup, and pork goes on the bill again Saturday!" "Stop here, she
is the manager's aunt, if you don't he'll send in a bad report on
your act." "This place gives you all the eggs you want but you don't
want more than one.77 "Stop here because the stage manager gets a
rake-off; if you don't your drops won't be hung right."
These notes acted as a sort of "underground" information bureau
for actors. They wrote about laundries, managers, actors who stole
material, stagehands, musicians, agents, and hookers. Some were
in poetry, some in fine prose, but most of 'em were to the pointl
If anybody had copied all the "wall tips" he would have had the
makings of a "Vaudeville Confidential!" It wasn't all panning.
Some kindly souls would write, "This is a good place to eat/' and
sign their names. Somebody would write under this, "Since when
does so-and-so know good food?" and sign his name, to which some
Lefty's Letters 278
actor would add, uHe may not know good food, but he knows good
material; lie stole a dozen of my best gags/' and the topper would
be, "You never had a dozen good gags!'7
A gimmick used by most of the boardinghouses was to serve the
troupe a fine chicken or turkey' dinner on arrival and a fine dinner
on the last day. In between the food was awful, but Mom figured
the first dinner kept *em from checking out and the last dinner
made 'em forget all about the bad "in-be tweenies/' Many of the
boardinghouses served real good meals. You wouldn't think that it
would pay Mom to give you food and room for a dollar a day, but
many retired with a mattress full of dough and a big collection of
pictures autographed, "To our pa!7 Mom Smith, better than home/'
And maybe to many It was!
The boardinghouses, theatrical hotels, and rooming houses were
as well known to actors as the swanky hotels were to people who
could afford them. Of course in the heyday of vaude, when people
were making dough, they swamped the finest hotels, and the finest
hotels began catering to them, some even giving a special rate to
the profession, because they found it was a good advertisement for
the place to house celebrities. But I am talking about the pioneer
"tents" nearly all of us lived in before the golden pay-offl
I'll fust try to tell you about the more famous ones. They were
really fabulous joints! There were Tobin's Flats and Cook's Place
on East Fourteenth Street, that served continuous breakfasts from
7 A.M to i P.M., single meals, 25 cents, $5.50 to $6.50 a week.
(Jolson lived there.) Frank Cook also owned a place on West
Thirty-ninth Street. Phoebe Cramer bought him out later. They
mostly catered to foreign acrobats, and you hear the shouts of
"Allez oop" all through the day. Mountford's was also a great spot
for acrobats and dog acts. Mrs. Martin's, on West Forty-fourth
Street, was a nice place. The Edmund's Flats on Eighth Avenue
between Forty-seventh and Forty-eighth streets on the east
side of the avenue were furnished apartments, where a lot of mar-
ried folks and troupes lived; they did their own cooking and many
a small three-room apartment held five or six people. If they were
acrobats, they'd sleep three-high! It was O.K. unless the under-
stander took in boarders. If you had no place to sleep, or needed a
bite or even a nip, you were sure to find it there among the show
folk.
Mrs. Silvers had a nice rooming house on West Forty-eighth
THREE MEALS A BAY AND A BLUFF 279
Street next door to the fireliouse. Some of the actors living there
tried to make a deal with the firemen not to answer an alarm until
noon! The old Palace Hotel on West Forty-fifth Street was where
Willard Mack & Mar j one Raxnbeau lived long before they became
stars; William Anthony McGuire and his lovely wife Lulu also
lived there long before he wrote Kid Boots and many more hits.
One of the greatest of the real theatrical hotels was the Somerset
on West Forty-seventh Street next door to the Palace stage door.
Joe Frieberg was the manager. He was maitre d'hotel at the Astor
for sixteen years before he leased the Somerset for $125,000 and
made a profit of over a quarter of a. million in six months. He
catered to every whim of the actors for many years until the whims
ran into piles of I.O.U.S and he had to give up the hotel, but he
left with great memories. He claimed the laughs and enjoyment he
got all those years were worth more than all the I.O.U.s! He was a
real great guy who would go for "sad routines" when he knew they
were phony. It was at the Somerset that Meyer and Ella Gerson
had a restaurant where they took care of many a broken-down actor
with a stomach to match. They first started on Broadway with a
tiny cigar store on Forty-seventh Street and Broadway (right under-
neath the big Pepsi-Cola sign), then opened Mother Gerson's
Fudge Shop, which was known from coast to coast by everyone in
show biz, then the restaurant at the Somerset. It was the clearing-
house for vaudeville gossip. All the big and small-time bookers
would lunch there7 and naturally the actors would "stroll in" to be
seen, and many a time got a date because of it. "Basil" and Ella
Gerson and Mother Bartholdi were the tops!
The Bartholdi Inn, on Forty-fifth Street and Broadway, was the
greatest of all theatrical hotels in America! Mother Theresa Bar-
tholdi started with two upper floors of 1546 Broadway in 1899.
After five years she took over the corner of Forty-fifth Street and
Broadway and the two adjoining buildings. In 1906 two more
houses were added on Forty-fifth Street, and the Inn had no
rooms. She never had more than a ninety-day option on her lease.
It was all half-soled and heeled — and you had to know your way
to find your room. Rooms were rented by the week, not by the day,
and had no transients. Madame Bartholdi acted as banker and
advisor, advanced fares and money to actors, let them run up bills
into the thousands, and told me she never lost a penny! In 1916
the Palmer Estate (who owned the buildings), instead of raising
Lefty's LcifjTS 2M
her r:ant as landlords all over the country were doing, reduced her
rent, Tlicre were many little fires in the place, "because there was
careless cooking in the rooms, and the throwing of cigarette butts
out of windows; they set Variety's awning (it was on the first floor)
on fire so many times that an extinguisher was kept handy at Sirne's
desk, at all times. The Inn had a real bohemian atmosphere; the
tables had lighted candles and beer was seived in small glass
pitchers.
The greats of all branches of show biz stopped there when they
weren't even near great. Some of the alumni were Pearl White,
Mack Sennett, Harry Kelly, Charlie Chaplin, D. W. Griffith, Eva
Tanguay, Nat Wills,' Dorothy Dalton, Tad, Harry Hershfield, Tom
McNamana, Laurie & Bronson, Polly Moran, and so many many
more, Polly (Pickens), Madame Bartholdi's daughter, helped her
mother manage the place and also helped King Baggott and Dell
Henderson start the Screen Club, which used rooms at the Inn for
headquarters. Gena CochI was active manager from 1917 to 1920,
when they had to move to make room for Loew's State Theatre.
There never were as many laughs on the stage of Loew's State as
there were in the Bartholdi Inn!
Polly took over the Princeton Hotel, which at one time was a
swanky gambling and fancy house. She made it into a great spot
that aimost had the atmosphere of the Bartholdi. There were a lot
of hilarious evenings at the Princeton that will long be remem-
bered. Mother Bartholdi left over a million in cash and real estate
when she died. Her husband Louis was a sculptor. She had two
daughters, Edith and Polly. The old man got married again, which
led to a fight for the estate in 1923.
There were so many great places where show folks lived. The
Cadillac (Forty-third Street and Broadway) was first called the
Barnett House (where Eugene O'Neill was born), then Wallaces,
and in 1915 became the Cadillac. It was taken over by the Claridge
Hotel (which opened as Rector's). There were the Remington,
the Hermitage, and the St, James. The St. Kilda was owned by
Pauline Cook (an ex-sharpshooting act) and Jennie Jacobs (one of
the few great lady vaude agents). Mrs. Ehric's place, where the
Three Keatons made their headquarters, the Hildona Apartments,
Astor Court, Yandis Court (which Lou Holtz owned long enough
to make $100,000 profit), Irvington Hall, Henri Court, the Bertha,
THREE MEALS A DAY A KD A BLUFF 281
the Adelaide, and the Duplex were all furnished apartments cater-
ing only to the theatrical profession.
Philadelphia had some swell hotels, boardinghouses, and room-
ing houses. Mike Tuller'sy where the Four Cohans and many of
the better acts and burly people lived, charged just a few dollars
more a week, but set the finest table in the country. There were
also Mother O'Brien's, Flossie La Van's, Cavanaugh's, the Hurley
House, Irving House, Zeiss's, St. Cloud, Cook's, and Green's.
Mother Green was an old circus gal and when the store shows
were in Philly the freaks would all come to Green's to eat. It wasn't
very appetizing to have a fat woman on one side of you, a bearded
lady on the other, and a giant in front of you, but it was damn in-
teresting. Mother Green would never turn them down. She said,
"They are my old friends, and somebody 7s got to feed them." There
were also the Sylvania, the Vendig, and of course Dad's, where
everybody would meet on Friday nights after the show in the
*Teanut Room," where they'd drink beer and eat peanuts; the floor
wras knee high in peanut shells. The show folks would entertain
themselves. I've seen Jack Banymore get up and read the Ten Com-
mandments from the Bible and have that audience spellbound, and
when he finished he'd say, "Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you I
stole this Bible from the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel!" Dad Frazer's
was a great spot!
Chicago had its great spots, too. The old Revere House, which
burned down, the Saratoga, the Grant (run by Leonard Hicks),
the City Hall Square, and of course the Sherman, with the Byfields
as hosts, and the Bismarck and Congress hotels, which always
catered to the profession.
Baltimore had Keman's, which was owned and run by the owner
of the Maryland Theatre, Fred Shanberger. The two most popular
boardinghouses in the country were in Baltimore, Sparrows and
Mother Howard's. The latter was the originator of "three meals a
day and a bluff," and if you happened to live there during the
racing season, she would throw in a tip on a "hot horse." A great
gal.
There were Reilly's in Newark, Smith's in Portland, Oregon, in
Cleveland the Winston, Olmstead, and the Hollenden. In Wash-
ington, D.C., there were Mother Schroder7s (next to the Casino
Theatre) and Gus Bucholtz's Occidental, where there was many a
great poker game in that front suite facing Pennsylvania Avenue.
Icftfs Letters 282
TTie Coast had many furnished apartments priced very reason-
ablv with much better furniture and accommodations than the
ones back East. We usually played Frisco, Los Angeles, and Oak-
land for a two-week run, so It woold pay the act to get a furnished
apartment and get some home cooking for a change,
But the majority of the actors would go to the Continental
Hotels in Frisco and Los Angeles, owned by two of the craziest
guys in the business. They advertised, "We get the stars on the
way up and on the way down again/7 They signed everything,
"Stanley & Fumess, 5050." They would take turns In managing
each hotel six months a year. They would turn away commercial
trade and transients; many a salesman would have loved to live
there because of all the fun and laughs. It wasn't run like a hotel,
but like a "fun-house." It was no surprise to have a juggler wait on
yon (paying off his tab) and maybe juggle a few plates before he
served yon. Somebody was always playing a joke on some one, and
Aloysius Shanley was the Instigator of most of them,
Al Jolson used to stop there when he first played on the S. & C.
Circuit. Then when he came there for the first time as a star,
Shanley organized a band to meet him at the station and they
paraded up Market Street with Jolson leading the parade, and Al
made them stop outside the St. Francis, where he went in to
register (it was his gag on Shanley), but came out again and
marched to the Continental, ordered a half a dozen rooms, where
he held court In the evenings and then went to sleep at the
St. Francis. Many acts did that when playing Frisco and L.A. In
loyalty to those grand guys. They worked up to a chain of seven
hotels, but when the crash came they lost 'em all except the York-
shire, In L.A. (but it never had the atmosphere of the Conti-
nentals). They were together for over thirty years and then for
business reasons had to split. It was a great loss for show folks.
Yes, there were boardinghouses and theatrical hotels everyplace
vaudeville was and vaudeville was everyplace. After the show the
troupers would gather and play cards, drink a little beer, lie a little
about how good they were doing, exchange theatrical gossip, and
have laughs. The rooms, food, and beds weren't much, but young,
ambitious people don't need much, and the laughs paid off for all
the shortcomings. Remember, it was only a buck a day for room,
three meals, and a bluff— and laughs!
The theatrical hotels were much different than the boarding-
THREE MEALS A DAY AND A BLUFF 283
houses. They usually started as first-class hotels; then when the
neighborhood ran down, the hotels became a bit careless about
sendee and furnishings. They could afford to give a rate to theat-
rical people, who were pretty permanent and didn't expect first-class
service. As long as the hotel let 'em make a little coiee in the room,
gather in each other's rooms and gab until all hours in the morn-
ing, play a little cards, sing, do a little nose-painting, play a uke,
and kept the chambermaids from bothering them until late after-
noon, they would be satisfied with elevators that developed paraly-
sis between floors, bellhops who got fresh, and clerks who kept
asking for room rent. The managers of these hotels understood
actors and many times entered into the spirit of their fun. Many
of them would keep the hotel exclusive for the profession, barring
"towners" and "salesmen." The clerks, bellhops, chambermaids,
and porters all knew and spoke show biz, and many of them helped
many an act with money when some of the "guests" were going
over the rough spots.
There were a few different type theatrical hotels, like those that
really let themselves run down and naturally charged cheaper rates
and got many acts whose bankrolls wouldn't allow them to live at
the better places. The Saratoga in Chicago was that kind of a spot.
You could buy anything— a double routine, parody, tip on a horse,,
hot jewelry or even some "nose candy" right in the lobby. The only
rule strictly enforced in this type hotel (known to the profession
as "buckets of blood'') was "No smoking of opium in the ele-
vators!"
The Rexford in Boston was New England's answer to the Sara-
toga. The Rexford was a massive building in the heart of Boston's
tenderloin. They had bars on the windows, like in a jail, which
saved many a guy and gal from falling or being thrown out. The
sheets and pillowcases and even the blankets were stenciled with
large black letters, "Property of the Rexford/7 At 3 A.M. a big bell
would ring, which meant it was time for everybody to go to his
own room. The fun was over. Or was it? On hot summer nights
some of the actors would sit on the roof and rush the can. They'd
chip in a dime, put it in the can, which they would lower to the
street with a long piece of string. There a stooge would take it and
have it filled with beer, take a good drink (which was his commis-
sion), and the boys would heist it back to the roof. It was all so
homey and nice, but kinda rough! They catered to more burly
Lefty's Letters 284
people than vaude, but it was very handy for the vaude acts that
played In the olio at the Old Howard, Waldron's Casino, the
Scollay Square, etc. It was sold during the war to the Salvation
Arm\C who used it for soldiers and sailors. It was opened with
prayer as the Arcadia.
The Alamac in St. Louis was on a par with the Rexford. They
too catered mostly to burlesque people, and later became the hang-
out for bootleggers and gangsters. They never bothered the actors
and the actors wouldn't bother them, except maybe for a few
bottles.
New York had many theatrical hotels. The Knickerbocker on
Forty-second Street and Broadway was where Caruso and many big
stars' lived. It was turned into an office building which didn't allow
any theatrical tenants! The Metropole on Forty-third Street and
Broadway, wirere Rosenthal the gambler was shot, started as Joe
Adams7 Hotel, a great hangout for vaude and burly people. Later
it became the Comedy Club and now is RosofFs, a very fine hotel
and restaurant. The old Continental on Broadway and Forty-first
Street was the place the circus and outdoor-racket boys stopped.
There were few good boardinghouses down South. Mother
Pettit's, in Richmond, Virginia, was about the best. Actors would
usually stop at rooming houses and eat out at the "greasy spoons/'
In the early days the food was terrible in the South; the big hotels
were too expensive, and besides, they didn't care for the theatrical
trade. The saying among actors was, "Just saving enough dough
to have an operation on my stomach when I get back North." But
now the South boasts of some of the finest restaurants in the
country.
Living was a problem for acts playing the smaller towns. Every
town in those days had a Mansion House, American Hotel, or
Commercial House; a Eureka Restaurant, Modern Lunch, or
Wagon Lunch, and a Reliable Laundry. The theaters were usually
named Globe, Palace, Keystone, Gem, Hippodrome, World in
Motion, and, of course, the "Opry" House!
At the old hotels in the small towns you came in and were
greeted by a pimply-faced clerk with as much hospitality in his
voice as a bulldog that got its tail stepped on. He'd swing the big
register around to you (all registers were on swivels), take a pen
out of a glass of buckshot, dip it in the large inkwell, and hand it
to you. While you wrote in your best Spencerian, the pen would
THREE MEALS A PAY AND A BLUFF
285
catch on the cheap paper and throw a blot on "and wife" of the
guy who registered ahead of you. You'd always put "New York"
and "theater" after your name. The clerk would read It and give
you a nod of nonrecognition, turn his back to look at the rack for
five minutes (nearly all the rooms were empty, but he did this to
look important ), then tell you he was sorry he couldn't give you a
better room because they were all filled (and charge you more than
anyone else was paying). He'd bang on a big bell on the desk to
call the bellboy, and while waiting for the boy to wake up? you'd
take a toothpick out of the glassful on the counter and start pick-
ing your teeth to kinda act nonchalant. The boy, an old man of
sixty, would finally show up, take your bags and get you in an
elevator that would whiz you up at about half a mile an hour. He'd
show you into a break-a-way room with a five-watt light (that's
why most actors carried their own light bulbs) . He would of course
ask you how the show was, and be disappointed when you didn't
ask him to sit down and tell him jokes.
At night after the show you'd sit around the lobby with a couple
of salesmen (they always seemed to come in pairs), and maybe
they'd tell you some jokes they just heard at Hammerstein's before
they left New York. (The next night you'd try them in your act
and find that an act the week ahead of you had already used
them.) You'd sit around with the salesmen, listening to them lie
about the big sales they'd made, while you countered with how big
your act went in New York. You'd flirt with the chambermaid so
you could get extra towels, and flirt with the waitress to get extra
portions. The night clerk would listen in to your phone conversa-
tions (listening to the chorus girls was how he became adult).
After a few of these "mortuaries" you'd even hanker for one of
those "bucket of blood" hotels. At least there you would know
that the country was still alivel
The Hotel As tor on Times Square, although not strictly a theat-
rical hotel, has always catered to the tops in show biz. Will Rogers
never stopped anyplace else when in New York, and Jimmy
Durante gets his same suite year after year whenever he hits town.
The Hunting Room at the Astor, when show biz was in full blast,
had the greatest managers and actors dining there, and when the
picture biz was in its infancy, all the future tycoons wrote figures
on the tablecloths running into millions. Weber & Fields, the
Shuberts, Charles Dillingham, Ziegfeld, Cohen & Harris, Bill
Lefty's Letters 28S
Brady. Marcus Loew, Adolph Zukor, William Fox, Jesse Lasky,
Sam 'Goldwyn, and Sime Sllvernian would lunch there daily. The
Algonquin has always been a hotel for stage folks, artists, and
literary greats, and ft still carries on the tradition of the late
Frank Case.
Boston had its Adams House, Richwood, Healey's, William Tell
House, Mother Thomas's, Avery, Totiraine, Hollis Chambers, and
Jacob Worth's— and not forgetting Pie Alley Strip, where you
bought tickets to get coffee for two cents and pie for three cents;
coffee and beans were eleven cents!
The actor's living and eating habits have come a long way since
the days of Mother Howard's. They now live in plush hotels with
clean rooms, excellent service, fine food— but no laughsl SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
Yon Say That!
Dear Joe,
It was around 1927 that the boys and gals and execs of vaudeville
forgot the rule that Tony Pastor and B. F. Keith laid down, "Keep
it clean"! They began sneaking gags into their acts that were blue
even in the old honky-tonk days! It was one of the poisons that
helped kill vaudeville!
It all started slowly (like a cancer). The heads of vaude were
more worried about the stock-market quotations than what was
going on on their stages (which made it possible for them to
dabble with the market in the first place). One act would get a
yok with an off-color gag or a blue piece of business (usually a
headliner first) , so another act would sneak one in. Managers would
let the headliners get by with it, but cut it on the smaller acts.
Actors, when asked to cut a blue gag, would give the manager
an argument, "Why, I used that gag at the Palace," or "on the
YOU MUSTN'T SAY THAT! 2S7
Orpheura Time." The manager by then was just a messenger boy
and didn't feel that he had the authority to make the acts cut it
out; the act was getting ten times his salary and so he was im-
pressed—and let the gag get by.
It was when the managers all over the circuits received letters
from their patrons complaining that vaude was no longer a "family
amusement77 that the trade papers, especially Variety, wrote edi-
torials about it and demanded that the managers and circuits start
censoring their shows. It was only then that the heads of the
circuits finally issued orders to cut all blue material and for each
manager to send in a copy of the gags he cut. These reports in turn
were sent to all the managers with names of the acts and instruc-
tions to cut the gags listed, and to cancel the act if it insisted on
using them. That looked like they meant business and would surely
cure the eviL
But the "cancer" was all set to eat vaude away. The actors would
leave out the gags mentioned on the "cut sheet" and replace them
with worse ones. (You see, the acts were getting yoks and couldn't
get used to the "nice laughs" they got with clever and clean
material.) Some of the acts would use stuff on the opening show
that would have been cut in the worst burly show. But they didn't
care, they got laughs (and the people that laughed loudest were
the first to complain to the manager), and the newspapermen were
in for the first show and saw them a hit! So when the local manager
cut the stuff they used at the opening show, they would stick other
gags in just as blue, and all week it was a contest between the
manager and the act. They couldn't have done this if the circuit
heads had really cared, because you can cure any actor by taking
his route away. But at that time the Big Brass of vaude had their
minds on stocks and golf, and as long as they heard the clink of
gold at the box office they didn't care. A new low was reached
when a gal was "goosed" at the Palace, the cathedral of vaude-
ville. B. F. Keith must have turned in his grave in blue-earthed
New England!
Through the many manager friends me and Aggie had, we col-
lected those "cut sheets" that were sent out. The acts that used the
gags will recognize the sword that cut off their income, and a lot
of new comedians will be interested in the cut; they may have for-
gotten the gags and pieces of business and will now put them in
on radio and TV— which may bring vaudeville back!
Lefty's Letters 288
Here they are, Joe. (Maybe a lot of laymen won't understand
many of them, but I am sure they'll get the idea. Most of them
are very uxisubtle!) We don't give the names of the acts that used
them— we are sure they will recognize them.
CUT:
Business of girl raising skirt, saying, "I'm a show girl/'
"The act* s all shot to helll"
(After showing leg almost up to thigh) "I'm not going to show you
everything at these prices!"
Hitting girl in rear with book, girl reaching back, saying, "Oh, my
nerves!"
(Time of Arab-Hebrew trouble) All references to Arabs.
Looking skyward and then brushing top of hat.
References to Polacks and Guineas.
"This dog does tricks all over the place/'
Orders in restaurant, "I want steak." Waiter yells, "Steak me."
"I want a glass of milk." "Milk me," sez waiter.
Story of girl in picture show with man. Girl saying, "Someone is
fooling with my knee." Man says, "It's me, and I'm not fooling!"
"About a girl taking a tramp through the woods."
"Close those double-breasted lips!"
All references to Mayor Walker and LaGuardia, although used
innocently enough. Unfavorable comments have been received
by our patrons.
Remarks about Daddy Browning and Peaches.
Words, "Cockeye," "Dirty," "Wop." [Keith cut out "cockeye" in
1895.]
Business of tearing off woman's trunks.
'What's your name?" "Murphy, and don't let the nose fool you!"
"Mother and father are fighting." "Who is your father?" "That's
what they're fighting about."
Two nance bits: Man kissing woman, other man sez, "What about
me, don't I appeal to you?" And, after man does nance walk,
"Why, a businessman don't walk that way!" "You don't know
my business!"
"Lord Epsom, Secretary of the Interior."
YOU MUSTN'T SAY THAT! 289
'"Kindly see that the girls' navels are covered."
fctThere are no flies on me." "Noy but there are spots where flies
have been."
"She had two children by her first husband, two by her second
husband, two by her third, besides two of her own."
Girl claims she hurt forehead, man kisses it. Then she claims she
hurt her finger, which he also kisses, etc. Finally she takes a prat
fall and says she hurt herself again!
Girl whispers in mother's ear and moves around the stage, crossing
her legs, etc. Finally Mother says, "Go and tell your father/'
"You leave a book around the house and some animal punctuates
it!"
"I took a girl to see 'Ladies of the Evening/ so now I can speak
freely."
All Kip Rhinelander gags. (He married a Negro.)
Story about man looking through transom at woman in the bath-
tub.
All gags about Peaches Browning and Earl Carroll.
[okes about De Russey's lane (Hall-Mills murder) and the pig
woman.
Gag about auto troubles, saying, "It was sunk-in-the ditch/' mak-
ing it sound like "sonofabitch."
Lady headliner does gag about Spanish fly. Tells about going to
make a new picture called "My Wedding Night" with sound
effects!
Three big comics doing nance bit at the Palace, with one at finish
saying, "It must be the tomboy in me,"
Cut all pansy stuff and giving of the raspberry.
Big comic in Boston censored, refused to cut, and was called on the
carpet. (He cut.)
Test tube scene (can't cut because whole act depends on finish).
Hitler gags where he appears as a nance.
Wiping perspiration from under arms, legs, etc., and all maneuver-
ings of lady's skirt.
"I thought I picked a skirt, but I picked a bloomer!"
"I believe in companionate marriage; that means 'open shop/ "
Lefty's Letters 29°
"Are TOE looking at my knee?" "No, Fm way above that."
Word "rabies" in the line "dog had rabies."
Reference to the little cottage behind the big one.
"I like to take experienced girls home." "Fm not experienced/"
"You're not home yet!"
Picking John Gilbert's nose.
Speaking about a girl as a "broad,"
"Children look more like their fathers since we have Frigidaires."
"One flight op and turn to your right, madame" (after she whispers
in his ear) .
"Panama Panties completely cover the Canal Zone."
"Cow drinks water and gives milk— baby drinks milk and gives — "
"That was when Fanny was still a girl's name."
"I said good-by to the train and jumped on my girl."
'Walking sticks were invented when Eve presented Adam with
a Cain." "I didn't think you were Abel."
"She thinks lettuce7 is a proposition."
"Statue of Liberty is surrounded by water because she raised her
hand and teacher didn't see her."
Feenamint gags-
"I slept with the twins during the rain storm, but I might as well
have gone home."
Cut names of Pantages and Aimee Sernple McPherson.
"Fm going to the livery stable for doughnuts."
"Little Willie Green from Boston, Mass., waded into the water
up to his— knees!"
After girl rubs man's chest, he says, "Now let me do that to you."
Boy asks girl's father for permission to marry his daughter. "Fm
making $65 a week and that's enough for two to live on." "Sup-
posing you have children?" (Boy knocks on wood.) "We've
been lucky so far."
"Didn't I meet you under the bed at the Astor Hotel?"
"I knew you when you didn't have a pot to— cook in!'
"He's the father of a baby boy, but his wife doesn't know it yet."
"I'll never marry a girl who snores," "You're going to have a swell
time finding out!"
Men grabbing partner by seat of trousers, latter crying, "What
encouragement did I give you?"
Holding partner's nose, then wiping hand on shirt, saying, "You
have a cold."
(To flute player) "Hey, that thing is sticking out again."
"Boy is so small because his father was a Scotchman."
(Man to girl) "Are you married?" "No." "Any children?" "I told
you I'm not married." "Answer my question!1
"Hurry, you're a little behind, Fanny!"
(To groom) "How do you like married life?" "I'D tell you better
in the morning."
"I said, 'Relax/ not ^Ex-lax!7 "
Rhyme about girl's haircut, inferring it looks like a man's behind.
Girl walking on stage with a pair of oars, saying, "I just made
the crew."
Business of partner trickling sprinkling can on man's leg; he then
kicks dog.
Dog appears to be whispering to man. "Sure, it's at the end of
the hall."
"He buried his head in my shoulder then plowed his way through.79
"I get a thrill when I look up at her balcony."
"If you don't get married, your children will hate you when they
grow up."
"Out of 50,000 people, the pigeon had to pick me out."
"Your father is in Kansas City." "He isn't. He is dead." "Your
mother's husband is dead, but your father lives in Kansas City."
"He's in the automobile business. He gave me an automobile last
night, and tonight he's gonna give rne the business."
"Did you pay a green fee?" "No, we were in the rough all day/'
"He uses sign language. He expresses his feelings with his hands/'
"I have fourteen children and I'm afraid my husband doesn't love
me/' "Hell, think of what might have happened if he loved you."
"Magician had me in the hallway, the hand is quicker than the
eye-"
Gag about woman barber nursing baby and saying, "You're next/"
Business of apparently spitting in each other's faces.
Lefty's Letters 232
Vulgar suggestions while dancing with girl (looking down her
breast).
"If Nature won't, Pluto will."
Squirting Flit under the arms.
4*Ont West where men are men and women are double-breasted/7
"The next movement is from Epsom."
Business of touching man and saying, "Are yon nervous?" (touch-
ing rear) "Only around the second chucker."
Xame of President Hoover or any state, city, or national official.
Reference to Protestants.
"Old woman who lived in a shoe had so many children she didn't
know what to do/' "Why did she have so many children?"
"Because she didn't know what to do."
Gag with girl from the audience. "Anything else you'd like?"
"Nothing you can throw from the audience.7'
I'll bet you don't believe that all this was pulled on the Big
Time, but it was. It only goes to show you how low vaude got
toward the finish. It was like an old guy slapping a young gal on
the fanny! The brooms, soap and water, and mops used by Tony
Pastor and B. F. Keith were all worn out.
These were the things they were told they must not say, but
they did, until there were no more vaude theaters they could say
them in. SEZ
Your pdL,
LEFTY
P.S. Hey, radio and TV ... take a hint.
Dear Joe,
I wrote you about the half a dozen actors who started The Jolly
Corks, which later became the Benevolent Protective Order of
Elks. In 1898, at Seattle, Washington, a few more showmen started
THEATRICAL CLUBS 293
a social club for themselves and called it the "Order of Good
Things/' The showmen were John Corf, John Considine, Harry
Leavitt, Mose Goldsmith, and Arthur Williams. After a few weeks
this little club's name was changed and soon became the big
fraternal order called the "Eagles." So you see show folks are
responsible for two of the biggest benevolent organizations in
America!
There was a saying in show biz that whenever three actors got
together, they'd start a club. They were always seeking sociability,
to swap stories, have laughs, and make touches. But they insisted on
being with other actors who understood their language.
The oldest theatrical club in America, up to 1944, when it dis-
banded, was the Actors' Order of Friendship, which was organ-
ized in 1849. ft was strictly an actor's club. The mother lodge was
in Philadelphia, and New York had Edwin Forrest Lodge No. 2,
which was organized in 1907, with a clubhouse at 139 West Forty-
seventh Street. Later they joined with the Green Room Club, and
when it broke upr the eleven surviving members of the Actors'
Order of Friendship sold the clubhouse building, receiving about
$2,000 apiece, and disbanded.
The Green Room Club was organized in 1902 and it was then
called the Theatrical Business Club. James O'Neill was the first
prompter (president) . From 1902 to 1904 they met in a house on
West Forty-seventh Street, where the Palace now stands. They
then joined the Actors' Order of Friendship, whose members didn't
have to pay dues, because they gave the Green Roomers the use
of their clubhouse. In 1923, when the AXXO.F. leased their house
(later selling it), under the guidance of S. Jay Kaufman the Green
Roomers took a ninety-nine-year lease on a beautiful building at
19 West Forty-eighth Street. They were doing very well when finan-
cial trouble developed after one of the officers helped himself to a
big chunk of the till. Also in 191 1 they had had some internal trouble
and seventy-five of the insurgents had joined the Friars without
having to pay an initiation fee. But for a long time the Green
Roomers really had a swell club with a fine membership. They
gave Revels at the clubhouse and also for the general public. S. Jay
Kaufman as president worked very hard to help the younger actor.
He started a dormitory where the young actors could sleep for very
little money. Some of our present-day stars were "boarders" in the
dormitory when things weren't breaking so well for them. It was
Lefty's Letters 294
a small but very warm club, and It was a shame that it never was
reorganized
The second oldest theatrical club is the Players, which was organ-
ized in Xew York in 1889 and took up quarters on Gramercy Park
at the home of the immortal Edwin Booth, who endowed the
building to them. His bedroom still remains as it was. The roster
of the Players contains mostly legit actors, but nearly all well-
known legits played vaude at some time or other in their careers.
There are also many fine artists and writers among the member-
ship. A very distinguished theatrical club is the Players!
The Erst real social club made up of vaudevillians only was the
Vaudeville Comedy Club. The idea originated with Louis Simon
(remember him in a comedy sketch, "The New Coachman"?) and
a few others, while gabbing in the offices of Meyers & Keller, the
agents. The first meeting was held at the Empire Hotel in 1906-
Frank Byron ("The Dude Detective") gave $10 for expenses.
Carl ton Macy (Lydell & Macy), suggested the name, Comedy
Club? but when they found there already was a club by that name,
they changed it to the Vaudeville Comedy Club. Will Cressy,
fCressy & Dayne) was made president. The idea was to have the
club for comedy acts only. James J. Morton ('The Boy Comic")
was the secretary, and it was through his hard work that the club
really got over. It started out as a club for laughs, but they also
worked for better conditions backstage and started a protective
material department. In 1907 they moved to 147 West Forty-fifth
Street (next door to the Lyceum Theatre) and in 1909 they moved
to 224 West Forty-sixth Street. It was here the famous Clown
Nights started, with Big Jim Morton as M.CX Jim did such a good
job that he later became the first professional M.C. in America.
The club did a lot of good work. It supported Percy Williams
in his fight against E. F. Albee, and when Albee saw that Williams,
with Comedy Club support, would control practically all the
comedy and next-to-closing acts, he made peace with Williams, who
later sold his circuit to Albee for about seven million bucks. The
club stuck to Williams so there would be some opposition in
vaude- The start of the downfall of the Comedy Club was when
they began to take in managers, agents, and lay people, and soon,
through inner dissension among "cliques/' they were on the verge
of bankruptcy.
At this time Gene Hughes (not yet an agent) was the club's
THEATRICAL CLUBS 295
president, and he called a special meeting to announce the bad
news. During Gene's speech there was a hush all over the room
and the members were feeling very bad about the turn of events.
At this point Ham* B. Watson (Bickle, Watson & Wrothe),
wearing a checkered suit, gray derby, spats, and carrying a cane,
entered. Johnny Stanley fa great ad-libber) looked up, saw Wat-
son, and yelled, "Go back. You're not on for an hour yet!" Every-
body got to laughing and Gene Hughes couldn't get them back
to order. So what happened? Yep, we went bankrupt! The club was
reorganized and started again at the Metropole Hotel, on West
Forty-third Street (where Rosenthal was shot), and again the club
broke up. Some of the members tried to revive it as the festers,
with Frank Conroy (Conroy & LeMaire) as president. Al Jolson,
J. J. Morton, Harry Fox, Irving Berlin, and Bernard Granville were
a few of the revivers, but it just didn't revive. We then had a floor
next to the Palace and for awhile it looked as if it would go, but
it didn't, and so the Vaudeville Comedy Club and the Jesters
closed their doors after about eight years of a lot of laughs. There'll
never be another club like it!
In 1906 circuses had a couple of social clubs. The Robinson
Show called their club the Elephants, while the Barnum & Bailey
show called theirs the Tigers.
In the fall of 1904 an organization called the Press Agents'
Association was formed to stop the free-pass frauds. Nearly every-
body in and out of show biz was working some gimmick to get a
free pass. The first meeting was held at Brown's Chop House, in
response to a call by Charles Emerson Cook (then a press agent
for Belasco). Channing Pollock was first president, John W. Rum-
sey, treasurer, and John S. Flaherty (manager and P.A. of the
Majestic Theatre) was secretary. A blacklist of phonies was made
up and the practice was broken — and with it the interest of the
association.
In 1906 Will Page and Joe Plunkett sent out a call and the
membership was enlarged to include press agents and actors all
over the country, and actors soon became the majority and changed
the name to the Friars (originated by Frederick F. Shrader).
Charles Emerson Cook was made Abbot (president), Frank J.
Wilstach, Dean (vice-president), John Rumsey, treasurer, and
Wells Hawks, secretary. They were the first actors' club to give
dinners to prominent people. Clyde Fitch, the famous playwright,
Lefty's Letters 2S8
was the first honored guest at the Beaux Arts Cafe. At the Victor
Herbert dinner, the famous Friars' song, by Cook and Herbert,
was born. These dinners had a new twist to them; instead of
eulogizing the guest of honor, they appointed an "agenf (sup-
posedly a press agent) to introduce the honored guest. He would
pan the goest instead of boosting him. (The late Ren Wolf was
the greatest.) It was a novel and welcome change from the
regular routines.
The Friars were incorporated in 1907 and held meetings at the
Hotel Hermitage. They got a house at 107 West Forty-fifth Street
in 1908. Their annual public affairs were first called Festivals,
then later Frolics. In 1916 they moved to their own large club-
house at 1 10 West Forty-eighth Street. It was called the Monastery.
George M. Cohan, then the Abbot, headed a parade to the new
clubhouse, where he opened the door and threw the key away. The
place remained open until 1933, when bankruptcy closed its doors.
They moved to new quarters atop the Hollywood Theatre, and
after a short stay again broke up and took a few rooms at the Hotel
Astor in 1936 under a reorganization. Then to the Hotel Edison
Annex, where they stayed until 1950, when they moved to their
own clubhouse at 123 West Fifth-sixth Street It is really not the
original Friars, but they still have many members of the old Friars,
and are a very important and successful actors' club (with Milton
Eerie as Abbot).
But I want to tell you about the fabulous old Friars Club on
Forty-eighth Street. It was a beautiful clubhouse. Most of the
membership were vaude actors, and everybody seemed to have
money (we often collected $1,000 for some cause or other in less
than an hour). The place was run for laughs. When the club
needed money (which was often), George M. Cohan would get
the boys together and give a Frolic, which made $50,000, theo
everybody relaxed until the finances ran down again. The things
that happened there are fantastic!
At one time there was a man who took a great interest in the
club. He had the pool tables recovered and new cues and balls
bought. He then took up the problems of the dining room and had
the menu and prices changed. (We had one of the finest dining
rooms, serving great food, which by the way, lost $50,000 a year.)
This gentleman certainly ran things for about four months. One
day he got into an argument with Charlie Pope (husband of Stella
THEATRICAL CLUBS 297
Hammerstein and a terrific character In his own right). Charlie
tamed to someone and asked who the fellow was. Nobody seemed
to know; some said he was the head of the House Committee;
others thought he was on the Board of Governors; nobody knew
for sure. Charlie investigated and found that the guy wasn't even
a memberl He had come in on a guest cardl
Another time some of us were standing outside of the club
when a van drove up and two huskies said they had come to pick
up a piano to be tuned. They went in and brought it out and a
few of the boys even helped them put it in the van. A few nights
later someone wanted to play the piano and was told that it had
been taken out to be tuned. He looked puzzled and said, "Since
when do you have to take out a piano to have it tuned?" The
piano was never returned.
You think youVe heard of funny things? How about having a
steam pipe running through the icebox for years before they found
it out? And it wasn't until we moved from the Monastery that we
found out we had had one of the first air-conditioned clubhouses, via
vents. But they were closed for the more than fifteen years we were
there and in summer we had the hottest clubhouse in New YorkI
But what a great club for laughs!
I must tell you one more story (out of fifty I know) about the
old Friars to show you the kind of crazy lovable guys we had as
members. Rube Bernstein (one of our great managers), a real
pixie, would go to any lengths for a laugh. We had a member, Bill
Wilder, that walked with a slight limp and carried a cane with a
rubber tip on the end of it. He was a daily card player, and would
hang his cane next to him on the table. One night when he was
very interested in the game, Rube took the cane, removed the
rubber tip, got a saw, and cut off about an eighth of an inch, put
the rubber tip back, and hung the cane on the table in its regular
place. He did this for two weeks, each day cutting off a tiny piece.
One day Bill came into the club leaning way over. Rube asked him,
"How you feeling?" And Bill said, "Fm getting worse and worse,
Rube. I can't walk straight anymore!" That gives you an idea of
some of the many laughs we had in those days. "Let's drink a
deep toast, to the ones we love most, a toast to all Jolly Good
Friars!" That's the finish of the Friars' song. I'll buy that—and
that goes for the new Friars!
In 1898 the Negro performers started a social club, the Greasy
Lefty's Letters 298
Front. It was run by Charlie Moore and there was a restaurant in
the basement run by Mrs. Moore. In 1908 they organized a club
called the Frogs, with the Immortal Bert Williams as president.
It lasted a long time. They also had the Clef Club, a social and
protective association for colored musicians.
In 1908 there was the Golden Gate Professional Club, which
lasted about five years in California. Mrs, Beaumont Packard was
president. There "was also the Benevolent Order of Upholders,
which didn't last at all. In 1910 the Variety Artists League started
to buck the White Rats (BO go). In 1911 Billy Gould started the
American Vaudeville Artists, which didn't last over a minute.
(That, too, tried to buck the White Rats.)
In 1913 there was one of the greatest show-folk colonies in the
country. It was at Freepoit, Long Island. Nearly every home in
the colony was built with vaudeville money. Those were the days
when vaude acts would lay off in the summer, as most of the
theaters closed because of no air conditioning. Hanging around
Ed Rice's garage, the boys would chew the fat, get a half a keg of
beer, and swap lies and laughs. The gang got so big that they
decided to build a clubhouse. They called themselves the Long
Island Good Hearted Thespians7 Society! (Anything for a laugh.)
It finally ended up as the Lights (taken from the first letter of
each word. Maybe this gave the Government the idea of all those
initial departments like NRA, NLRB, etc.). It became really one
of the great actors' clubs in America, organized and run by actors,
All the show folks would come from New York for the week end
to get laughs, seeing and listening to the greatest ad-libbing and
clowning ever heard or seen anywhere! Victor Moore was the Angel
(president) .
Every summer they would make a Cruise (like the Friars' Frolics
and Lambs' Gambols, Greenroom Revels, White Rats* Scampers,
etc.) to raise money. They built a beautiful clubhouse right on the
bay. The shows on week ends were just terrific! Henry Bergman,
Eddie Carr, Tommy Dugan, Frank Tinney, Jimmy Conlin, George
P. Murphy, and George McKay were just a few of the great enter-
tainers that ad-libbed their way to the greatest floor-show entertain-
ment you ever could see. The wives started a club of their ownr
using the rathskeller of the club, and called themselves the Pigs,
why, I will never know! But it certainly was a big success.
When things got tough, someone suggested taking in lay mem-
THEATRICAL CLUBS 299
bers. That was the beginning of the end (as In mostly all theatrical
clubs). Soon the actors couldn't even get seats In their own club;
all thej- were wanted for was to entertain the lay members and
their guests. These children of fun couldn't stand this very long.
They stopped entertaining— and soon the Lights went out! A great
loss to the fun of America.
But still the actors weren't cured of "clubitis." In 1914 Chicago
saw the organization of the Old Friends, later called the Strollers.
A swell guy by the name of Sam Mayer, who went "upstairs" In
1914, left a collection of 1,265 &2™>Qd pictures of prominent show
folks. (Some of the frames had as many as forty pictures.) Charles
E. Ellis, Robert Sherman, and F. P. Simpson were responsible for
buying this collection. Others aiding were Frank Gazzolo, Ed
Rowland, and E. E. Meredith (Variety man In Chicago at that
time). Gifts came from Amy Leslie and Mrs. Gardiner (widow of
Frank Mayo's manager). This collection, bought by Robert Gould
Shaw, finally passed to Harvard University, which furnished a
building for Its housing. Ralph Kettering, playwright and producer
and member of the Strollers, tells me that Mr. Shaw was the son
of the man who organized the first Negro regiment in the Civil
War and was the first husband of Lady Astor. This club lasted
only a short time, but they had a lot of fun while it lasted.
Many years later there was a Comedy Club in Chicago, with
clubrooms above the Chicago Lindy's (no connection with New
York's famous Lindy's). Membership was made up of show folks
and music publishers, who did a great job of keeping the laughs
going for visiting vaudevillians. In 1914 there was a club made up
of women legits called the Gamut Club. I have no idea what ever
became of it. Then there was the Lox Club, an offshoot of the
Burlesque Club (which had many vaude members).
Which brings me to one of the most unique clubs in America,
or even the world— the Burlesque Clubl It was organized when
burlesque was going real strong all over the country, and the mem-
bers bought a clubhouse at 237 West Forty-seventh Street. They
invested some of their funds in a coal mine in Pennsylvania, which
in turn was leased to a company that paid them royalties. When
burly went bad and some of the members needed money, the club
distributed $600 to each member, and as the membership grew
less and less (due to burly being banned in many places), they sold
the clubhouse (to Leone, who built an addition to his famous
Lefty's Letters m
Italian restaurant). The club then took a couple of rooms at the
Forrest Hotel, and after a few more years they didn't even need
two rooms, so just held annual meetings. Henry Kurtzman, who has
been secretary for years, has really kept the organization alive.
There are only about a dozen of us left, Bobby Clark (Clark &
McCullough) is president, and Rube Bernstein, Emmett Calla-
han, and Herman Becker are the directors of the only actors' club
that has ever paid dividends to its members!
There have been many show biz clubs in California— the Photo
Players Club in Los Angeles, the Writers' Club, the Uplifters
(which really wasn't an actors* club, but had many of them as
members), and the Bohemians. And of course the Lakeside and
Hillcrest Golf Clubs, although not organized as actors' clubs,
have a majority of their membership from the profession, Including
many of lie greats from vaude, radio, TV, stage, and pics. They
are laugh exchanges!
There is an old organization called the Theatrical Mechanics
Association, better known as the T.M.A. It was founded in Boston
by the stagehands in 1882. Many actors joined this organization
(and in later years were glad they did, because they made a good
living as stagehands). They did a lot of charitable work and had
branches all over the country.
There were many "goofy" clubs. In 1916 Felix Adler (a very
funny man, besides being an actor-writer) organized the Musties.
The meetings were held in back of a saloon on Sixth Avenue.
Those gathered would put a dollar in the kitty and the president
would appoint a committee of one to go out shopping for sand-
wiches, then another committee of two to watch him to see that
he spent the money honestly. Then another kitty would be col-
lected for the "musty ale." Little Billy, the midget, was president.
He was offered a quarter for his presidency by George M. Cohan,
but he held out for thirty-five cents, which Cohan refused to pay,
so Little Billy remained the prez. This was just a gang get-together,
made up mostly of Friars. Plenty of laughs!
In 1918 the Lookers was organized as a social club and their
first and only meeting was held at Terrace Garden. The organizers
were Jimmy Hussey and George Whiting (Whiting & Burt). The
club was disbanded because E. F. Albee thought it might become
another White Rats, and he didn't want any opposition to his
N.V.A.
THEATRICAL CLUBS 301
There was a legit club calling itself the Thespians which didn't
last yen- long. In 1925 the Professional Entertainers of New York,
called the Peonys (from the first letters) was organized. The
membership was made up of vaude actors and entertainers who
played clubs, a large and important part of show biz and a great
source of income for many entertainers. The Peonys have lately
celebrated their silver anniversary, and are still going very strong.
Besides being a social club, they do a great deal of charity work.
The Masquers is one of the most important theatrical clubs of
the West, originally started by members of the Lambs who went
out to Hollywood for pictures. They asked for a charter from the
Lambs, but were refused because it was felt that all those members
would be back in New York soon. So, after waiting a few years, the
boys organized their own club and called it the Masquers. At first
only Lambs were admitted, but then the membership was widened
and today includes all the big names of pics, radio, and TV. They
have a beautiful clubhouse in Hollywood and run some very fine
affairs (called Revels). They are a very important organization and
have contributed a lot to Western theatrical clubdom! (The Lambs
now have monthly meetings on the Coast with about 100
attending.)
There were many clubs started just for laughs, like the Double
Crosses, organized in Gerson's, with ten-cents-a-day dues. Another
one organized at Gerson's Restaurant at the Somerset Hotel was
the Kockamanias, with Marie Hartman as president. Monthly
meetings were held in the Headlined Room back of the restaurant,
which was closed to the public. We would put on a show, with
costumes and special music, lyrics, and book, for which the actors
would rehearse for a week (and all paid for by "Basil" and his
wonderful wife Ella). All they wanted was laughs, and they got
plenty!
At one time some of the boys wanted to revive the Lights Club,
and called themselves the Blitzes, but it didn't last long. Olsen &
Johnson started one7 the Ancient and Honorable Flealess Order of
Pups, with Ole Olsen as Barking Knight (president). They met
whenever and wherever they could. Al Trahan was organizer and
president of the Royal Order of Cutthroats, which was short-lived.
The Ramblers was organized as a press stunt to boost the Clark
& McCullough show of the same name, and it became very big,
with members from all over the country. No dues, no clubhouse,
Lefty's m
just get together ever}' once in awhile for some laughs and beer
drinking. When Paul'McCulloogti died, the Ramblers died also,
as he was the mixer of the team and took charge of the get-
togethers.
Another fly-by-nighter was the Wildcats; the officers were called
Tom Cat, Tiger Cat7 \\Tiite Cat, and Black Cat, and members
were called kittens. It expired when there was no more milk in
the saucer (treasury). Another goofy club organized in the old days
of the Palace was organized at Mark Aaron's Bar next door. They
would get new members as they came in the door. The password
was "I will/' and they would ask the new member, "Who's gonna
buy?'7 to which he would have to give the password, '1 will." (It
was always good for one round of drinks, anyway.)
The Cheese Club was one of the great luncheon clubs of New
York, with actors, press agents, critics, and newspapermen as mem-
bers. Harry Richenbach, the famous press agent, was president
once; then'Harry Hershfield (the raconteur and cartoonist) took it
over and remained president for many years, until they broke up.
In fact, Hershfield is still president! He claims that to get rid of a
president they have to give him a party and a watch, and right
now none of the Cheese Clubbers can afford it. This was one of the
first lunch clubs to kid prominent guests. The Cheese Club had
the distinction of being invited and thrown out of more restaurants
in New York than any other organization in America. There were
no membership dues, no initiation, no nothing! The members
brought guests, and if you were a stranger you could still wander
in, if you took care of your own check!
Which leads me into a story about a certain big night-club
owner and great entertainer whose name happens to be Vincent
Lopez! After attending one of the Cheese Club luncheons, he
applied for membership! The boys started to go "on the rib/' and
they told him it would be tough to get in. To get good will he
invited all the members and their wives and sweethearts to his
famous night club as his guests. They all came, the food was won-
derful, the wine flowed freely, and the check was terrific! At the
end of the evening Arthur Caesar (a great wit and writer) managed
to get up and said, "This has been a wonderful evening, but we
don't want a schmoe (he didn't say schmoe) in our club who
would spend all this money on people like us!" It was a rib, but
Vincent never did get in the club, although he attended all
THEATRICAL CLUBS 303
lunches. ! would write you more about the laughs we used to have
there, "bat I'm sure my pal Ham- Hershfield will write a book about
it some day. He should.
The Coast has an organization called the Troupers, consisting of
pic, legit, and vaude actors, who hold regular meetings and do
much charitable work. The Comedy Club in Hollywood is made
up of old vaude actors, standard and headline acts, who have now
settled out there. They put on a vaudeville show every year that
is the talk of the town. Louis Mosconi (Mosconi Bros.) is the
Headliner (president) . They prove that quality is always in style.
The ladies of the profession also have clubitis! The Twelfth
Night Club is practically (not officially) the feminine branch of
the Lambs, as most of their wives and sweethearts belong to it.
They even put on many of the sketches used by the Lambs at their
Gambols. It is really a great club with a fine membership of
actresses, writers, artists, and housewives. The Dominoes, the lady
branch of the Masquers (also not officially) 7 is a lot like the Twelfth
Night Club in membership and activities. The Ziegfeld Girls Club
is made up of principals and chorus girls who were in the Ziegfeld
shows. They take care of many of the old show gals that find the
going a bit rough. They give an entertainment every year which is
a "must" for all show biz to attend. The Troupers in New York
(no connection with the club by the same name in Hollywood) is
a woman's theatrical club with a membership made up of the
wives of many of the night-club entertainers, disk jockeys, and
radio and TV actors. They do a fine job of charitable work. A young
organization, but a very efficient one.
During Prohibition the actors just had to start another club, and
while it lasted it was the funniest spot in town. It was called the
Fifty-Fifty Club, and its Chef (president) was Hal Beach, the
famous art connoisseur. The membership was the elite of show biz.
Like the Lights, they would get up and entertain each other. With
Harry Ruby (the famous composer) at the piano and Eddie Miller
singing and the choice comedians comedianing, you were sure of a
great night's fun. The members had private lockers that held their
own supposedly prewar liquors. No laymen broke up this great fun
spot as they did the other actors' clubs. The blackout on this one
can be blamed on the wives!
I should also tell you about the many Actors' Guilds, which are
definitely a part of show biz. Although they are not social clubs,
Lefty'® Letters f 3°4
they all do a gregt job of helping so many of our profession. The
Catholic Actors' Guild, the Episcopalian Actors* Guild, the Jewish
Theatrical Guild, and the Negro Actors7 Guild all operate without
regard to race or creed. The Actors' Fund is the oldest of all actors'
charitable organizations. They have taken care of the aged and
sick and needy for over half a century, besides providing a home
for the aged. These are all great organizations, but don't come
under the Heading of theatrical clubs.
The treasurers have the Hellraisers7 club. Another club with
membership consisting of managers, agents, press agents, treasurers,
and businessmen of the theater is the Hot Air Club (first started in
1899) . They ran a clambake at Price's Place at Pleasure Bay on the
Shrewsbury JRiver every year. There are no dues, no meetings, only
get-togethers once a year, and a member can bring a guest (usually
an actor or a showman). I asked my old friend Elliott Foreman
why the name, Hot Air Club? He said, "Because it has always
been rated the ruling commodity of Broadway. While the quality
has been steacfily lowered during the process of orientation, the
quantity of the supply or its free usage upon the Rialto has never
slackened." Which is a good enough reason for any club!
As for the' Lambs (now the oldest and greatest of all actors"
clubs) and the White Rats, I will write you about them in another
letter.
A coupla actors just dropped in on me, I think we'll start a Club!
SEZ
Your pd,
LEFTY
Tlte lambs
Dear Joe,
The oldest theatrical club in America today is the Lambs. It was
Christmas Day in 1874 that five guys who were having supper at
Delmonico's Blue Room, in New York, decided to start a supper
THE LAMBS
305
club, which Henry J. Montague named the Lambs. There was a
club In England called the Lambs, supposedly because in London
actors used to gather at the home of Charles Lamb and his sister,
Man* Lamb, and the line among the actors was, "*Letrs go around
to the Lambs'."
There was another version given by Henry J. Montague, who was
one of the original Lambs in London and who I think should really
know. According to him, a few actors in England occasionally took
a dip in the sea near Dover, in the South of England. Sheep raising
was an important industry in that section of the country, and the
shepherds used the spot as an ideal place to wash their flocks. This
gave the little group the thought of calling themselves the Lambs,
and suggested that the head of the organization be called the
Shepherd, the entertainments be called Gambols, and the big event
be known as the Wash (which is an annual outing given by the
Lambs). Take your "cherce" as to which is correct. But we do
know that Henry J. Montague became the first Shepherd of the
Lambs in America!
It was at the Maison Doree Hotel that the first meeting was held,
and in less than a year the Union Hotel was the site of the first
private supper room. In 1877 they moved to the Matchbox, at 848
Broadway (next to Wallaces Thirteenth Street). The next stop
was the Union Square Hotel, and as the membership grew they
again had to move, this time to the Monument House at 6 Union
Square (Fourteenth Street was then the Rial to) . By now they had
about sixty members.
In 1878 the Lambs moved "uptown" to 19 East Sixteenth Street.
They had a little over $80 in the treasury and J. Lester Wallack
was elected Shepherd and served for seven years. Moving two blocks
away from Fourteenth Street gave the boys courage, so in April
1880 they got their own clubhouse at 34 West Twenty-sixth Street,
which in those days was way uptown. It was here they started the
Gambols. The first Gambol took place in 1888 with Edmund S.
Holland (one of the five original Lambs) as the collie (which
means he produced the show and was the top man of the night,
and also means you go a month without sleep).
A couple of years later the dough ran out and the boys moved to
the Gilsey House and in three years paid off all their creditors. In
1895 they were going strong again with 272 members. The next
year they had plans far another clubhouse, still further uptown
Lefty's Letters 306
(where show biz was moving to), 70 West Thirty-sixth Street.
It was May, 1897, ^at ^Y moveci i°to ^^ new clubhouse (they
call it the Fold). It was the same year that the London Lambs
broke up, and the surviving members were made Honorary Lambs
in America. Sir John Hare, the founder of the Lambs in London,
was made Shepherd Emeritus, and he presented the club with the
original crook and bell and other tokens of office of the London
group, which are still used at our Inauguration Gambols.
By 1902 the membership grew so much they had to get a new
clubhouse. They first took an option on a hunk of property on
West Forty-eighth Street (where the Playhouse was built later),
then they switched to where they are now, 128 West Forty-fourth
Street. That was in 1904 and in 1913 they bought a couple of build-
ings west of their quarters and the western half of the Lambs
building was built. They used Keen's Chop House as temporary
headquarters while the club was being built. The architect was the
famous Stanford White, who later was fatally shot by Harry Thaw
(not for building the Lambs) .
The building contains many valuable paintings presented to the
club by artist members, great names in art like Frederic Remington,
Edward Simmons, W. L. Metcalf, James Montgomery Flagg, How-
ard Chandler Christy, Henry Inman, and Maj. Victor Guinness
(the official Marine Corp painter). There are a lot of valuable
photographs and old programs and stage memorabilia. A shrine to
Lambs who served in two world wars holds a bronze draped figure,
the work of Robert I. Aitken. An annual service is held before it,
with big brass of all services attending. The Lambs did great serv-
ice during both wars. Under the chairmanship of Joseph Buhler,
Phil Green, and Sam Forrest, each member would donate a check
covering the weekly entertainment of service men from all coun-
tries at the clubhouse. Some of the GIs saw their first show at the
Lambs. It was during one of these entertainments that a GI from
the South was asked how he liked it. He said, "I've never seen
'round actors' before." (Only pics.)
One of the outstanding curios is the fife rail of the Spanish
cruiser Mercedes, removed before it was sunk in Santiago Harbor
on July 4, 1898. It was first used as the front of the bar on Thirty-
sixth Street, but now is at the main desk. The mantel over the
present huge fireplace in the Grill was presented by Stanford
White. It was rumored that it came from Pompeii, but it really
THE LAMBS 307
came from Florence, Italy. No matter where It came from,, it really
Is beautiful. The Buddha sitting on top of the fireplace was pre-
sented by Lamb Joseph Keegan, world traveler (especially In the
Orient), who will tell you fantastic stories of how the Buddha was
stolen and finally smuggled Into the country. There is a huge silver
bowl on the large library table, depicting the career of Joseph
Jefferson in his famed role of Rip Van Winkle; It was presented to
him as a testimonial and he In turn gave It to his favorite club.
There were many memorable hours In the Lambs. It wras an
ordinary occurrence for Victor Herbert to play the piano or cello,
and for Caruso to sing, "Has Anybody Here Seen Kelly?" Singers
around the piano might include Chauncey Olcott, John McCor-
mack, and Andrew Mack. Dancers like Harland Dixon, Johnny
Boyle, and Jack Donahue would be dancing to the tune of Rhap-
sody in Blue, played for them by the composer, George Gershwin.
A swell little guy would go to the piano and the gang had to listen
real close to hear him sing his latest hit — Irving Berlin. Great
stories were told by great storytellers. Members included writers,
poets, artists, doctors, lawyers, priests, ministers, mayors, governors,
cabinet members, admirals, generals, flyers, and now our President,
Dwight Eisenhowerl
The "fun nest" in any club is at the bar. The Lambs Is no
exception. There were so many funny things that have happened
at the famous Lambs bar that it would take a book to record ?em
all. But the one that is always told to Lambkins (freshman Lambs)
and guests is about the funny, talented, and lovable Dick Carle.
As you know, Richard Carle was a musical-comedy star, writer,
and fine comedian. By the way, Dick told me and Aggie how he
became a comedian. He was very nearsighted and naturally had to
wear glasses. He was in a show in which he played practically a
straight part. As he was about to make his entrance he dropped
his glasses. Instead of making his entrance through the door, he
did it through a window (which he thought was the door) . He got
a great laugh, took advantage of his mistake, and gave a comedv
performance instead of the straight role he was cast for. From that
day on he was a comedian— and a great one!
Now to get back to the story. At one time bartenders would
decorate the backbar by stacking shiny glasses in fancy designs.
One day while Dick Carle was at the bar drinking with some
brother Lambs, he told a story, and when he got to the climax, he
Lefty's Letters ®®
Illustrated it by taking his cane and with a wide sweep, knocking
all the glasses off the bar! He was suspended for ninety days. (The
members call it being sent to Siberia— which was Pat Finn's
thirst emporium next door, which catered to the exiles.) When
the three months were up, Dick came in and was greeted by the
gang, and of course Dick started celebrating his homecoming with
tonsil soothers. He was there a couple of hours when a member
came over and asked him why he hadn't seen him around the
club in months? "I was sent to Siberia," said Dick. "Is that so?"
said his companion. "What did you do, Dick?" "Nothing. All I
did was take my cane and do this!" And with that he took his cane
and illustrated by knocking all the glasses off the bar again. We
didn't see Dick at the club for another six months, unless we looked
in on Siberia!
There is a fully equipped theater on the third floor that seats
about 300. It is here we give the famous club Gambols; many
of the sketches written for them later became Broadway shows.
The Squaw Man, Her Way Out, with Jim Corbett, The Littlest
Rebel (also played in vaude as a sketch), Experience, As a Man
Thinks, The Witching Hour, Harvest Moon, and The Copperhead,
in which Lionel Barrymore starred, are just a few. Lately Stalag 17
was first shown at the club, and Jose Ferrer saw it and decided to
produce it on Broadway, where it was a big success. It was at these
club Gambols that you would see a great star like John Drew play
the part of a butler, with maybe one line, and some youngster have
the star part. A Lambkin must play "dame" parts his first year (as
no women are allowed in the club) . Some of these who were really
great in make-up and performances were Stanley Ridges, Joe
Santley, EfEngham Pinto, and Bruce Evans.
Tommy C. Lamb (C. stands for Casanova), who was the club's
mascot for many years., was truly a remarkable cat, Merely an
alley cat when he first came to the Lambs, he blossomed forth as
one of the most beautiful cats you have ever seen. There wasn't a
pregnant cat within a radius of six blocks that didn't blame it on
Tom. He really was remarkable. When anyone in the dining room
would order fish (just order it, mind you) he would get up from
his spot on the bar and come to the dining room, right to the table
where the fish was to be served* This has been proven to skeptics
time and time again.
The Gallery Boys (which was a fun-club within the Lambs, like
THE LAMBS 303
the Sliriners in the Masonic Lodge) with Joe Laurie, Jr., president,
Jack Norworth and Fred Hillebrand, board of directors, and a
membership which paid from 25 cents to $5.00 initiation fees, once
gave a dinner to Tommy Lamb. Everybody wore evening clothes,
speeches were made by great after-dinner speakers, while Tommy
stretched out on a special throne, with loads of catnip around him,
paying no attention to the catnip or the speakers, and when it was
all over got up, stretched, yawned, and walked away.
There was a fraternity next door that had a cat that was altered.
The president of the fraternity asked the head of the Gallery Boys
would they invite their cat (to the Tommy Lamb party), seeing
we were neighbors. He was told that ladies weren't allowed and
neither were "nances." He immediately wrote to the New York
Times, telling them his "beef/' which Laurie answered, and the
columns lasted for two weeks. People from all over the country sent
gifts to Tommy, bales of catnip, women knitted shoes and sweaters,
sent dishes, etc. Mickey Walker brought a set of boxing gloves for
him (still hanging in back of the bar). James Montgomery Flagg
did a swell painting of him, as did a gentleman whose name I am
sorry escapes me for the moment, but who is one of the great
animal painters of America. Tommy has long since gone to where
all good cats go, but he left a grandson that carries on; he is even
more talented than his granddad. Under Willie the waiter's train-
ing (Willie has been with us over thirty years), he sits up with a
cigarette in his mouth, wears glasses, holds a newspaper in his paws
and won't move until Willie tells him to. When he gets on the
pool table, the rules are that you must shoot around him; nobody
is allowed to chase him off.
There are three great characters in the Lambs7 employ— Murphy
(Biagio Velluzzi), the bootblack, Sammy Pinsker, the night man,
and, of course, Margie Henley, the chief telephone operator. All
have been with The Lambs over thirty-five years. At one time Gene
Buck, who helped produce over fifteen Ziegfeld Follies and who was
the president of AS CAP for many years, dressed Murphy up in
white tie and tails with a red ribbon across his shirt front and a
couple of medals and brought him over to the Ziegfeld Midnight
Frolics where he and Leon Errol introduced him as an Italian count
to the girls (and whispered that he was loaded with dough) . The
girls all made over him and he ended up with a half a dozen phone
numbers slipped to him during the evening. On opening nights he
Lefty's Letters 31°
puts on his high hat and tuxedo and personally delivers a scroll
from the Lambs to any member who may be in the cast. Sammy
never fails to give you a "God bless you>T; he has taken care of many
a big and little star with money and doctoring, and Is always cheer-
ful and optimistic. Sammy and Murphy know more about show
folks than anyone I ever met. We have them appear in many a
Gambol and they know their lines better than many of the actors.
Two real great gentlemen of whom the Lambs are very proud. The
Lambs would be a lonesome place without "God bless you" Sammy
and Murphy!
Last year the Lambs had a Ladies Day, the first one in its history.
It was fought by many members, but the Shepherd, Bert Lytell,
won out and it proved to be one of the really great events of the
Lambs, although many of the members stayed away in protest.
There are only four living Shepherds: William Gaxton, the present
Shepherd, who also sewed 1936-1939; Fred Waring, 1939-1942;
John Golden, 1942-1945; and Bert Lytell, 1947-1952.
The club's constitution makes it mandatory for the membership
to consist of three professionals to one nonprofessional, which
insures that the club always be in control of professionals. It is the
only theatrical club that owns its own building outright— no
mortgages.
An actors' club that can last seventy-nine years is a wonder in
itself, but the Lambs happens to be a wonderful club. If the Lambs
died, the theater would die. SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
The White Rats and the W.V.A-
Dear Joe,
Conditions in vaudeville around 1900 were pretty bad. The
U.B.O. had things their own way. They had gypping agents, graft-
ing bookers, cancellation clauses in the contracts, and switching of
THE WHITE RATS AND THE N.Y.A.
311
routes, which meant they would lay out a nice route for you, with
short jumps which you could afford to take at the salary they
offered, then would switch dates where you had to make big jumps
that ate up a lot of your salary. Some acts were paying as high as
20 per cent commission. All of these things led George Fuller
Golden, one of our great monologists, to suggest to his friends that
they ought to have an organization that would not only be social
but also try to eliminate these abuses.
So on June i, 1900, at a meeting in the Parker House bar, the or-
ganization was started. George Fuller Golden was the founder and
first Big Chief (president); Dave Montgomery, Little Chief (veep);
James J. Morton, Scat Rat (secretary); Mark Murphy, Treasurat
(treasurer); Charles T. Aldrich, Chap Rat (chaplain); Tom Lewis,
Guard Rat (sergeant at arms). The Board of Governors were Sam
Morton, Fred Stone, Jim Dolan, Sam Ryan, and Nat Wills (all
headliners). The name White Rats was taken from a fine and well-
organized actors' club in London called the Water Rats (named
after a race horse which a group of actors owned and the dough
they won on him was given to charity) . Golden had a great regard
for them (when he played London they entertained him royally);
when they refused to let anyone use their name, Golden called the
new organization the White Rats. (Spelled backwards is star!)
They tried to talk Keith and the U.B.O. into cutting out many
of the abuses, like the morning tryouts for new acts at the
Fifth Avenue Theater, where, when the managers didn't like an
act, they had the curtain Ring down on it (which naturally got
the actors very angry), the cancellation clauses, etc. But Keith
wouldn't listen. They held a meeting at their clubrooms, then on
West Twenty-third Street over a saloon.
It was at this very important meeting, where they were going to
decide whether to strike or not, that a very funny thing happened.
One of the members was a "dese, dose, and dem" song-and-dance
man, who was a very enthusiastic member and was continually
getting up and making one-syllable speeches and being generally
laughed at. At this meeting a young man who had just come in
from the West got the floor and made a speech that was beauti-
fully languaged, with fine philosophy and reasoning, and the
members were spellbound by his oratory. When he finished they
cheered and carried him around on their shoulders. It was then
that the song-and-dance man got up on a chair and yelled, "That's
Lefty's Letters 312
what I've been trying to tell you dumb bastards for weeks!" The
young man who made that wonderful speech, which they claim
really decided the White Rats to declare a strike, was
J. C. Nugent!
The strike was a bust, because many of the actors were double-
crossing each other. The U.B.O. knew the key men of the club
and would offer them nice long routes at better money than they
had ever received, while others were turning down routes and
fighting for their cause. They took the routes, left town, and so
weakened the White Rats. Many acts were blacklisted and driven
out of the business. The Rats were practically dead for seven
years, until a young Englishman with a terrific gift of gab, by the
name of Harry Mountford, took an interest in it and soon had ar
enthusiastic bunch of vaude actors following him. When the
U.B.O. found that they couldn't buy him off, which they tried
many a time, offering as high as a quarter of a million bucks (by the
way, Mountford died a very poor man), they started pounding the
guy in the trade papers, charging him with everything in the book,
burglary, rape, bigamy, and mayhem. And when he got Samuel
Gompers, the head of the American Federation of Labor, to give
the White Rats a charter, the Rats turned from a social club into
a fighting labor union. They left their small quarters at 1439 Broad-
way, and leased the upper part of Churchill's Restaurant on Forty-
sixth Street and Broadway, where they had a few sleeping rooms,
large meeting hall, pool tables, etc. That was in 1907.
Members were pouring in, as conditions in vaude was getting
worse than back in 1900. The Keith-Albee boys were getting wor-
ried and declared a blacklist of some of the White Rat leaders.
Mountford started the White Rats' own weekly magazine, called
The Player, in which he kept writing hot editorials telling about
the terrible things the U.B.O. was doing to vaude and its actors.
The union also bought an interest in the Mozart Circuit, which
had small-time vaude houses in Pennsylvania and New York State.
(Did you know that Woolworth had a theater in Lancaster, Penn-
sylvania? It was one which they booked.) They could give a small-
time act about thirty weeks. The small-time managers looked with
favor on the idea of the Rats running an independent circuit, for
it gave them a freedom they couldn't get elsewhere, even with a
payment of a weekly fee to the booking office (and a side fee to
the booker— to insure good service) which the union didn't charge.
THE WHITE RATS AND THE N.V.A. 313
The Player started out with a lot of advertising, "but soon the
acts (and even the commercial people) started to withdraw their
ads because of the fear of being blacklisted. The blacklist was a
horrible weapon, which was used freely by Mr. Albee. An act would
suddenly find itself turned down by agents and managers, and yet
didn't know it was blacklisted. There were a half a dozen acts that
swore they were going to kill Albee for taking away their livelihood,
They were talked out of it by their fellow actors. Albee had many
spies in the White Rats, who reported everything that was said
and done. He also had spies on bills who sent in reports on the
acts as to how they felt toward the White Rats and the booking
office; they were paid off with steady bookings. The White Rats
knew who these people were^ as there were people in the booking
office that didn't like Albee and were tipping the Rats off to what
was going on in the office. (A pretty mess, eh?) None of the
White Rats would wear their buttons; that was a sure invitation
for the blacklist.
After four years they had to give up The Player, and Variety
offered them a few pages every week to tell their story and announce
meetings, etc., without any charge and also without in any way
changing their own editorial policy, which was anti-White Rat,
although it was Sime who originally told the actors to organize to
fight the U.B.O. But Sime never liked Mountford, whom he
thought too much of a rabble rouser and a hothead, and wanted to
see somebody cooler leading the actors. It was funny reading the
Variety in those days, first reading a few pages panning Albee, the
V.M.P.A., and Variety, then you'd turn a few pages and read
Sime's editorial against the White Rats, then a few pages of ads
from the U.B.O. and V.M.P.A. telling how good they were and
how terrible the White Rats and Mountfoid were.
In 1912 the White Rats were very powerful and had a large
enough membership to open a new clubhouse on West Forty-sixth
Street, which was financed by many of the members buying bonds.
It was one of the finest clubhouses in America, Everything was
going along fine. The Rats had a 5 per cent commission bill passed
at Albany, gave a lot of Scampers (that's what they called their
entertainments), and kept taking pot shots at the managers, until
1916, when the lid finally blew offl
They called a few strikes, one in Oklahoma, then in Boston, and
then in tbe Loew theaters in New York City. They helped the
Lefty's Letters *™
stagehands by walking out when they were fighting for a uiron
shop. When they got It they walked back to work and left the
White Rats In the cold. There was a lot of rough stuff, stink
bombs, etc.
A funny thing happened at the Scollay Square Theatre in Boston
during the strike there. The management got a lot of "coast
defenders" (actors who just played clubs, etc., in and around Bos-
ton) and told them that they would be set for a big route at big
dough if they would go on. There was this one guy who hadn't
been on the stage for years, and It all sounded good to him. In the
front row there were a dozen big husky acrobats wafting for the
scabs to appear. This fellow opened with a song which started,
"Well, well, well, I just came from the West . . ." when he saw
the acrobats sitting glaring at him from the first row. He took one
look and sang, "And Tm going right back again!" He walked off
the stage and right out of the stage door and never came back! But
there were plenty of scabs who didn't scare.
The strike was a bad flop!
It cost the managers a couple of million dollars to break the
strike. So they started to organize a vaude actors' club to fight the
Rats. It wasn't very hard to get some actors to "front" it. They
used the finest bait In the world, "a good route at good money"
. . . few could resist biting. They called it the National Vaudeville
Artists, better known later as the N.V.A. (some wag said N.V.A.
stood for Never Vex Albee). To make sure of getting members,
Albee Issued an order that before you could get your contracts for
any of the VJVLP.A. (Vaudeville Managers Protective Association)
houses (which practically covered all of vaude), you would have
to give up your membership in the Rats and be a member in good
standing in the N.V.A. To make it double sure, they hired an
apartment directly opposite the White Rats' clubhouse, checked
all those who were going in, and quickly put them on the blacklist.
Soon the members got wise to what was being done, and little
by little the attendance fell off, the dues stopped coming in, and
the club had to take a mortgage of $5,000 on its furnishings. That
soon was spent, and the bank made them a proposition: they had
a "certain party" that would take over the property and even pay
the clubhouse debts. The Rats had to take it. It turned out later
that the "certain party" was Albee, who paid off the bondholders
THE WHITE RATS AND THE N.V.A* 315
(which legally he didn't have to do, as the Rats were bankrupt).
He also supervised a complete renovating job cm the already beau-
tiful clubhouse, and in about six months they had a new opening
of the N.V.A. clubhouse. He really had made it even more beauti-
ful than it was, a lot of spic and splendor, plenty of red and
marble. It had 106 sleeping rooms which rented for $1.50 to $3.00
a day, swimming pool, etc. It was so swanky that they claim the
acrobats came in walking on their hands!
Everybody in show biz was there opening night. You just had to
be there, as noses were being counted (especially the noses of the
"name acts??)y and if you didn't show up, you stood a good chance
of losing your route (if you had one). It was funny that the only
picture in the whole place was a picture of George M. Cohan with
an autograph reading, "To my first Boss, with all kinds of good
wishes— George M. Cohan, March 17, 1919." I say it's funny that a
picture given to Albee should be shown, when it was supposed to
be an actors9 clubl
As secretary Albee stuck in an old vaude actor, Henry Chester-
field, who ran the club as per Albee's orders. Albee gave the actors
a play-or-pay contract, with plenty of fanfare. A few months later
he put back the cancellation clause — without fanfare. He set up a
committee of actors and managers to hear the actors* beefs against
the managers and the complaints of actors against other acts that
stole their material. (The decisions were mostly against the man-
agers in the cases concerning them.) Albee gave tremendous bene-
fit shows, running in four houses at one time with hundreds of top
acts. He had the baskets passed in every vaude house in America
during the N.V.A. week, when extra acts would go on for free
(advertised and boosting biz) and make a plea to the audience to
give to the N.V.A., which was taking care of the poor actors. (Can
you imagine making the public support his company union?) He
made the actors advertise in the special programs for these affairs.
They had to take space according to their salaries. All these things
brought in millions of dollars. In 1916 there was $3,500,000 in the
Fund from these benefits, collections, and programs. A private
joke among acts those days was that after the N.V.A. collections
all the managers and ushers had new suits. You see, there was no
check-up; the ushers would go through a dark theater with an open
basket after each show, which they turned over to the manager,
Lefty's Letters 3*6
who In ton sent it to the main office, who in turn turned it over
to the N.V.A. Nobody checked what the main office received-
catch on?
Albee gave members a $1,000 death benefit. (Duffy & Sweeney
wired the N.V.A., "We died here at the matinee, please send
$1,000.") Albee would sign the check (he had no official office in
the club, in fact at that time he wasn't even a member), and have
it photostated and printed in all the trade papers, with a copy of
tie letter of condolence he sent to the nearest of kin. In 1930 he
opened the N.V.A. lodge at Saranac (original idea of William
M orris) which was for members of the theatrical profession suffer-
ing from TB. He also started the Vaudeville News, with Walter
Winchell as a columnist (his first job as such), which he believed
would put Variety out of business. (He also backed the Star,, a
trade paper, to fight Variety.) Albee spent all this dough without
consulting the board of directors; it was a one-man organization*
He later decided to admit lay members and agents and bookers
and managers and their friends. They were blackjacked into mem-
bership as the actors had been. It got so the members were afraid
to talk in the clubhouse because they feared there were dictaphones
in the Joint. There were— human dictaphones!
In 1934 the White Rats, who went "underground" and tried to
get by with a 5 per cent levy on the salaries of the few faithful,
had to call it a day, as they couldn't show the AFL any dues-paying
members, so they gave up their charter to Equity, Years later the
American Federation of Actors (which originally started as an anti-
benefit group— you were veep, so should know about it) received
the charter from Equity for vaudeville and night clubs; it was the
first vaude actors7 union in fifteen years. (Now it is called the
American Guild of Variety Artists and has jurisdiction over night
clubs and what is left of vaude.)
When vaude got real bad, Albee lost interest in the N.V.A.; he
didn't need it anymore, and neither it nor anything else could
hurt vaude any more than it was already hurt. The N.V.A. had to
give up its beautiful clubhouse and take up quarters a few doors
up the street, and after a few years they took over the Friars'
rooms in the Edison Hotel Annex Building, when the Friars moved
to their new home on West Fifty-sixth Street. The N.V.A. walked
out of their clubhouse cursing Albee. He never forgave them for it,
and when he died he didn't leave them a penny.
FIRSTS 317
The N.V.A. managed to get along without Albeer not In big-
time style, bat with more self-respect. They give a show annually
that brings in enough dough to keep themselves going. The dues
are reasonable and they enjoy playing cards and checkers, and
exchanging memories. It's a great place for the old-time vaude
acts, many of whom were originally WMte Rats. Funny, eh? — or
is it? SEZ
Your pal,
Firsts
Dear Joe,
To say that somebody in vaudeville was the first to do a certain
act, gag, or piece of business is sticking your neck out further than
a giraffe! It is a lot different in show biz than in any other business
where you can definitely trace the beginning, like a patent. The
same goes for law and medicine, but in vaude you can go back in
research just so far. You don't have much chance of tracing back
to someone who originated something and didn't get to New York
with it (which is practically the patent office of show biz) to show
it to the bookers, audiences, and actors. Somebody else who beat
them to it would have received credit for being first, because he
had a chance to show it on Big Time, while the originator was
doing it on small time and wasn't seen or noticed.
There have been many instances where the originator had to
cut his own material out of his act to keep from being called a
pirate. Taylor Holmes is a case in point. He was one of the first
to do Kipling's poem, "Gunga Din/' and he did it very well. He was
asked by the Keith office to please cut it out of his act on the
circuit, because Clifton Crawford, a new headliner, depended on
the poem for the finish of his act Naturally, Taylor Holmes cut it
out (rather than maybe lose his route) for about six months, and
Lefty's Letters 318
then decided to put It back in his act, and everybody (Including
'trade papers, who should have known better) accused him of
"copying" Clifton Crawford, who by now was identified with
"Gunga Din77 (which, by the way, he really did great). Taylor
Holmes stopped using It.
What you can do in mentioning "firsts" is to say that a certain
act was Identified with It. There Is no doubt that many acts known
for such special things were the originators. Naturally they, like
anyone else, must have got the idea from something else, because
there aie very few things new, especially In show biz I
Will Mahoney's dancing on a xylophone with hammers fastened
to his shoes was new, because there is no record of anybody doing
that particular thing before him; but there were dancers who
danced with brashes on their feet, also with buckets and snowshoes.
Nothing like dancing on a xylophone, you say? But to a showman
that would be merely a "switch," to which me and Aggie don't
agree. Stair dancing was done years before Bill "Bojangles" Robin-
son, but Bill put a new twist to it and added great showmanship,
and all the others are forgotten. If Al Leach (a great artist) could
come back today and do his stair dance (which he did about
twenty years before Bill), everybody would accuse him of taking
It from Bill. Harry Bichman, who was on radio many years before
Jolson, established himself with his own style of singing, and when
Jolson went on the radio, he was accused by many people of
"copying" Bichman's style. Edison invented the phonograph in
1877, but there was a guy called Leon Scott who invented a
"phonautograph" in 1857. Edison improved on it and nobody ever
heard of Scott. See what I mean?
So when I mention the following firsts, you will know what I
mean. Many of them originated what they were doing, many of
them revived something that had been forgotten for twenty-five
years or more and so were credited for being original, but most of
'em put a new "twist" to it which made it practically an original.
After years of research, I want to say that you'd be surprised to
learn how few things are "original" in show biz todayl
Here are a few that you may find interesting.
1792: Team of Placide & Martin did somersaults over tables and
chairs.
FIRSTS 319
1850: Bibs & Bibs known as "Family Affairs/* was the oldest comedy
skit. Later revived by Mr. & Mrs. Harry Thome, the first to do It
In variety.
1864: Nick Norton & Billy Emmett and Sheridan & Mack were the
first to do a double Dutch act. The latter did "Helnrich's
Return" or "The Emigrants."
1865: First real double Irish act was done by McNulty & Murray,
"The Boys from Limerick" (long before Harry & John Kernell) .
1869: Jim Kehoe Invented the Kehoe Clubs (used in swinging
contests).
1870: Harry Montague did the first double-entendre act.
1872: Walter Wentworth did the first contortion act in variety.
Hugh Dougherty and Ad Ryman were the first to do "stump
speeches" in variety. (Done earlier in minstrel shows.)
Colonel Burgess was the first to wear big comedy shoes.
Sam Rickey was a bit ahead of the original Pat Rooney as the
first well-known Irish comic, but Pat Rooney was the first to be
recognized as a star.
1875: Maggie Weston Introduced the first "Irish biddy" In variety.
Sandford & Wilson were one of the first comedy musical acts.
The French Twins and the Raymond Sisters were the first sister
acts.
The first blackface quartette was called the "Hamtown Stu-
dents."
John Le Clair was one of the first single jugglers in variety.
The original comedy acrobatic act was performed by Johnson &
Bruno*
1874: The first German comedians appeared; they were Gus Wil-
liams, George S. Knight, and Lew Spencer. (Gus Williams was
tops.)
De Witt Cook did a club-juggling act.
1876: E. M. Hall was considered the greatest of all banjo players.
Frank Bush, Howard & Thompson, and Sam Curtis started the
"Jew comic" craze. (All were non-Jewish.)
Jimmy Bradley originated the sand-jig dance and Kitty O'Neill
was first woman to do it.
Lefty's Letters ***
1877: First real sketch artists were John and Maggie Fielding,
followed by Charles Rogers and Mattie Vickers-
1877: The Original Foot Kings, Emerson, Clark, and the Daly
Bros., were first to do kicking at objects, such as hats, cigar boxes,
tambourines, etc.
The Poole Bros, did the first acrobatic clog dance.
1878: Gus Hill was the first outstanding club swinger.
Jap & Fanny Delano were the first outstanding man and woman
talking act.
First water-tank act, such as eating under water, was Wallace,
the "Man Fish."
Lurline was the first woman performing an underwater tank act.
1879: Maggie Cline was the first single-woman comedy Irish singer.
Fanny Beane, Millie, and the Barretts did the first "lady" song
and dance acts.
First variety children stage artists were Baby Rhinehart, Little
Rosebud, Baby McDonald, and Master Dunn.
First male singing trio was the Three Rankins.
Bunth & Rudd did a double comedy magic act.
1880: Imro Fox was the first single comedy magician,
James F. Hoey ("Old Hoss'7 Hoey & Evans) was the first "nut"
comedian.
Ryan & Ryan did a burlesque boxing bit; so did McNish & John-
son, Gallagher & Griffin, Casey & Reynolds, and McCabe &
Emrnett. Miller & Lyles came years later and revived it. Moran
& Mack took it from them.
1881: Carrie Swain was the first woman in blackface to do a
knockabout acrobatic act.
1884: Weber & Fields first did an Irish act dressed in short
breeches, including paper tearing, and clog dancing. They ap-
peared between acts of a melodrama at the old Windsor Theatre
on the Bowery.
1885: Leon, William Henry Rice, Charles Heywood, and Lind?
were the first of the female impersonators.
Lottie Gilson was the first to have a singing "plant" in the audi-
ence, also first to sing to a "baldheaded" man in the audience,
FIRSTS 321
kter shining mirror on his head, etc. (She did this act tip to
1905.)
1886: Johnny Lorenze (Cook & Lorenze) did first torkey trot in
barrooms with Guy Hawley. Guy Hawley was the first to do a
%reak" on the piano.
1886: First buck dancing done in burly by Johnny Jess (he also
played in variety).
Bert Williams first to ptill expression, "If s a bear"; he danced on
sidewalks of Denver, when the turkey trot was called the "Denver
Drag-
Rocking table first done by Caroll & Nealey, the "Nickelplated
Coons"; they used two tables and a barrel Afterwards done by
Sully & Nealey, also Buckley & Dwyer. But it was Bert Melrose
who made it famous.
First comedy piano act done by Charlie Thatcher; he did it as
a specialty in the pit for his overture in Denver. Will H. Fox
was the first to do a comedy piano act on the stage, followed by
Tom Waters.
1888: Blockson & Burns did a comedy perch act (suspended from
a wire, doing all kinds of impossible stunts) . Collins & Hart came
later and made it famous all over the world.
The American Four were considered the greatest quartette; it
consisted of two famous two-man acts who doubled up. Wayne &
Lovely, Cotton & Bedue; and the Big Four, same type of act,
came later and also were great, with Lester & Allen and Smith &
Waldron.
The first "Tddding" act and "topical songsters" were Lester &
Allen.
Lew Randall was the first buck-and-wing dancer.
Dainty Katie Seymour (of London) was the first "skirt" dancer.
Charles Guyer & Nellie O'Neill were the first "roughhouse"
•t *
dancers.
Delahanty & Hengler were the first to do "neat" Irish song and
dance.
Professor Davis and Tiovollo were the first ventriloquists to
introduce the mechanical walking and talking figures.
The first "electrical clown" was Henr Tholen; he sang with a
poodle.
Lefty's Letters 322
Topack & Steele were the first knockabout comedians.
Major Burke was the original lightning-drill artist with musket
and bayonet.
Melville & Stetson, a sister act, were first to do imitations.
Lester & Williams, Arthur O'Brien, Lew Carroll, Joe Flynn (he
wrote "Down Went McGinty") of Sheridan & Flynn, and Harry
& John Dillon started the parody craze. (Hoey & Lee came later.)
Caron & Herbert were the first acrobatic clowns in variety.
The Borani Brothers (Englishmen) were the first to do a certain
somersault known as the "Borani somersault."
The Garnella Brothers were first to do the "shoulder to shoulder"
double.
The Sigrist Family were the first American acrobatic troupe.
The Bohee Bros, were first to do a double banjo song-and-dance
act.
Harper & Stencil were the first double one-legged song-and-dance
men. Harper had his right leg off, while Stencil had his left leg
off. They wore the same size shoes and would buy just one pair
for both of them.
Yeamans & Titus (Annie Yeamans* daughter) did one of the first
piano acts.
Jolly Nash and John W. Kelly were the first extemporaneous
singers,
George Cain did the first "smoke7' singing; he would put the full
lighted cigar in his mouth while singing, and the smoke would
come out of his mouth. The song he sang was "While I'm
Smoking."
George Wilson introduced the first "laughing song/'
Harry G. Richmond was the first to do a "tramp" act.
Kelly & Murphy did the first boxing act on the stage in variety.
1895: Lumiere's Motion Pictures were first shown in Keith's Union
Square Theatre.
1898: First continuous vaude at Keith's in Boston. Next year
Proctor did it at the Twenty-third Street Theatre, beating Keith
to it in New York.
1906: J. Royer West and Van Siclyn used sandwich men to adver-
tise their acts to agents in front of the St. James Building and
FIRSTS 323
in front of Hammerstein's. Laurie & Aleen did it yean later at
the American Theatre, as did Bob Hope and other acts.
1907: First "family vaudeville."
Harry Sefton and O'Brien Havel were among the first to do
"drunken" acrobatic rolls.
George Primrose was the first to wear different colored evening
clothes.
First barefoot dancer in vaude was Mildred Howard De Gray.
1908: The Hawaiian Trio (with Toots Papka) was the first to
introduce the steel guitar.
Toots Papka was the first Hawaiian dancer in vaude.
1909: Chuck Conners, in an act at Loew's Columbia, Brooklyn,
first used the expression, "gorilla/7 meaning a tough guy or
hoodlum.
Harrison Brockbank was first to do Kipling's Barrack-Room
Ballads in New York.
Henry E. Dixie was first comedian to do a burlesque on ballet.
Bickle & Watson were first to do burlesque music.
Billy Gould was first to do "conversational song and dance/'
telling gags while dancing with gal.
1920: Belle Baker was first to do "Eli, Eli" in vaude. Allan Rogers
was the first tenor to do it in vaude.
Brendel & Burt were first to do duet with phonograph record;
Brendel did lip movements to Tetrazzini's singing.
The first act doing double talking with a phonograph was done
by Richard Craig7 Sr.
1921: Reeder & Armstrong were about the first double piano act.
1922: Aileen Stanley was first on stage with a radio outfit and
amplifier.
1924: Roland Hayes was first Negro to do a concert. (Jules Bled-
soe of Francis & Bledsoe was second.)
1929: Charlie Freeman was the originator of the intact rotating
units for the Inter-State and Keith Circuits.
And here are a few odds and ends:
The Barlow Brothers and Girard Bros, were the originators of
the double sand-jig dancing.
Lefty's Letters 324
Fred Hillebrand (& Vera Michelina) was the first to use, "Give
the little girl a hand!" It was taken by Texas Guinan, who said7
"Give the little girl a big hand!" and became famous for it!
Shooting finishes and black-outs,, which so many acts and revues
used, was done by the Byrnes Bros, in "Eight Bells" way back in
the ?gos,
Joe Hyman (Hyman & Franklin) was the writer of and the first
to do "Cohen on the Telephone." This American act spent over
forty years playing in England, where it is still a big hit.
Benny Fields (not Rudy Vallee) was the first to sing through a
megaphone on stage.
Blossom Seeley was the first to start the finger-snapping style of
singing syncopation.
Clarice Vance had the first mirror dress. Mindil Kingston (World
& Kingston) wore a cloak with mirrors in Follies of 1910. Miss
Vance sued. Miss Kingston claimed her father invented it over
40 years before (1870), that mirror dresses was the natural evolu-
tion from mirror held in the hand against a spotlight for flirta-
tion numbers. Miss Vance won, by proving there were no spot-
lights in thosp days.
Jack Norworth was the first actor to write a column for Variety.
This will give you an idea of some of the "firsts" in variety and
vaude. I mentioned many more in my other letters to you7 which
you can add to this list if you want to.
There were many arguments in vaude as to "firsts/7 There were
two acrobats who claimed they were the first to use colored hand-
kerchiefs to wipe off the perspiration, instead of the regular white
ones used by all other acrobatic acts. So you can Just imagine.
Me and Aggie never did hear anyone claim that they were the
first to kill vaudeville, and believe me, a lot of 'em could have
claimed it and been right. SEZ
YOUT pal,
LEFTY
ACCOMPANIED BY . . . 325
Accompanied by
Dear Joe,
If you were any kind of a vaude fan, yon must have heard some
act reciting Robert W. Service's "Spell of the Yukon/' With an
amber spot and a red bandana around his neck to lend atmosphere,
he'd go into:
Ragtime Kid was having a drink,
There was no one else on the stool,
And the stranger stumbled across the room
And flopped down like a fooL
In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt
He sat and I seen him sway,
With a talon hand he clutched the keys,
God, but the man could play!" Etc., etc.
The audience would settle back and recite word for word with
the actor.
Hartley Claude Myrick was the original "ragtime kid7' of the
poem; he passed on a few years ago in Seattle, Washington, at the
age of 65. When he was a young man, he played piano in all
the honky-tonks from Nome to Chilkoot Pass and was known as the
Ragtime Kid. His passing brings to mind many of the "ragtime
kids" who were so important to vaude in its heyday. They first
started out as just piano players; then when they got a bit more
important they were billed, "at the piano, Mr. So-and-So," and
when vaude got real classy, it copied from the concert stage and
billed them as "accompanists." Often they became part of die act
and sometimes the best part of it.
Back in the 19205 it was estimated that one third of all the vaude
acts had a piano player. Many times there were so many piano acts
on one bill that they followed each other, which made it nice for
the second piano player, who inherited warm keys.
At first the piano player got no billing; he would sneak onto the
stage in the dark while the act he was playing for was in the spot-
Lefty's Letters 32S
ligjht, and at the finish he would sneak off the way he came on.
Some of them were loaned to the star by the publishing house to
help pot over its songs. Then when single singers found it was
better to cam- a piano player than to depend on orchestras, they
started to bill them.
Where piano players came from and where they went to, no one
knows and no one seems to care. About one in every ten piano
players in vaude wTas a musician or entertainer, whose business was
p:aiio playing. Many of these later became recognized composers,
mostly of pop songs. But many of them played by ear, and when
they didn't do that, they knew enough "classical" music to get by
with the audience. While the gal was making a change, the piano
player had to do a solo or specialty. Some were tricksters, like
playing with one hand, or playing standing on their heads, or play-
ing "Dixie" with the left hand and "Yankee Doodle" with the
light, "'both simultaneously/' as they would announce it. And
others would play "Alexander's Ragtime Band" as different com-
posers might have written it.
Piano players were an easy lot. They didn't care if the piano was
set in a wood scene or at the end of a stream or even a street; the
backdrop was immaterial to the piano player. He could play any-
where. He was satisfied as long as the gallery boys left him alone,
which was sometimes hard for a gallery to do, especially when he
was dressed in tails or a near-fitting tux to kinda classy up the act.
When playing at the Jefferson on East Fourteenth Street, Loew's
Delancey Street, or the Colonial, a piano player would take no
chances and would wear street clothes, which many times was just
as funny!
Single women used up more piano players than anybody else.
With a. single woman he had a heavier job than just accompanying.
He would take care of the railroad and hotel reservations, check
the baggage, collect the salary, pay out the tips, take care of the
rehearsals and props, and maybe bring up coffee to the lady with
the morning mail, and sometimes ended by marrying the gal.
Nora Bayes had about the most piano players of anyone during
her vaude career. She had such great accompanists as Harry Akst
(who accompanied Al Jolson on all his GI tours), Lou Alter, Gus
Klienecke, Bernard Fairfax, Seymour Simon, Robert Goldie, Abel
Baer (writer of "Mother's Eyes"), the great George Gershwin, Ted
Shapiro, Edmund Goulding (later to become a famous Hollywood
ACCOMPANIED BY . . . 327
director), Eddie Weber, Leo Edwards, Dudley Wilkinson, and
Dave Stamper (composer for many Follies). Irene Bordoni was
her closest ninner-op7 using Loo Grandi, Mattie Levine, Lou Alter,
Leo Edwards, Gitz Rice, Eddie Weber, Leon Vavarra, and Mel-
ville Ellis to play for her. Anna Chandler had Eddie Fitzgerald,
Lester Lee, Arthur Samuels,, and Sydney Landfield (now a Holly-
wood producer). Marion Harris had Billy Griffith, Jessie Greer,
Phil Goldberg (her first husband), Lou Handman, J. Russell
Robinson, and Eddie Weber.
Eva Tanguay started in 1896 with George M. Fenberg; he was
her director-pianist. She never used a piano on stage, as she needed
all the room she could get. Her piano players would work in the
pit, mostly as director, and of course would play for her rehearsals.
She had Jack Stern, Charlie Seville, Al Pardo (her husband), and
Eddie Weber, who played for her for ten years— a record with Eva!
Sophie Tucker had Slim Pressler, Al Siegel, Jack Carroll, and Ted
Shapiro. Ted has been with her for over twenty-five years, which
makes him the dean of all accompanists of lady singles.
Among the men singles, Frank Fay used up plenty of ivory
ticklers, like Harry Akst, Adam Carroll, Dave Dwyer, Clarence
Gaskill, and Gitz Rice. And Harry Fox as a single (and when play-
ing with Beatrice Curtis) had Harry De Costa, Harry Gray, Lew
Pollack, Jean Schwartz, Charlie Seville, and Eddie Weber.
Leo Edwards and Eddie Weber are about tops for the number
of acts they played for. Leo's list has names like Lillian Russell,
Andrew Mack, George Primrose, Ralph Hertz, Clark & Bergman,
Grace LaRue, Fanny Brice, Kitty Gordon, Orville Harold, Marie
Dressier, Cissie Loftus, Bunny Granville, Marie Cahill, Adelaide &
Hughes, Bessie Wynn, Mabel McCane, Nora Bayes, John Charles
Thomas, Marie Tempest, and Irene Bordoni to his credit. Eddie
Weber is right up there with names like Eva Tanguay, Adelaide &
Hughes, Harry Fox & Beatrice Curtis, Whiting & Burt, Marion
Harris, Fanny Brice, the Cameron Sisters, Karyl Norman, Ruth
Roland, Irene Bordoni, Carter De Haven & Flora Parker, Nora
Bayes, Cross & Dunn, John L. Fogarty, Fanny Ward, Ann Sey-
mour, Frank DeVoe, and Estelle Taylor.
You will notice that the vaude piano players were interchange-
able and had a great turnover. Some only wanted to play for acts
around New York. Acts would change piano players because of
temperament, or with single women because "love" had entered
Lefty's Letters 328
the picture* or for a dozen other reasons. When an act went bad,
they'd always blame it on the piano player, but in the old days a
good one could always get a job.
To mention just a few of the boys who were tops at "thumping
the box," there were Clarence Gaskill, Harry Akst, Jerry Jamegan,
Burt Green, Mike Bernard, Lou Alter, Ernie Ball, Lew Pollack,
Lou Handman, Harry Richman, Harold Aden, Martin Broones,
Halsey Mohr, Jimmy Steiger, Andy Byrnes, }. Fred Coots, Adam
Carroll, Abel Baer? Con Conrad, Fred Clinton, Harry De Costa,
Vincent Lopez, Joe Santley, Raymond Walker, Elmore White,
Harry Tighe, Willie White, Clarence Senna, Eddie Moran, Harry
Carroll, Joe Daly, Sidney Franklin, Mel Morris, Martin Freed,,
Billy Griffith, Jack Joyce, Arthur Johnson, Gitz Rice, Charlie
Straight, Cliff Friend, Al Siegel, Jack Denny, Cliff Hess, Arthur
Freed, Abner Silver, Henry Marshall, George Gershwin, and Jerome
Kern, who played for Edna Wallace Hopper when he was a publish-
ing-house staff writer, salesman, and piano player!
Among the women accompanists were Emma Adelphi (the late
Mrs. Jack Norworth), who played for Jack, Billy Glason, and was
the partner of Janet Adair. Mildred Brown played for Rae Samuels
and Marguerite Young; Edyth Baker played for Harry Fox; and
the great Hfldegarde played for Wait Hoyt, Mickey Cochrane,
Dora "Boots" Early, and the DeMarcos, until she decided to play
and sing herself into stardom. Lou Silvers, Mile. Henrietta Henri,
and Florence Kingsley played for Eddie Miller. Dolly Jordan had
Theo Lightner (who was also part of the Lightner Sisters and
Alexander act) play for her. Rae Samuels had Mildred Land and
Bea Walker as pianists. The gal stuck to their jobs longer than the
average male accompanist.
When vaude fell apart, many of the piano players did very well
writing hit songs, and others spread around cafes and night clubs.
Many, too many, have changed their piano for a harp!
Of all the old-time vaude accompanists, there are still two who
are working at their trade and doing great. Ray Walker (writer of
"Good Night, Nurse" and other songs), who played for Sophie
Tucker, Mae West, and Marie Fenton when they first started, and
who has played everything from the Chatham Club in New York's
Chinatown to vaude and then to night clubs, now at the age of
seventy is still accompanying the future greats in the plush cafes
ACCOMPANIED BY . . . 329
of Florida. The other is Ted Shapiro, rounding out over a quarter
of a century with the indestructible Sophie Tucker.
They were a great bunch who helped many an act to get over,
playing on vaude pianos, some of which were tuned, and what
would us guys have done when we went out after the show at night
for fun if we hadn't been "accompanied by . . ." the boys who
furnished the "mood music"? SEZ
Your pdr
LEFTY
THESE WERE
THE KINGS,
RULERS, AND
CZARS OF
THE NOW-
FORGOTTEN
KINGDOM OF
THE TWO- AND
THREE-A-DAY
Pastor
Antonio (Tony) Pastor, known as the godfather of vaudeville,
was born on Greenwich Street, New York City, on May 28, 1832.
Some claim he wasn't Italian but was of New England stock on
his mother's side and had a Spanish father who was supposed to
have been a great violinist. Nobody ever really knew and Tony
Pastor never spoke about it.
We do know that his first appearance was at the age of six, at
the Dey Street Church, singing duets with C. B. Woodruff. In
1846 he joined Barnum's Museum, where he corked up and played
tambourine and was in the minstrel band. The next year he be-
came a minstrel man, then followed that by becoming an appren-
tice with John J. Nathan's Circus. It was in this circus that he
first sang comic songs. He made his debut in the arena that fall
at Welsh's National Amphitheatre in Philadelphia.
When the ringmaster, Neil Jamison, died, he was succeeded by
Tony, who became the youngest ringmaster in all of the circus biz!
He wrote an act called "Peasant's Frolic," which later became
popular under the name of "Peter Jenkins." It was a rural char-
acter acting stewed who, after a lot of cross-fire talk with the ring-
master (or some other performer) and many prat falls, finally
stripped to tights and did a riding act. (This bit was used in circuses
for many years.) He also tumbled with the acrobats and danced
^Lucy Long" in the minstrel show. (All circuses had minstrel
shows in those days.) In 1851 he was at the Bowery Amphitheatre
at 37 Bowery, where he was ringmaster and also acted in dramatic
skits for the first time. In 1857 he became a clown at the Nixon
Palace Gardens in New York.
In 1860 he made his variety stage debut at Frank River's
Melodeon in Philadelphia, and decided to quit the circus and
adopt variety as a permanent profession. Back in New York, he
was a comic vocalist at the Broadway Music Hall (formerly Wal-
333
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 334
lack's Theatre, OB Broadway near Broome Street) when It was
first opened on March 22, 1861. Tony stayed there for a year. He
then went to his own place at 444 Broadway and stayed until
1865. It was a honky-tonk, offering beer, wine, liquor, and a few
hostesses. The only name the place had was 444! In 1865 he and an
old minstrel man by the name of Sam Sharpley took over Volk's
Garden at 201 Bowery. They fixed it up and named it Pastor's
Opera House, and successfully managed it for ten years.
At that time the East Side of New York was the popular resi-
dential section and more purely American than any section in the
city. The door plates of the old Knickerbocker families were on
thousands of homes. Pastor invited the women to come in to see
his variety show. Up to this time variety had played to strictly stag
audiences and some of the gals who came in "to rest their feet"; it
was pretty hard to get nice women and children to see Pastor's
show.
Tony tried coaxing 'em in by giving out bonbons, dolls, and
flowers, and set Fridays apart as Ladies' Night, when husbands
brought their wives and young men their sweethearts free of charge.
This didn't get over so good, so he tried more material arguments,
giving away bags of flour, packages of coffee, tons of coal, hams,
and even sewing machines, but this didn't get the gals either. But
when he announced that on a certain day he would give away
twenty-five silk dresses— he got 'em! Macy's on a bargain day wasn't
in it! You could always reach a woman with a dress (of course you
could do pretty good with a mink coat, too) . The next thing Pastor
gave away was bonnets; with the aid of some milliners he dis-
played twenty-five hats of the latest fashion, and it took twenty-
five cops to keep the gals in line. There was no vaudeville about
that— it was just plain variety. His business prospered. (Funny
that almost seventy-five years later other showmen thought of the
same idea, when they ran Country Store Nights, Bank Nights,
Dish Nights, etc., and radio and TV weren't far behind with their
Break the Bank, Winner Take All, and even once gave away an
announcer for a week end. New stuff, eh?)
It was at this time that Pastor got the idea of organizing a
variety road show while his house was closed for the summer. He
started out at Paterson, New Jersey (his first trip as a manager),
with Tony Pastor's Own Company. There were other traveling
companies at the time, but Pastor had a real fine variety show with
TONY PASTOR 335
plenty of comedy, and it was a big success playing high-class
theaters at high prices. He increased his annual tours from three
months to six months and played every prominent town on the
map. He Erst visited New England, then extended his tours to the
West, and finally to California. While in New York he played
two weeks to big biz at Laura Keene's former house, the Olympic,
several weeks at the Grand Opera House, the Academy of Music,
and Hammerstein's Columbus Theatre in Harlem. (This later was
known as Proctor's iz5th Street.)
Having thus opened the way in getting first-class patronage, his
lead was quickly followed. John B. Haverly, one of America's
greatest showmen, established a grand variety house in Chicago,
the Adelphi; John Stetson, the Howard in Boston; Colonel Sim,
the Park Theatre in Brooklyn; and many more.
It was on October 24, 1881, that Pastor opened his Fourteenth
Street Theatre in the Tammany Hall Building. New York never
had a theater just like Pastor's. There was something about it, call
it atmosphere or whatever you want, but it was "different" than
any other theater in America from 1881 to 1906. The theater really
was opened in February, 1881, with parodies on Gilbert & Sullivan,
like "The Pie-Rats of Pen-Yan," but they didn't prove successful,
so Pastor opened in October with a straight variety show that was
as clean as a hound's tooth. The theater had a special distinction,
a lot of which was contributed by Tony himself. He was a little
man who wore boots with high heels and an opera hat, which he
would open up with a snap and put on "cockily." He did it mostly
to kinda cover up when he forgot his lyrics. He knew 1,500 songs.
( I have never heard of a singer before or since that had that large
a repertoire; Tommy Lyman is supposed to have 500 songs that he
can sing at a moment's notice.)
Tony Pastor had a very pleasant personality and loved variety
actors and show biz in general. He was the only manager who was
an honorary member of the White Rats. During all the forty years
of his managerial career, Pastor never closed an act, and that was
long before play-or-pay contracts. If a very bad act knew enough
to quit at Pastor's, they were always paid in full! Tony was a very
religions man (had a shrine backstage). He didn't pay big salaries
unless he had to, and then it was only big for him and not com-
parable to what other managers had to pay for the same acts. He
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 33®
couldn't very well compete with other managers, because his was
a tiny house with less than 300 seats.
If he liked your act, he would tell you that you could bring in
your trunk any time you wanted to, and many did when they had
an open week. They would just show up, and he would tell the boy
to put out the name in the billing and on the stage cards. (Each
act was announced by a card on an easel on the side of the stage.)
James C. Morton (Morton & Moore) started as a card boy at
Pastor's. Acts working at Pastor's didn't interfere with any other
circuit, and Tony was particularly great for giving newcomers ad-
vice, encouragement, and a chance. Pastor's in the early days was
a very important "showing spot" for a new act. All the actors,
agents and managers would be out front (the same as at the Palace
and Hammerstein's in later years). All this made it possible for
Pastor to get acts for much less than anybody else.
When B. F. Keith opened the Union Square Theatre just a few
blocks from Pastor's and charged 50 cents for a good seat in a
beautiful little theater with many headliners and top acts, Pastor
had to cut his prices from $1.00 down to 102030 cents, and he
never could raise them again. Even at those prices, biz fell off; his
old customers started to patronize the theaters uptown, but Pastor
never could raise them again. Even at those prices, biz fell off; his
Proctor, and "all those other fellers stand all that worry, running
those big chains." (He always used the expression, "Jimenety,"
when he was excited; he never cursed.)
This little gentleman who was so ambitious when a youngster
had "cooled down'7 and had no ambition for big theaters and big
dough. He was satisfied with his tiny theater and to be able to go
on once in awhile (toward the finish of Pastor's, he would only
appear when he felt like it) and sing his songs. There were only
six big vaude managers who had stage backgrounds: Martin Beck,
who gave it up early and made a fortune; F. F. Proctor, who started
as an acrobat, and also made millions; Percy Williams, who acted
and also wrote plays but not for long, and left millions; Wilmer &
Vincent, who spent about twenty years as variety artists and writers,
then went into management and made many millions; and Tony
Pastor, who made it possible for all of them to cash in with his idea
of clean vaudeville, and who died on August 28, 1908, and left less
than $6,000!
BENJAMIN FKANKLIN KEITH 337
He left more than money; lie left a good feeling in the hearts of
all the people who knew him.
There never lived, then or now, in or out of vaude, any better
liked theatrical manager than Antonio (Tony) Pastor!
Benjamin Franklin Keith
Benjamin Franklin Keith, "born in Hilkboro Bridge, New Hamp-
shire, in 1846, was said to have been originally a purser on a
steamer, getting over into the show biz through die candy conces-
sion on a circus for which E. F. Albee was the legal adjuster or
"fixer." Laying over in Boston one winter (about 1883), he (in
partnership with Colonel Austin) exhibited a prematurely born
Negro baby, perhaps the first of the incubator baby shows, though
there was no incubator available for the puny infant When the
child grew too large to appeal to the curious, Keith suggested to
his partner, George H. Bacheller, that they fit up the store into a
dime museum. The venture was immediately successful, for the
dime museum was then in its heyday of popularity.
The layout of the museums was always tie same; a curio hall
in which the crowd gathered for the next show, and a theater,
where an hour's performance was given. There was magic in the
name of "museum," for the very religious customers salved their
consciences by pretending that it was really the museum they came
to, and the theater, "that abode of the devil/' was merely inci-
dental. Barnum had found that out years before, and the Boston
Museum, eventually to become the home of classical drama, was
already in the field, giving full-length plays (including one that
has been running for the last sixteen years in California, The
Drunkard)* The plays did two shows a day. Keith favored vaude-
ville with a show running an hour.
Keith found that many persons would ask at the box office when
the next show started and, on being told that there would be a
These Were the Kings and Rulers . . . 338
wait of half an hour or more, would turn away, unwilling to spend
the waiting time In the dreary curio hall. One Sunday morning he
took space in the Boston papers to advertise the continuous per-
formance. "Come when you please; stay as long as you like." The
idea was so revolutionary that even his stage manager and lecturer,
Sam K. Hodgdon, could not grasp the idea. Keith told him to go
ahead and he would show him how it worked.
Hodgdon opened the show with a brief lecture on some relics
brought back by the Greeley Relief Expedition from the Arctic,
When the first show was over, Keith told Hodgdon to go on again
without clearing the house. Hodgdon protested that most of the
people who had just seen him would walk out "I hope they do/*
was Keith's reply, and Hodgdon got the idea. This made Sam K.
Hodgdon the first "chaser" act in the business. Of course Barnum
had a pretty good idea of how to get rid of many customers (many
years before Keith) by putting up a sign reading "This way to the
Egress"— many of his customers thought it was some kind of an
animal and, walking through the door, found themselves out on
the street,
Keith's idea worked well except on holidays, when the crowd had
plenty of time and could stick around. It took a pretty strong guy
to stand two hours of the sort of show Keith put on in those days,
although he used a fair grade of acts, one of the most popular
being Jerry & Helen Cohan (father and mother of Josephine and
George ML). With growing prosperity, Keith elaborated his show
and put on a comic opera troupe, handled by Milton Aborn (^ho
was the leader in tabloid opera). The productions were mostly of
Gilbert & Sullivan works, which were in public domain (no copy-
right laws then). The idea clicked, but not as well as it should
have, and Keith flashed an appeal to his old friend Albee to come
and see what he could do. Albee cleaned up the front of the house
(which had cages full of smelly animals) and business picked up.
It picked up so well that Albee decided to try out his idea of a
de luxe theater. Keith shied away (being pretty close with a buck) .
Albee proposed building nothing short of a palace, and Keith could
not see where the money was coming from.
Always the dominant personality, Albee moved in on Keith,
took the reins out of his hands, and arranged to build, mostly with
money borrowed from the wealthy Catholic Diocese of Boston.
To get this dough he had to assure the churchmen that the per-
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN KEITH 339
formance would be clean and unobjectionable, Keith's Colonial,
Boston, was opened in 1893. It was Albee7 rather than Keith, who
carried cleanliness to an almost fanatical degree. Profanity and
vulgarity were rigidly censored. It was reported that a well-known
elocutionist, playing there, was ordered to cut from a Shakesperean
selection the phrase, "And straight from the month of hell let
loose the dogs of war/* She was told to substitute "hades/7 though
she protested that she had read the lines, without protest, at hun-
dreds of church events. It might be good enough for the churches,
but Keith's was Keith's and Hell was Hell and never the twain
should meet! (Or at least, not until many years later.)
To insure supervision, the superintendent of one of the leading
Sunday schools in Boston was hired to stand at the rear of the
house, and any minor infraction resulted in a note being sent back-
stage to the act and the stage manager. Church people approved,
and the idea was plenty profitable until the era of nudity brought
about an almost complete reversal of form.
The Keith idea was extended to Providence, to Philadelphia, and
eventually to New York, when Keith took over the Union Square
Theatre, which up to then was the home of the legit stage.
For a long time the out-of-town houses were no match for the
sumptuous and beautiful Boston Theatre, but as Albee became
more firmly entrenched in the saddle, he went upon an orgy of
building, the Chestnut Street Theatre in Philadelphia being the
second. And it was here that Keith and Albee met one of their few
defeats. The old Bijou on Eighth Street was managed by a relative
of Albee's, a fussy old guy whose chief complaint was that he
could not train the people from Camden to use the aisle in making
their exits from the gallery. They went over the backs of the seats,
to his great distress. He had no drag with the newspapermen. But
his assistant, Harry Jordan, was tremendously popular. Keith was
having trouble with his building permit for the Chestnut Street
house, and he propositioned Jordan to grease the wheels, in re-
turn for which he was to be made the house manager.
Jordan did a great job, but as the house neared completion, Keith
told him regretfully that he was too young to be entrusted with so
important a theater. Jordan said nothing, but in a week: or two a
law was introduced in the Pennsylvania legislature that all theaters
not yet opened must have a lobby width equal to that of the rear
of the auditorium. This would mean no license for the Keith house,
These Were the Kings and Rulers . , . 340
which had but a single frontage on Chestnut Street, and no chance
to bay on either side. Jordan was called in again, the law was
pigeonholed, and Jordan moved in as manager.
Keith and Albee respected Jordan because he had licked them.
They never had reason to regret his appointment. He stayed there
until the inish of the two-a-day and became the best-liked manager
on the circuit by the actors who played for him. He had a great
idea to stop arguments about the star dressing room by naming
them after states. There was no star dressing room at Keith's
Chestnut Street, in Philadelphia. (It was also the first vaude theater
in America that had the stage manager dressed in evening clothes
—long done in England.)
Keith was a little man, both in stature and mentality. He had a
curiously cold and colorless personality and he was petty in little
things. He had no use for the people he could not buy and small
use for them when he bought them. Epes W. Sargent (Chicot),
the famous critic on Variety, refused a $100 bill offered to him by
Keith and completely lost Keith's approval. If he could not be
"tipped/7 he was to be feared!
For years Keith hated F. F. Proctor, who had beat him into New
York with continuous vaude. When the booking office was in the
process of formation, Keith insisted that the meetings were to be
held in Boston* The deal was practically set up when some of the
managers insisted that F. F. Proctor be included. Keith refused,
but eventually gave in, and Proctor was invited to come to Boston.
Proctor said no, and it took a couple of more days to get Keith to
consent to go to New York. Later, when the company was formed,
Keith suggested to a newspaperman that he dictate his story in the
Keith apartment, so he might supply any missing details. The
invitation was accepted (the man was Chicot) and all went well
until the writer dictated, "At this point, adjournment was taken
to New York, to include F. F. Proctor in the negotiations." Keith
was on his feet in an instant Two hours later, this compromise line
was agreed on; "At this point, Mr. Keith having business in New
York, adjournment was had to that city and F. F. Proctor was
invited to sit in with the others." Keith's face had been saved,
though everybody in show biz knew that Proctor had forced the
change.
When the first Mrs. Keith (Maiy Catherine Branley) died in
1910, she left $500 each to four Catholic institutions and the rest
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN KEITH 34*
of her estate went to her son Paul. (She was a very devout Catholic,
and contributed a lot to charity when she was alive.) In the early
days when B, F. started^ she ran the "boardinghouse for the actors
working at the museum and theater. After her death B. F. gave his
son two million bucks before marrying the daughter of P. B. Chase
(owner of the Chase Theatre, Washington, D. C.). He suffered a
nervous breakdown on his honeymoon traveling aronnd the world
in his yacht. He was never quite himself again and gladly turned
over control of the organization to Albee (who had it anyway);
the old gent was willing to take the credit, but took no active part.
Eventually nobody paid any attention to the boss, Keith. Any
order he gave required an O.K, from Albee — and B. F. gave few
orders, being content to "play" manager of the little Bijou, his
original Boston house.
He died shortly after his second marriage, cruising on his yacht
in Florida waters. His death caused scarcely a ripple in vaudeville,,
because he had become a nonenity. He left the bulk of his property
to his son Paul and Albee long before his death to get away from
the inheritance tax. His estimated fortune was from eight to ten
millions. His second wife, Ethel Chase Keith, got a prenuptial
settlement of half a million!
Besides the dough, he left the name of Keith, which was known
all over the world, but it was just a name, because he cut but a
small figure in the actual development of vaudeville. The only
thing he could lay claim to as an originator and contributor to
vaude was the continuous performance idea.
In the last years of vaudeville, when they got away from the
clean, refined, wholesome entertainment that had made the name
of Keith famous (although it was Pastor who really started it)
and allowed profanity, nudity, and dirty gags to sneak in, even the
great name of Keith was forgotten!
These Were the Kings and Rulers . . .
From an "outside" ticket man and a "fixer" with a circus to be-
ing the czar of all vaudeville! That's what happened to a b"d
born in Machias, Maine, in 1857, by the name of Edward Frank-
lin Albee! His work with circuses gave him the shrewdness and the
motto, "Never give a sucker an even break/' which carried him
through as top man in a fantastic era of show biz!
Meeting B. F. Keith, who was a candy butcher with one of the
circuses that Albee was a "fixer" with, was his springboard to being
top man some day. When Keith opened his little museum in
Boston, he called on Albee when he was in a jam or needed show-
manship advice. When Keith became partners with Mr. George
Bacheller, it was on condition that he meet Bacheller' s bankroll of
$10,000. Keith called Albee7 who came to Boston with the circus
bankroll, matched Bacheller's money, and a couple of days later
got his money back. The venture was a success with Bachellefs
money alone!
The story became authentic with the next move, for which
Albee is the authority. Keith and Bacheller split. (Bacheller went
to Providence, Rhode Island, where he owned and managed the
Westminster Theatre for many years.) Keith continued in Boston,
and when the museum was petering out, he called on Albee again.
Albee made another trip to Boston. Coming down Washington
Street on a hot day he came to the Bijou, an upstairs house to
which Keith had moved. In the narrow lobby was a cage containing
a number of animals, a couple of raccoons, a monkey, and a few
more smelly citizens of the forest, which Keith regarded as a busi-
ness attractor, but which Albee no liked, Keith was offering Gilbert
& Sullivan and other nonroyalty-paying musicals. Albee figured the
class of women patrons to whom the bills most strongly appealed
would be kept away by the smelly menagerie. So he took the ani-
mals out and redecorated the lobby with gay-colored fans and
Japanese umbrellas. Business jumped away tip — and Albee moved
ml
Eventually he sold the timid Keith the idea of building a real
EDWARD FRAN KLIN ALBEE 343
theater. The adjoining property could be bought cheaply, but
Albee's ideas were far from cheap. He wanted a theater as mag-
nificent as the Tabor Grand in Denver. That was the most mag-
nificent theater in the country at that time. They could swing the
land deal Much of the construction money came from the Catholic
Church. There was method in Albee's financial scheme. Boston
was a strongly Catholic town. The Diocese was rich. If their money
was invested in a theater of the sort Albee outlined, the church
would get behind the enterprise, not only to encourage clean shows,
but to get its money back. The Protestant angle was taken care of
by the engagement of the superintendent of one of the fashionable
Sunday schools; he was a sort of reception committee and floor
manager, who also listened for any blue material pulled on stage.
Had Boston boasted a larger Jewish population, it is certain that
Albee would have worked a rabbi into the scheme of things.
With a really beautiful theater presenting smart and clean vaude
and miniature operas staged by Milton Aborn, the Keith Colonial
got away to a runaway start and its fame spread throughout the
country. To have visited Boston without having gone to Keith's was
like coming to New York and not seeing Broadway! The customers
were taken on tour and the cellar was as spic and span as the
auditorium. It was Albee's idea to spread an $89 red rug in front
of the white-washed coal bin! It was a sensation and was talked
about more than the show. The locals were steady in their patron-
age. Keith was on the crest of the wave, and Albee was making
the waves. Other houses were soon opened, in Philadelphia next,
then in New York.
When Albee moved over to New York, he still retained his office
in Boston. Although he was practically the head of the circuit, he
was to all but a few insiders just a name. He never was a good
mixer, but he made an effort to impress and one of his appeals was
his stories of the old circus days. He had a raft of them, and one
of his favorites was the one about the efforts of a Texas sheriff to
put a lien on the show. He boarded the train at the first stop this
side of the Texas line, intending to serve his papers as soon as they
reached Texas soil. On the excuse that the privilege car was too
crowded, Albee coaxed the sheriff into the baggage car, where there
was no window to look out of. With a bottle and a line of chatter
he kept the law man occupied until a train hand gave "the office"
that they had crossed the Texas Panhandle and were now in Indian
These Were the Kings and Rulers . . . u*
Territory (now OHalioma) . So they stopped the train and dumped
the sheriff on the right of way between stations.
As the job grew, Albee grew into an appreciation of the im-
portance of his position. His circus stories became fewer and fewer
and even the mention of the tents was taboo. Albee wanted to
forget those days, for now he was not only the general manager of
the expanding Keith Circuit, but also head of the United Booking
Office. He was in a new and higher social set-and wanted to forget
the circus.
In those days he was an odd mixture of shrewdness and un-
sophistication, and was like a boy when someone suggested he go
one evening to see the show at Sam T. Jack's (a burly house) . In
Boston he did not dare to be seen in the Old Howard, and on
the road he had no time for burly shows. I will let Epes Sargent
tell you what happened.
"Sitting too long over dinner, we did not reach the theater until
after curtain time, and as we climbed the steps of what had been
the Princess Theatre (next to the Fifth Avenue) the strains of a
gospel hymn came down the stair well and Albee stopped in his
tracks. It's a damn poor idea of a joke/ he reproved. (He thought
he was being steered into a gospel meeting.) But a moment later
the tune changed and he recognized 'Old Jim's Christmas Hymn/
into which was worked 'Jesus, Lover of My Soul/ He enjoyed the
performance, which was an absolute novelty to the man who con-
trolled a large slice of show biz, and two of the olio acts owe their
getting out of burly into vaude on the Keith Time to this visit.
One of the acts was Fonte-Boni Bros., the other escapes my
memory." Epes Sargent was with him that night and told me about
it years later.
In Boston, Albee's hobby had been driving, for he had a New
Englander's love for good horseflesh, and his mare, Hilltop, was a
beautiful animal. He brought her to New York, but soon had to
give up his early morning drives and use his big automobile. It
was one of the prices he paid for his big position in the show
world.
Always with a mind to profits, he promoted the Boston Fadettes,
a woman's orchestra under direction of Caroline B. Nichols. He
booked them into all of the affiliated houses, taking his cut- on the
salary. He also toured a sort of fair or carnival staged in Boston
and which was made an annual event for several years, but only
EDWARD FRANKLIN ALBEE 345
in the Keith houses. Later Martin Beck imported the Hungarian
Boys7 Band, under Schilzonyi, and this gave Albee the idea for the
Keith's Boys' Band, formed in part of employees of the New York
houses. It was not used as an attraction,, but was loaned as an
advertisement. It disappeared when the retrenchment era set in.
The night that the formation of the United Booking Office was
finished and announced, Albee declared that a new era had ar-
rived. For several years the actors had been upping their salaries,
often without changing their acts, and it galled the man from
Machias that he could do nothing about it. Now the whip was
suddenly placed in his hands, and he rejoiced 1
"Those damned actors have been sticking it into me for many
years/' he declared. "Now I'm going to stick it into them — and
harder!" He tried it, but Percy Williams proved a stumbling block.
It was useless to ask an act to take $350 if Williams would pay
them $500! Eventually Keith bought Williams out at a sum said
to be around six millions, then they started cutting acts' salaries,
and they were drastic cuts. They could now do it, for the Keith
Time, with the exception of a few weeks booked by William
Morris, was the only opening in the East and Midwest- On the
Coast Pantages was making trouble, but playing small-salaried
acts. Vaudevillians had to take what the booking office offered or
do the best they could with a few pick-up dates, mostly at even
smaller money.
It was reported around Broadway among show folks at one time
that this price cutting had reached such a scientific point that
private detectives investigated new acts the office wanted. The
investigators reported what the actor paid for rent and food and
what he needed to support maybe a couple of children. With that
info at hand, the booking office could offer a figure slightly higher,
but still much less than it would have probably set without this
information. The story may have been a lie, because it was never
definitely proven, but certainly the offers made showed an uncanny
knowledge of just how much money an act needed to live on.
(They claim this procedure has been followed in Hollywood; when
finding that an actor is stuck with a big home, swimming pool,
debts, etc., they know they can offer him a cut.)
Even standard acts were cut and sliced until at one time Variety
reported that 1,200 turns were booking only from week to week,
not willing to commit themselves for a season at the figures offered.
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 34$
The office may not have gotten back all the dough paid Percy
Williams for his circuit, but it was certainly able to write off a
large slice of the investment. Albee was "sticking it in" to a fare-
thee-well, and was aided by his fellow managers, all of whom re-
sented the growing costs of bills.
It put Albee in a great spot, and for a time he rode high in the
saddle. But someone slipped a burr under the saddle. John J.
Murdock was the burr. He was still smarting from the deal Albee
worked on the Western Vaudeville Association. Murdock sensed
Albee's weakness. Albee was giving more time and thought to the
building of new theaters than to the entertainment which was
gonna pay off the contractor's bills. He was enjoying an orgy of
planning theaters, buying oil paintings, antiques, and decorations
for them, and forgetting vaudeville.
With the death of B. F. Keith and later A. Paul Keith, Albee
was able to discard the fiction that he was acting for Keith. From
a hired hand he became a dictator, and became drunk with a sense
of power. He formed a company union of actors, and bankrupted
the White Rats. (See my chapter about the White Rats and the
N.V.A.)
Albee certainly had built the finest theaters in the world for
vaudeville! Beautiful lobbies with oil paintings that cost thousands
of dollars, rugs that cost more thousands, dressing rooms with
bath that compared to the finest hotel suites, and he even fur-
nished large turkish towels to the actors. A green room that any
millionaire's home could boast of. The Albee in Brooklyn, the
Palace in Cleveland, and the Memorial in Boston— they were
cathedrals! As a showman he was proving himself one of the best
architects in the country. This down-East Yankee had a genius for
color and decoration that would be the last thing you'd expect
from him. His taste leaned too strongly to marble, red drapes, etc.
(the old circus influence) but he had plenty of ideas. He designed
the "mushroom" system of theater ventilation, which later was
adopted by the engineers for both houses of Congress in Wash-
ington. He improved on the old idea of passing air through an ice
chamber, developing the idea of present-day air-conditioning sys-
tems. He dotted the Eastern country with theatrical monuments
to his architectural skill, but many of the houses proved costly to
the circuit and helped a lot in pushing vaudeville down the hill.
If he had remained the great showman (which he undoubtedly
EDWARB FRANKLIN ALBEE 347
was) instead of becoming an architect, there still might have been
good vaude, or at least it might have lasted a bit longer.
While speaking about Albee's building ideas, I must tell you
another story my friend Epes Sargent told me. It was after Keith
had built Keith's Colonial Theatre that Sargent dropped in to see
J. Austin Fynes, who was F. F. Proctor's general manager (and
who didn't like Albee at all). Fynes said to Sargent, "I hear you
are go:ng up to Boston to see the new Keith Theatre. Well, you'll
find Ed Albee one of the best sanitary engineers in the country"
(he didn't say sanitary engineers) . Next day Albee took Sargent for
an inspection tour of the only de luxe house in the country. "The
house is not ready as yet," said Albee. "Suppose we look over the
sanitary arrangements?" They were magnificent, and J. Austin
Fynes1 words came back to him!
A year later when Sargent went to interview Mr. Keith, the old
man suggested they drive out to Marblehead where he (really
Albee) was reconstructing a summer home he had bought. All
along the road there were cottages being redone, but Sargent
pointed ahead to a place and said, "That's yours." Keith said, "I
didn't know you knew this country." Sargent didn't, but he saw
three crated toilet-fixtures on the lawn and knew Albee must have
ordered them!
In his later years Albee did many nice things. He contributed
and raised a lot of dough for Bishop Manning to build St. John's
Cathedral. He left about $100,000 to the Actors' Fund and a few
bequests to English actors' organizations. He didn't leave very
much to the American actors, because they broke his heart (like
he did theirs).
There is no doubt that E. F. Albee took variety out of the
kennels and placed vaudeville in the palaces he constructed, but
he never seemed to realize that it was vaudeville itself that was
more important than the theaters which housed it. The beautiful
houses did a lot to dignify vaude, but beautiful theaters can't
entertain.
Edward Franklin Albee tried to make vaudeville a one-man busi-
ness, and he was not a big enough man to run it. After all, vaude-
ville meant variety— even in managers!
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 348
J. If iirdock
John J. Murdock, the last survivor of the great pioneers of the
kingdom of Vaudeville, died on December 8, 1948, at the St. Erne
Sanitarium in Los Angeles, California. He was eighty-five years old.
The life of John J. Murdock is the history of American vaude-
ville. No leader of the industry was so conspicuous in the organizing
and developing of variety as Murdock, As a promoter of chains,
builder of theaters, and arbitrator of warring factions in labor and
management, his hand was always that of the quiet dealer, his
brain the one that hatched the better ideas, yet his name seldom
was seen in print. He said to reporters, "Fll give you the story, but
keep me out of this." He was content to manipulate the strings
backstage and let E. F. Albee take all the- bows. (Like Albee did
with Keith.)
Murdock, a man of Scottish drive and business sense, started in
the late '905 as a stage electrician. He soon owned a stock company
in Cincinnati. Coming to Chicago he made the Masonic Temple
Roof an outstanding vaudeville theater. His competitors at that
time were Charles C. Kohl and his partners George Castle and
George Middleton, who ran the Chicago Opera House, the
Olympic, and the Haymarket. Kohl and Middleton had been
buddies with the Barnum show and controlled the dime museums
and cheap variety in Chicago, Milwaukee, and St. Louis. Castle did
the booking for the Haymarket and Chicago Opera House.
Castle's idea of a headliner was far from MurdocFs, who circused
"Little Elsie" (Janis) and promoted a wild story that he paid the
Four Cohans $5,000 for their farewell appearance in vaudeville.
Murdock liked music and saw that his patrons got the best the
market could afford at that time. When he ran short of class acts,
he created them, as in the case of Grace Akis, "The Girl with the
Auburn Hair/' who later became Mrs. Murdock. She posed with
drapes before a group of choir boys who sang semireligious and
seasonable songs. She was one of the first of the living picture acts,
and became a headliner.
About the turn of the century, Kohl, Castle, Middleton, and
JOHN J. MURDOCK 349
Martin Beck made their offices in the old Ashland Block at the
corner of Clark and Randolph streets over the old Olympic. They
brought in Murdock, who developed the Western Vaudeville Man-
agers Association. Murdock picked up Jake Stenard and several
other independent booking offices and in a short time was servicing
twenty amusement parks with outdoor attractions, bands, and free
shows. This was followed by the first million-dollar theater, the
Majestic, Chicago. Built by the Lehman estate, owners of the Fair
department store, it opened on January i, 1906. Murdock promoted
this beautiful vaudeville house, which was also a twenty-two-story
office building. It was a far cry from the old dime museum! It was
the job of Murdock to obtain attractions which would draw the
Chicago elite to variety shows.
He brought in Lyman B. Glover to "front" for the place. Glover
had been Richard Mansfield's manager and was dean of the dra-
matic critics covering the theater for the old Herald. Murdock, who
started as a stagehand at the old Pike Opera House in Cincinnati,
was doing all right for the museum boys and plenty good for him-
self.
Martin Beck7 who at one time booked Chicago beer gardens,
graduated to general manager of the Orpheum Circuit. All of the
office staff was moved to the Majestic building in 1906 and a family
department was established. This brought in the baby Gus Sun
Circuit (which later developed into more than 1,000 houses), the
Butterfield Circuit, and the John Hopkins Louisville Theatre and
Parks. The houses in Cincinnati and Indianapolis were controlled
by Max Anderson, the Cox-Rinock people, and the Inter-State
Circuit in Texas. Later the Finn & Heiman Circuit and the Thielan
Time were added. The Middle West gave plenty of work to actors
then. Murdock did a "Branch Rickey" with his farm circuits in
order to develop big-time talent. Many famous names first played
the Western Time as beginners, then graduated to the Orpheum
Circuit, and eventually played the New York Palace!
Coming East to join Albee, who placed a trust in him that others
considered unwarranted, Murdock was feared and was taken into
the fold to eliminate him. His associates soon learned that he was
the one man who could assemble theaters and make vaude pay off
in millions. He was cagey, hesitant, and it was almost impossible
to get a definite answer out of him. He would sit cross-legged and
pull out a desk drawer containing knickknacks. He always had a
These Were the Kings and Rulers . . . 350
bottle of Kumyess (goafs milk) and a large hunk of honey on his
desk. While you were trying to make your point, he would take a
sip of Kumyess and a bit of honey, take a piece of film oot of the
drawer, hold it up to the light, inspect it, ask how you liked a cer-
tain shot, and then he would snip off a piece of film with the scissors.
One of Murdochs greatest weaknesses was his "chair cooling"
idea. He seldom made an appointment, but when he did, he kept it
promptly. He always made callers sit a long time or come back.
At one time a prospective builder of a theater down South called
on Murdock to declare him in on his proposition for a franchise.
He arrived only to find Murdock at a meeting. It was the custom at
the time to call a boy and take a prospective partner into the dress
circle of the Majestic Theatre to see the show and be impressed
by MurdocFs organization. From the reception room on the third
floor the callers were taken down a long narrow hall, led past the
executive office, through the large directors' room, into the dress
circle, and then asked to wait. Some could have read Anthony
Adverse before being called into Murdock.
Once Murdock and Marcus Heiman (who at one time was head
of the Orpheum Circuit) made a date to meet the top people from
Universal Pics to discuss a ten-million-dollar deal. When they got
to the meeting they had lunch. After lunch Murdock said, "Gentle-
men, I left my glasses at home; I also left my notes at home and
without them I am lost, so let's call this meeting off until tomor-
row/' When Marcus Heiman asked him later what the idea was of
calling a meeting and then calling it off, Murdock replied, "I felt
tired after lunch, and I was afraid I couldn't think fast enough for
those fellows— so I postponed it."
Once he sent for one of his managers. The man arrived at the
Palace in New York. J. J. was notified and sent word to the man to
come back to his office after lunch. He returned and was told that
J. J. was at a meeting. He came back at 4:30 and was told that
Murdock was gone for the day. So he called early next morning.
When J. J. arrived he said, "I asked you to see me yesterday, where
were you?" The manager replied., "I just got here." Murdock saw
him the next day.
Most of Murdochs deals brought houses into the Eastern and
Western Circuits on contracts calling for his firm to operate on a
50-50 basis. He did the hiring and firing, but, most important,
JOHN J . MURDO CK
351
booked and charged for various services which go with the supply-
ing of attractions. Millions rolled in as a result.
As a diplomat, he never was too one-sided. He was friendly with
his superior's (Albee's) worst competitors and enemies. When
Variety was barred in the United Booking Offices by Albee, Mur-
dock was caught reading it. He was asked, "What's the idea of not
only having but reading Variety when Albee's orders are to bar it?"
"Why, this is Albee's copy! I took it off his desk!" said Murdock.
On Saturday afternoons J. J. loved to browse around old furniture
stores, antique shops, and quaint holes. One day on his way home
to Westchester he dropped into the Alhambra Theatre at iz6th
Street and Seventh Avenue. Across the street from the stage door
he spied a secondhand furniture store and decided he wanted cer-
tain pieces he saw there. He called Harry Bailey, the manager of
the theater, gave him the list, believing Bailey could make a better
deal, and departed. Bailey, in turn thinking that his prop man
could do even better, sent him over to price the stuff. To the man-
ager's surprise and to Murdock's chagrin, the prop man learned
that most of the pieces were sold to the dealer by Murdock's
brother-in-law, who had taken them from one of Murdock's old
farm buildings!
Murdock had a marvelous sense of loyalty to his employees.
"Tink" Humphries was a favorite, as was Billy Jackson. He did not
go for everyone, but if he became intimate with someone it was
because he was certain of him and was not afraid of his judgment.
Should an employee make a mistake, Murdock would fix it, move
the man around, but very seldom fired him. He was a true and
tricky friend. He did object to any of his managers having interests
in other theater projects. When he discovered this "disloyalty,"
out went the manager. Many boys in his organization were raised
from a pup by J. }. He liked giving kids a break and some of his
boys developed into well-known showmen and hookers.
Before coming East with Albee, Murdock lost out with the West-
ern bunch. He played around in the pic industry and was active in
breaking the motion pictures' Patent Trust with Carl Laemmle.
He was once managing director of the American Talking Pictures
Company, and was thrown out by Edison, who took it over and
changed the name to the Edison Kinetophone Co. That was back
in 1913.
He fought labor and won and broke many a strike by stagehands,
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 352
musicians, picture operators, and actors. In 1926 the musicians and
stagehands were going to strike in Frisco. Murdock got them ajid
the managers on the phone from New York and spoke for five and a
half consecutive hours and averted the strike. The bill— $2,157.80—
was split between labor and management.
Time after time Murdock advised Albee to enter the picture
business, but Albee didn't listen. He also tried to interest the East-
ern managers, but they too failed to listen, while Fox, Loew, and
Moss did and made millions.
In 1926 }. J. was told by his doctor he had cancer. He thought
honey was a good cure for it to build a lining for his stomach, and
he became a fanatic on the subject. He studied bees and raised his
own honey on his Mamaroneck farm. He backed doctors in trying
to find a cure for cancer. Their theory was to perfect serum from
blooded horses, and J, J. went for over $800,000 buying blooded
horses to bleed, etc. He gave millions for cancer research and was
very angry when this became known. But he outlived all his doctors I
When J. J. Murdock came to New York, he had about $100,000
in cash. He started with Keith at a salary of $6,000 a year. (He set
the salary himself, with a proviso that his commissions be raised
if he increased earnings for Keith. His salary stayed at $6,000 until
the day he retired, but his commissions ran into millions. At one
time he was rated at eight million.) Besides adjusting labor trou-
bles for the circuit, he made deals for the construction of all
theaters, trades, mergers. He also directed all agents, which alone
was a five-million-dollar-a-year business.
Sime Silverman, the publisher of Variety, took many a punch at
Murdock. He asked B. F. Keith to investigate the activities of Albee
and Murdock, he printed cartoons against Murdock, and still
Murdock became one of Sime's greatest friends. It can be told now
that it was Murdock who tipped off Sime to all of Albee' s moves.
Murdock was hard in business, but soft inside. He was an iron man
who never looked back, a terrific showman who had definite likes
and dislikes. He helped many an actor and hurt many more. He
okayed the booking of stool pigeons who reported by letter almost
daily the backstage gossip, a practice which led to the blacklisting
of many of the acts.
He was never a theater owner while with Keith's. He stuck to
Keith's, saw it become the Keith-Albee Circuit, and finally the
Radio-Keith-Orpheum. He arranged for the purchase of Path6 Pic-
PERCY G. WILLIAMS 353
tares and became board chairman of Path6 before he retired in
1929. After his retirement he was property poor. All his money was
tied up in real estate back East. In his last years he saw very few
people except his old friend Colonel Levy of Louisville, who spent
his winters in California.
With the passing of J. J. Murdock, there also passed an era in
show biz.
Percy G. Williams
Like most really big showmen, Percy G. Williams cared little or
nothing for self-popularity. He was in the business of selling shows
on their merits and he felt that the glamor of his name meant little
to the man that was seeking amusement. As a result, the number
one showman of the golden era of vaudeville is less known than
the lesser lights with bigger bumps of egotism. To Williams, show-
manship was procuring the best possible programs and selling them
to the greatest possible advantage. He excelled in both these things.
Seated in a crowd, Williams would never have been picked out
as a leader or as a showman. He had a retiring modest personality
and was soft-spoken. Slightly under average height, he did not stand
out. He was well informed and very seldom used "I" in his conver-
sation. He seldom bragged about what he had accomplished, unless
it had a humorous angle. He gave personal attention to all booking
matters and saw that each act contributed to the general effect of a
good show. He wore "quiet" clothes and, instead of the regular
manager's diamond ring, he wore an Egyptian scarab. He never
bragged about the money he accumulated, but one time when he
was giving bond for a friend taking out letters of administration,
he was asked what security he had to offer. He drew from his
pocket a list of some twenty or thirty properties. "Take any one you
like," he said. "None of them is mortgaged!"
Born in Baltimore, Maryland, in 1859, he was brought to Brook-
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 354
lyn, New York, when a very young Icld. He started his career in the
'Scs as an actor in a cheap touring combination. He got the idea
of a liver pad, bag, or belt, which was a red flannel contraption
stuffed with aromatic herbs (originally made up by his dad, who
was a doctor). The argument was that, worn about the body, it
would permit the pores to absorb the medicament in the herbs.
In later years he improved on the liver pad; he had an electric rheu-
matism belt. He would send a man ahead to pick out the most
rheumatic man or woman in town and ask them to wear the belt.
"No money, no obligations, you have nothing to lose and every-
thing to gain if it cures you/' In a few days Williams would come
along with his show. He did a "high pitch" (from a wagon) . After
a few specialty acts of blackface, banjo playing, dancing, and a few
jokes, Williams would make his spiel and ask the man or woman
to step up. The townspeople would be surprised to see the cripple
actually walking for the first time in years. They knew it was no fake
because the man or woman was a solid citizen. Williams would sell
the belts like hot cakes. Of course, the gimmick was that there was
such a terrific battery charge in the belt it would make a dead man
move. Still, they cured a lot of people who thought they had
rheumatism!
Williams had noted that medicine fakers working a high pitch
(from a carriage or wagon) used banjo or other instruments to
attract a crowd. He bettered the idea by forming a small show and
playing in a tent. He headed his own troupe, selling the belts be-
tween the acts, but the idea proved so successful that he put some-
one else in to take his place and opened a headquarters from which
he organized and sent out other troupes, some of them on his own,
but mostly in partnership with some enterprising showman. He
was said to have sixty companies out at one time in the United
States and Canada, and some of these outfits brought in as much
as $20,000 net profit on the season.
When the country was properly supplied with belts, and the
Indian Sagwa Troupes started to cut into his takings, he let the mat-
ter drop. He soon tied up with Thomas Adams, Jr. (then the
Tutti-Frutti Chewing Gum king), and invested in a project on
Jamaica Bay— three hundred acres of swampland. They intended to
build it up as a real estate development, but the mosquitoes were
so thick that whisk brooms hung beside most screen doors to brush
off the pests before entering the house. But Williams took a page
PERCY G. WILLIAMS 355
from his medicine show experience and started a small amusement
venture known as Bergen Beach. This consisted of a boardwalk, a
casino, a bathing pool, a dozen small buildings for sideshows, and
an open amphitheater on the edge of the bay with a stage on the
water on which he gave performances of Pinafore. (It took almost
fifty years for them to copy this one, which they are now doing all
over the country.)
At one time he thought he'd boost business by staging an under-
water explosion of a charge of dynamite, but this was dropped on
demand of the Federal authorities when the first blast practically
covered the bay with stunned and dead fish, After that he concen-
trated on the Casino (later called it the Trocadero), where he
presented light musical comedies, most of them written by himself.
It was pleasant enough entertainment, after a ride in the cool of
the evening on the Flatbush Avenue trolley, the last half of the
journey being made through practically open country. It is all
built up now, including the beach itself. Many of the original
investors in lots were actors; and none of them failed to make a
good profit on his investment,
One season Williams brought up from the South the first show-
boat to enter metropolitan waters in a couple of generations. He
moored it in the bay, but never figured any use for it, so resold it
and it went back down South. Had he thought of it, he might have
written that chapter of amusements which started nearly a genera-
tion later with kidding performances of The Drunkard, but maybe
In 1900 they would have taken it seriously.
To show his sense of humor, I must tell you about the time one
of those chronic "pass chasers" came to his table in the pavilion
and asked for a pass to the show. Williams told him he was sorrjr
that the Casino was sold out. "Well, give me a pass for something,
anything," said the grafter. Williams gravely wrote out something
on a slip of paper and handed it to him. "Pass bearer to fish in
Jamaica Bay," read the grafter. "Where do I get the boat?" "You
hire one," explained Williams.* "That's just a pass to fishl"
In the winter Williams ran a small show on the East Side in
New York in what had been known as Zip's Casino, a third-rate
beer garden. In 1897 he took over the old Brooklyn Music Hall
(Gotham), then took over the Novelty on Driggs Avenue, in
Williamsburg. He had the acts play bath houses, taking them from
one house to the other in carriages and tallyhos, which received
These Were the Kings and Riders ... 3SS
plenty of publicity. (First time "doubling" was ever done. Many
years later small towns exchanged acts, and the Big Time "doubled'7
acts when there was a shortage.)
These theaters were so successful he decided to tackle downtown
Brooklyn and bought a plot at Fulton Street and Rockwell Place.
It was in 1901 that, with Otto Huber Brewing interest and Adams,
the chewing-gum king, Williams built the Orpheum Theatre. Hyde
and Behman had a monopoly of the theater business in Brooklyn,
largely through a political pull. They made desperate efforts to
prevent a building permit being issued for the new venture, but it
didn't work. Williams, Adams? and Huber also knew politics and
pulled the right strings, so the Orpheum opened on time and Hyde
and Behman cut their prices at their Adams Street house to half a
buck. Williams started the Orpheum with the first ten rows at a
dollar top, but was forced to move the dollar section back five
more rows. People asked for dollar seats and, when told there were
no more, turned away. They didn't want the 75 cents ones, but
would gladly pay a dollar for the same seats. It was a dollar crowd
and they wanted dollar seats.
The Orpheum became one of the greatest subscription houses
in America. Families had their reservations for years and years.
There were three houses of this type, the Majestic in Chicago, the
Orpheum in San Francisco, and the Orpheum in Brooklyn. They
could tell you their gross weeks ahead. Many of these subscriptions
were handed down to sons and daughters as an inheritance. That's
how important vaude was in those days.
Percy Williams presented the best programs he could get and
was willing to pay the price to get what he wanted. He was known
as the father of big salaries in vaude. If the Keith office was stalling
an act in the hope of getting them more cheaply, Williams would
come through with the dough the act wanted, and get it first. That
established their salary, which Keith had to pay later. On one
occasion he got a chance to put in the then popular Kilties7 Band.
It was a sensational booking and became more of a sensation when
Williams threw out the first half of the bill already engaged (and
paid them) and played his headliners for the first half of the show.
It never had been done before. "It will cost you a lot of money," a
friend told him. "Mebbe so/' agreed Williams, "but it will pay in
the long run. I expect the Kilties to bring in hundreds of people
who never before saw a vaudeville show. I want them to see what
PERCY G. WILLIAMS 357
my usual shows are like, so I put the headlines in the first half;
they'll like it, and will come back for more after the band is gone.
I'll get my money back." And he did. (Martin Beck booked Sarah
Bernhardt on the same idea.) Actors played to the same audience
at the Orpheum week after week and year in and year out. It was a
gold mine! Besides being one of the greatest audiences of vaude
fans in America!
The success of the Orpheum led to Williams taking the Circle
Theatre, on jgth Street and Columbus Circle, his first New York
theater, and then the Colonial,, which was originally built by
Thompson and Dundy (the famous builders of the New York
Hippodrome later) to be run on the lines of an English Music
Hall. They didn't know that kind of business (they were really
carnival and circus people) and were glad to drop it. Williams took
it over and put it on its financial feet. Then he built the Alhambra,
at Seventh Avenue and iz6th Street. Harlem had not felt the
Negro invasion and was able to play to a class audience for many
years.
With four theaters going big, he built the Greenpoint in Brook-
lyn in 1908, the first real theater for that section, then that same
year took the Crescent Theatre and moved it 600 feet from its
original location on Fulton Street. (It was the first big-building
moving job.) He built the Bronx Opera House and ran vaude in
Boston and Philadelphia in opposition to Keith, because they
wouldn't let him in the United Booking Office. But he now became
a thorn in the side of the ILB.O. (practically Keith's). They were
about to close in on him when the Comedy Club, an organization
of the great comedy acts of vaude, promised to stick to Williams.
(They wanted an opposition circuit.) Keith couldn't buck that, so
got him in and finally bought him out for about six million bucks.
Williams was ready to quit; he had made a fortune and already was
feeling the effects of the cirrhosis of the liver which eventually
carried him off.
It was the talk of the town that the Keith people got the pur-
chase price back in a few years through salary cuts, but I don't
believe that's true, because six million bucks is a lot of bucks to get
back; but the Keith people did pretty good.
Under the Keith operation the shows were cheapened and so
were the standards. Within a year after the sale it became necessary
to put special officers in the balcony and gallery of the Colonial
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 358
Theatre to keep the patrons from becoming too demonstrative.
The famous Colonial claque caused plenty of trouble (even In the
days of Williams); when they didn't care for an act the entire
gallery would clap their hands in unison. It was equal to a Bronx
cheer, only louder. The class patronage Williams gathered soon
scrammed. But I must say that even Williams was afraid of the
Colonial gallery. When he booked Bransby Williams, who did
delightful impersonations of Dickens* characters, and was what was
called a "quiet act," he shut down the gallery with a sign "Under
repairs," to save trouble for Bransby Williams. It meant a loss of a
lot of dough, but Williams was that kind of a guy. Anyway, the
Colonial gallery got more unruly under the Keith management,
and so the house lost its class patronage. They wanted the best
(without annoyance), and the Keith's best wasn't good enough.
It wasn't generally known that Williams took a flyer in melo-
dramas written by himself. He openly sponsored only one, Tracy,
the Outlaw, based on a sensational escape and recapture of a West-
ern convict. This had dramatic angles, and showed what a showman
Williams was. He was out West at the time and wired his office
that he had bought the bloodhounds employed in tracking Tracy
and would use them in a play based on the escape. What he
brought back were a couple of "torn dogs": great Danes which
were always used in performances of Uncle Tom's Cabin because
they looked fiercer and more dramatic than bloodhounds. He later
confessed that he picked up the pair for little dough from a stranded
"torn show" and that this gave him the idea for the play. Before
he wrote the script, he was sitting in the Orpheum one night with
William Morris. Vitagraph, who supplied his houses with motion
pictures, threw on the screen a French picture showing a sledge-
hammer battle between two men in a blacksmith shop. Williams
turned to Morris and said, "Keep your eye on that film, Bill; Fm
going to want it in August." When August came he set his actors
in front of the screen, ran the picture over and over until they
had memorized every move, and "the fight in the forge" was the
big noise in his show. Just quick thinking.
Before "chain management/1 where managers are practically
office boys, most theaters reflected the personality of the manager.
The Williams houses were friendly, comfortable, and without any
such snobbish pretense as many theaters put on today. For a long
time the Colonial had a patron who came in two and three times
MARTIN BECK 35S
a week and never saw a full show. He bought an admission ticket*
went straight to the lounge, and sat there reading his paper. He
explained it was more cheerful than his bachelor apartment and
more comfortable than his club. That was the keynote of Williams'
success. He made people want to come. That was showmanship.
}. J. Maloney7 who started with Williams as a bookkeeper, be-
came his confidential secretary and remained with him throughout
the years. Williams was the Exalted Ruler of the Brooklyn Elks
(he was one of the first sixty members of that lodge). In 1905 he
was pinched for giving Sunday shows; he took it into the courts
and a year later took it to the Supreme Court and won from the
city.
When Percy Williams died in 1923, he left his beautiful estate in
Islip, Long Island (and the money for its upkeep), as a home for
aged actors (the only manager in the world to do this). In his will
he appointed members of his beloved Lambs as trustees with
trustees of the Actors' Fund to see that the actors have everything
they wish for, because, as he said before he died, 4Tt was the actors
who helped me make all my money, and I want them to enjoy it."
Percy G. Williams died a gentleman of the theater very much
mourned, loved, and respected by both actors and laymen. Could
you ask for anything more?
HI aE»fin Beck
Almost everybody likes to say, "I knew him when . . ." Especially
actors. And nearly all the old-time vaude actors like to say, "Why,
I knew Martin Beck when he was a waiter!" They tell you this and
expect you to fall over in surprise. So what? He never denied it.
I know a waiter that once was a headliner!
The truth is that Martin Beck came to the United States when
he was about sixteen, as a member of a small troupe of German
actors. They first played in South America and then came to the
Were the Kings md Rulers ... 3&3
U.S. W. Passpart (who later became the European representative
of the Orpheum Circuit) and Charles Feleky (who became the
bead of the Orpheum Producing department) were also members
of this troupe. There are no records of how good or bad an actor
Martin Beck was, but we do know the troupe didn't do so well
and broke up. Beck and Feleky went from door to door selling
crayon pictures and took any odd job to keep from starving.
Soon Beck landed a job as a waiter at the Royal Music Hall on
North Clark Street, Chicago, for $12 a week (and tips). That was
the year of the World's Fair in Chicago, 1893. With his knowledge
of the show biz he soon was helping around as manager, stage
manager, cashier, auditor, barman, and waiter for which he was
raised to $20 a week. The Royal was next to Engel's, the best-
known concert hall in the city. After a year at the Royal, Beck went
to Engel's and remained there for two years. He became a partner
and opened another place on the South Side. He would make the
trip from one house to the other on a bicycle (to save expenses) to
make change, pay off the help and check the receipts. He was doing
pretty good when the crash came and ended Beck's career as a
concert hall waiter, bookkeeper, manager, cashier, etc. He took his
apron off and joined the Schiller Vaudeville Company on a trip
to the West!
While playing in San Francisco he met Gustave Walters, who
owned the Orpheum Theatre, a saloom concert hall there. He also
owned one in Sacramento. Walters broke up the Schiller Vaude-
ville Company, using two acts for his houses, and offered Beck a
job as manager and booker. Walters was strictly a saloon man and
knew very little about variety shows. He also owed a $50,000 liquor
bill to two gentlemen by the name of Morris Meyerfeld and his
partner Dan Mitchell. He couldn't pay the bill, so the two gentle-
men took the place over. They knew even less about show biz than
Walters, so it wasn't long before Beck took over and soon was
promoting a new Orpheum with Martin Lehman7 who owned a
theater in Los Angeles, and they made Charles E. Bray the secre-
tary. Beck, Lehman, and Bray were all good showmen, but Beck
also was a cute real estate operator and picked the sites for the
many theaters the Orpheum started promoting. He was said to
have had 10 per cent interest in the circuit at that time. All the
theaters were promoted with local capital, which made the towns-
people interested in the theaters. They were all fine, clean, well-
MARTIN BECK 3S1
appointed theaters, running clean shows, and were a credit to the
towns.
When the Orpheum Circuit only had three theaters out in Cali-
fornia, they had to play an act three weeks in each house and pay
the act's fares and excess baggage, because very few acts wanted to
make that long jump for a few weeks' work.
It was through Martin Beck that the Orpheuin Circuit joined
the great Middle West vaude powers, Kohl & Castle, in Chicago,
and started the Western Vaudeville Association. They controlled
all the vaude bookings in the Middle West. Before the organization
of the W.V.M.A., the managers would book through the powerful
United Booking Office in New York, where the Orpheum repre-
sentative was Robert D. Girard. About 1905 Mr. Meyerfeld started
to relax and practically turned over the running of the Orpheum
Circuit (now a very big organization) to Beck. He came East and
opened up his office in the St. James Building, where the mighty
United Booking Office had their headquarters, and Mr. Beck soon
got in with Albee and the rest of the tycoons of vaudeville.
Beck was a pretty gruff man in business; he liked things done
his way. He could even outfox Albee, which took plenty of foxingi
But he gave everybody a square shake. He was an easy touch, liked
nice things, and was loyal to his friends. He spoke about five lan-
guages and was a well-traveled and intelligent man, also a very
stubborn one. When his office was at 609 Ashland Block in Chicago
and he was booking Kansas City (that was about 1899), Mont-
gomery & Stone asked $250 to play there. Beck told their agent,
"Not as long as I live will I ever pay Montgomery & Stone $250 a
week in Kansas City." (He never did.) He had an uncanny mem-
ory, could tell what he paid actors years ago, and could quote parts
of their acts. I heard him tell a certain big-time agent on Broadway,
"I will never buy an act from you until you pay me back the $1 5
I loaned you twenty years ago when you were a hoofer, to get you
out of town." The agent looked surprised and apologetically said,
"Oh, Mr. Beck, I forgot all about it." Beck said, "I didn't!" He
got the money and slipped it to a beggar.
While I was in his office one day talking to him about making aa
Orpheum tour, his secretary came in and told him that a certain
act he wanted to see was in the office. "Send 'em in," said Beck.
It was a foreign acrobatic act, two men and a woman. He asked
them if they had signed their contracts? They said yes. "Do you
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 362
know for how much?" "Yes, for $175 a week." Beck glared at them
and yelled, "How the hell are you three going to live on $175 a
week, with all that railroad fare you have to pay?" "The best we
can do, Mr, Beck." "Do you realize what hotels and meals cost?"
The acrobats were panicky. "We do the best we can, we really
need the work." Beck still glaring, tore up the contracts and said,
"I can't have my actors living like bums and dressing like tramps.
When you are hungry you can't work properly. I must have actors
that work good for me." By now the act was almost in tears. Then
Beck said, "Tell the girl to make out new contracts for $350!"
That's the kind of a guy Beck was, scare you to death, then do
something nice. He didn't like anything cheap, and he liked class.
Beck was the man who really put class into vaude. He would
pay big salaries to fine concert musicians and ballet dancers (he
first booked the Albertina Rasch Dancers) . He didn't care if those
kinds of acts went over with the audience (many of them were
away over the heads of the vaude patrons of that time) . When they
would flop, Beck would shake his head and say, "They got to be
educated." (Meaning the audience.) I asked him why he booked
that type act, when the majority of people didn't like it. He re-
plied, "Listen, in a vaudeville show everybody on the bill can't wear
red noses, baggy pants, and take prat falls. A bill must have variety,
change of pace, and have something that appeals to everyone. You
know, there are a lot of people like goad music. If one man out
there liked that fine violinist, I've made a customer!" His booking
of Sarah Bernhardt for $7,000 a week (highest salary ever paid up
to that time in vaude) proved his point. She did a terrific business
for him when she first opened in Chicago and of course put the
Palace on the map.
E. F. Albee was always afraid of the ambitious Beck, and through
agreements and threats he kept the Orpheum Circuit west of Chi-
cago, and the U.B.O. stayed East, But Mr. Beck felt he was too big
to be confined to a certain territory and wanted to get in New
York. He bought a plot of ground and built the Palace. He had
strong financial backing from a very wealthy Westerner, who re-
mained in the background. The building of the Palace caused a
panic among the Eastern vaude managers, especially E. F, Albee.
Hammers tein showed his U.B.O. franchise, giving him all vaude
rights to the territory from Forty-second Street to Columbus Circle,
MARTIN BECK 363
which meant that Beck couldn't get any acts from the U.B.CX
(which had all the great standard acts). His backer got cold feet
and didn't go through with the deal, so Beck had to do business
with Albee. When the smoke cleared, Albee had the Palace, so
eliminating a threat of opposition, Beck retained 25 per cent of
the stock, and the booking of the Palace went through his office.
Albee had to pay Hammerstein's 8200,000 (he was offered a big
block of stock, but Willie Hammerstein took the cash, saying the
Palace wouldn't last two years, it was too far uptown). He wasn't
the only one who has made bad predictions. Didn't we see master
showmen say that pictures wouldn't last, that talkies were just a
passing novelty, radio was a toy, and TV a gadget?
Here is a story about Beck signing up Sarah Bernhardt that has
never been told. He went to Paris to get Mme. Bernhardt, and she
signed willingly; he didn't have to hold a gun to her head or break
her arm when he offered her $7,000 a week. When Beck got back to
his hotel, he became very nervous and started to pace the floor.
His wife asked him what was the matter? "I forgot to tell her that
she had to work on Sundays in America." AH night he pictured
how she would explode her temperament all over the place when
he told her about Sundays, how she would tear up the contract,
etc. etc. It was a sleepless and very nervous Martin Beck who called
on Mme. Bernhardt the next morning and tried to break the news
to her gently. Instead of flaring up, Bernhardt patted him on the
cheek and said, "Why, don't worry. I have no other place to go on
Sundays, the theater is my church and home. Fll be happy working
there on Sunday!"
Martin Beck was the first to give out fine booklet programs in-
stead of the one small sheet that all theaters used. He was also the
first to build a mortgage-free theater; he owned every brick of his
Martin Beck Theatre on West Forty-fifth Street. He was also one
of the first to build a theater "off Broadway." West of Eighth
Avenue was practically out of town. He opened his theater with
Mme. Pompadour, which he produced with Charles Dillingham
with Wilda Bennett in the lead. It first opened out of town with
Hope Hampton (the beautiful wife of the late Jules Brulatour,
who got a commission on every foot of film sold in America) .
Beck canceled her and replaced her with Wilda Bennett, and had
to pay Hope Hampton too. He spent a fortune on the production,
These Were the Kings and Riders ... 364
and it was a magnificent flop. I asked him once why he did it? He
shrugged his shoulders and said, "It was beautiful. Bad, but
beautiful!"
In later years when vaude was going on the rocks he again took
charge, but it was too late for a doctor; not even a specialist could
help it. He then became advisor to RKO (Very few people knew
this.) He had a peculiar assignment. When the Radio City Music
Hall was being built, his job was to keep his eye on Roxy, who was
spending a lot of money; everything he saw that he felt would
make the theater better he would buy, and even the Rockefellers
couldn't stand his mad spending of the RKO dough. Once in
Paris he was shown a beautiful organ. Roxy immediately ordered a
half a dozen, which ran into quite a large sum. After Beck talked
to him, he cut the order down to four!
There are many stories about Martin Beck told among actors,
one especially which was repeated time and time again whenever
actors were reminiscing. I was surprised one day when Beck asked
me, '"Did you ever hear the funniest story told about me?" I im-
mediately thought of the story that I'd heard for years, but didn't
dare say anything about it to him. So you can imagine my surprise
when I said no, and he went right into the story that I was thinking
of.
"A fellow I didn't book, because he had a very bad act, swore he
would get even with me some day. Years later, when he still had a
bad act, he blamed me that I was keeping him from bookings,
which I never did. Anyway, one day he got a broken-down horse
and wagon, drove up in front of the Palace Theatre just before
matinee time, when there was a big crowd of agents, actors, and
bookers, and started backing up the wagon, while he yelled to the
horse, "Beck, you bastard, Beck, you S.O.B., etc/' It got a big laugh
from the show people, and you want to know something? when I
heard about it, I laughed too. I only wish he was as funny on the
stage. Maybe he should have worked with a horse?" So Beck did
have a sense of humor!
He died leaving his charming wife Louise to take care of his many
theatrical interests. She in her own right rates high in show biz as
a prominent and tireless worker with the Theatre Wing and all
theatrical charities.
Actors told a lot of gags about Martin Beck, "but they liked him;
PROCTOR
365
they knew there wasn't a vaude circuit in the world that gave them
fairer treatment than the Orpheum Circuit. And the Oipheum
Circuit reflected its head— Martin Beck!
F. F* Proctor
Frederick Freeman Proctor was born in 1852 at Dexter, Maine.
He left school at an early age on account of the death of his father.
He worked for awhile in the R. H. White's Dry Goods Store, in
Boston, as an errand boy. Being fond of athletics, he joined the
Y.M.C A While practicing there, he was seen by a performer by
the name of Levantine, who was using the gym at the time, and
soon joined him in an acrobatic and juggling act. They juggled
barrels with their feet. He later worked in a circus and variety
shows with different partners. He finally did a single and made a
successful European tour under the name of his first partner,
Levantine. He stayed in vaudeville for a few years and then decided
the other end of the business was where he belonged.
In 1880 he opened his own theater, the Green Theatre, in Albany,
New York, His partner was H. Jacobs. They soon split and Proctor
became his own boss and stayed that way until many years later,
when he hooked up with B. F, Keith, and eventually broke away
from him. He named his first theater Levantine's Novelty Theater.
From 1880 to 1889 he and Jacobs opened theaters in Rochester,
Utica, Brooklyn (Novelty and Criterion), Boston, Buffalo, Syracuse,
Troy, New Haven, Bridgeport, Hartford, Lancaster, Worcester,
Lynn, Wilmington, and finally in 1889 opened Proctor's Twenty-
third Street, New York. He started continuous performances in
New York City, a copy of the Boston policy of Keith, who at that
time couldn't find a good theater in New York. Proctor's advertis-
ing read, "After breakfast go to Proctor's— After Proctor's, go to
bed." He formed a sort of a partnership with Charles Frohman
and ran the noted Frohman Stock Company.
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 36S
When Jacobs and Proctor were partners, their theaters dotted the
middle section of New York State. Many people credit Jacobs with
being the originator of the 10-20-30 school of amusement. In real-
ity it merely followed a popular lead, but he made it his own in a
way through advertising. It was the year Graver Cleveland had
been elected the first Democratic president in years, and manufac-
turing leaders feared the effects of his free-trade policies. Even
before he was inaugurated there was a healthy panic which was
reflected in the theater, and all over the country managers were
finding it necessary to cut their prices of admission from 50 to 75
cents top to a 3O~cent orchestra seat with perhaps a row or two of
four-bit seats to kinda save face. Jacobs didn't want to save face.
He made a virtue out of necessity, and the Proctor and Jacobs
theater ads bragged about the 10-20-30 price, and the figures were
lighted up on their house fronts. It caught on, and for a time the
firm made plenty dough. Eventually, however, the circuit grew
too large to handle intelligently and broke of its own weight.
Both partners came to New York, and Jacobs became manager
of the Third Avenue Theatre, while Proctor took the out-of-the-
way house on West Twenty-third Street, between Sixth and
Seventh avenues. The house played a few melodramatic hits
like The Lost Paradise and The Long Strike, but it was too far
from Broadway to draw any transient trade. It was then that Proc-
tor decided to try Keith's idea of continuous performances, which
had not as yet been introduced to New York. Keith couldn't get a
spot, so it was virgin territory for that policy.
Profiting by the lesson learned from Jacobs, Proctor decided to
sloganize the town with thousands of one-sheets, snipes, and news-
paper ads, all shouting "After Breakfast Go to Proctor's." This
caught on and got the house off to a good start. In Boston, Keith
and Albee were frothing at the mouth. (Keith never really forgave
him for it)
It was a couple of years before Keith took over the Union Square
Theatre, which was the home of English melodrama. Keith cut
down Proctor's lead in the town through giving better showsy
particularly on the so-called "supper show." That was a show given
from 5.30 to 7.30 P.M. The headliners did not appear at this show;
they only did two a day, while the supper show acts did three.
Proctor loaded this section of the bill with serio-comics who would
work cheaply. Keith varied his programs more and set the rule that
P. F. PROCTOR
367
$35 single and $50 double was the least to be paid for this type of
act. It cut down the Proctor's distance draw, but there were enough
locals to still show a profit for Proctor.
Proctor made enough money from the theater to start his second
venture, the Pleasure Palace, at Fifty-eighth Street and Third
Avenue. This was looked on as the start of a new type of show biz,
a sort of department store of amusements. There was an auditorium
seating better than 2,500 with a roof garden and a rathskeller. The
rear stage wall was an asbestos curtain and it was planned to raise
this and let the patrons of the beer garden enjoy the same show.
The idea never clicked, because the acts didn't know which audi-
ence to face. (So the "theater in the round" is new, eh?)
They finally walled up the passageway from the rathskeller to the
billiard and pool room in the basement of the beer garden, and
the Palm Garden was rented out for dances and weddings. The
roof garden never clicked, running only for a couple of seasons,
and the rathskeller was a total loss. Instead of going downstairs
after the show, the few who were thirsty and looking for fun went
across the street to the Terrace Garden. The rathskeller too was
closed and the whole ambitious idea put an awful crimp in the
Proctor bankroll for a time. Some years later the house was gutted
and changed to a fine theater, with only one balcony, and the
former Palm Garden space added to its capacity, and still later it
was again changed to the modern theater it is now.
Proctor added the Columbia Theatre, the first house built in
Harlem by Oscar Hammerstein, and renamed it Proctor's 12 5th
Street. He later took over the Harlem Opera House, also built by
Hammerstein, and then got the Fifth Avenue Theatre at Broadway
and Twenty-eighth Street, which, like the Union Square, had been
left behind in the uptown march. He kept the Albany house for a
time and also built the first Proctor's in Newark,
These extra spots that Proctor opened were burning Keith and
Albee, who as yet hadn't started their expansion program. Keith
had been using a four-leaf clover for a design, sort of emblematical
of his four theaters. Proctor used a series of linked wreaths, sort of
suggesting the Keith emblem, but larger!
When E. F. Albee went gunning for complete control of the
Keith enterprises, J. Austin Fynes, who had managed and "made"
the Union Square, slipped out from under and went with Proctor
as his general manager. He never could make Proctor spend as
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 368
much for talent as Keith was doing, but he made a decided im-
provement in the Proctor enterprises.
When the first White Rats strike (1900) disorganized the vaude
biz, Fynes put stock companies in the houses, with Hugh Ford
(later a great pic director) as general producer, and the theaters
began booming. The isjth Street Theatre was a gold mine, with
Paul McAllister and Jessie Bonstelle as headlines. William J. Kelly
became a terrific matinee idol there later.
R F. Proctor married Georgena Mills, whose stage name was
Georgie Lingard, (Lingard, her uncle, owned the Bowery Theatre
and played the original part of Uncle Tom at the Bowery Theatre
in 1866.) She was a soubrette and rope dancer. They started for
the St. Louis Fair by auto. He was ditched near Pittsburgh and
broke his legs, and was taken to Pittsburgh for hospitalization.
During his convalescence Proctor started to pal around with Harry
Davis. To Proctor nothing of his own seemed as good as the other
fellow's, and he grew discontented. He thought the Davis stock
company was much better than his and wrote Fynes demanding a.
stock company "like the one here." Hugh Ford showed Fynes
applications from nearly every member of the Davis Stock Com-
pany asking for a job in his stock company, and told Fynes why
he didn't hire them. Ford was the number one stock producer of
the day and knew his biz, but couldn't satisfy Proctor and got out.
Proctor then wanted to know why he couldn't get as good vaude-
ville acts as Davis was showing in Pittsburgh. Instead of telling
him it was because he would not pay the money, Davis told him
that he did not book through Jules Ruby (Proctor's booker), who
was getting gray trying to chisel five and ten dollars off actor's
salaries to get within the Proctor limit. Ruby quit too. And when
Proctor eame back, he made things so tough for Fynes that he quit
even before his contract ran out.
Fynes knew that the lease on the Fifth Avenue was about to
expire, and tipped Keith off, with the result that Keith leased the
house over the head of the unsuspecting Proctor. This eventually
led to the formation of the Keith & Proctor Company, with the
Proctor houses thrown into pics. Some years later when the com-
pany was dissolved (through a lot of litigation), Fynes told Epes
Sargent (who in turn told me) that he testified in Proctor's behalf
through sheer pity. He expected Proctor to be trimmed. He wanted
him to be, but he did not expect the complete scragging Proctor
F. F. PROCTOR
got. It was largely through Fynes* testimony that Keith had to give
Proctor back his houses and some of the profits.
Then began a new era for Proctor. His biz manager, George
Wallen, a very smart cookie, convinced Proctor that he had the
right idea. Instead of New York expansion, he went into the small
towns, building combined theaters and office buildings (which
New York managers are now fighting for), which gave Proctor
his auditoriums practically rent free. Instead of pointing up the
current headliner, managers were told to sell the Proctor show?
week in and week out. When there were no big headliners, the
people came anyway. The show was profitable because the office
building paid the rent. Proctor had gone into the Keith booking
office, and let Albee build the Eighty-sixth Street Theatre, the first
theater in the country to be fitted up for light housekeeping back-
stage. Wallenr as Proctor's general manager, watched the opera-
tions of every phase of the building, and when RCA bought the
Keith outfit. Proctor got plenty on his setup. He had Wallen to
thank for the fact he left a big estate.
Proctor had a colorless personality. He was in no sense an out-
stander and made few friends. He very seldom went backstage to
meet any of the acts; he always watched the front of the house and
the box-office till. Very few actors knew Mr. Proctor personally.
Toward the last he had a terrific objection to meeting new people
or even contacting those whom he had known hut had lost touch
with. It was almost a phobia.
He hated drinking men, and those who worked for him around
Proctor's Fifth Avenue (where he made his headquarters) were
afraid to be seen going into a saloon on Twenty-eighth Street. But
a scene door, connected with a scenic studio on what had been the
stage of the old theater, made it possible for the boys to slip out
on Twenty-ninth Street without a chance of being caught by the
boss. The stage doorman was tipped off and when Proctor asked
for a delinquent, he was told the man was on the stage. Then the
call boy would rush out and get the man wanted from the bar.
F. F. Proctor was the first to give his employees insurance; first
to do dramatic shows with vaude in between; first to reduce admis-
sion prices between 10 and 11 A.M., 25 cents admitting to orchestra
and balcony seats. (You thought it was practically a new idea, eh?)
He established full orchestras. He was first to recognize the value
of pics and first to play a feature in a first-class theater. He dis-
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 370
continued vaude at the Fifth Avenue in 1912 and put in a ten-reel
feature, Intolerance. He pioneered in furnishing nice dressing
rooms for actors, and was the first to share his profits with em-
ployees. He was also the first to start advertising in "box style" all
his theaters.
Essentially, Proctor was a one-man institution. He was successful
only through the efforts of others and then only when he would let
his advisor set the pace. In 1929 he sold his interests to RKO7
transferring eleven theaters for an estimated value of sixteen to
eighteen millions. Clarence Wallen and brother worked for him
for over forty years. At one time Proctor had fifty theaters!
When he died at the age of seventy-seven, on September 4, 1929,
he remembered over 300 persons in his will, and gave $100,000 to
the Actors1 Fund. He was a definite part of big- and small-time
vaude, one of the great pioneers, but was colorless.
Frederick Freeman Proctor came a long way from being an acro-
bat in a circus to being one of the top managers and theater owners
of American vaudeville!
William Morris
He was a kid who couldn't talk English and who received very little
schooling, who delivered papers before school and after supper
clerked in a grocery store. In the afternoons he carried big bags of
coal and delivered ice for just a few cents a day. To help support
the family he worked as an office boy on a cloak and suit trade
paper, and by the time he was twenty, he "was earning $15,000 a
year via commissions by soliciting ads. They were about to put his
name up as a partner, but the 1894 panic came and put the paper
out of business, and with it, William Morris.
That was the early career of the man who, born Wilhelm Moses
in Austria in 1873, later became the greatest independent show-
man of our time!
WILLIAM MORRIS 371
He always had a hankering to get into the business end of the
show "biz. To him it was a dream world with dream people., so differ-
ent from the people in the cloak and suit business he knew. After
being turned down by Mike Leavitt (a big showman at that time) ,
Bill Morris swiped one of his letterheads and wrote to George
Liman, who was the leading variety agent, telling him "confiden-
tially" that he was seeking a new connection. He got an appoint-
ment and told Mr. Liman that he had a lot of experience in the
agency business and Liman, impressed, offered him $8.00 a week.
Bill turned it down fiat and finally settled for $9.00 a week. With
the okaying of the salary, Liman gave him a list of acts and houses
and told him to "book ?em"!
Bill got the office boy to tell him about the business, talked to
actors and managers to get the lowdown (without tipping his mit
that he was a tyro), and in about a month was made general man-
ager of the oldest variety agency in New YorkI (Sounds Horatio
Algerish, doesn't it? But true.)
Morris helped the managers with his great ideas; he put single
acts together and made them into valuable doubles instead of medi-
ocre singles. He looked for novelties, he balanced his shows, and
they proved money-makers for the theaters he booked. But his
thoughts ran to big things and big money, and booking Eva
Tanguay for $55 a week, and she was closed, or booking Emma
Carus for a Sunday for three bucks, on which he received 15 cents
commission, didn't appeal to young Morris. When George Liman
died, his widow got rid of Bill, thinking she could run the business
herself. So within a month she was out of biz and Bill bought up
the office furniture for four dollars and stuck his own name on the
door, the W and M crossing, which became his trade-mark and
was used on every office door William Morris ever had. (And he
had plenty of them.)
By 1900 he was running the biggest independent agency in the
country. In 1904 he booked twenty-nine weeks and the next year
he booked the houses of Percy Williams, Proctor, Hammerstein,
Weber & Rush, Poli, Sheedy, Keeney, and many more. He taught
Willie Hammerstein showmanship while also teaching him how
to play pool. He would lay out a bill and ask Willie how he would
lay it out and how much he would pay each act? And then show
Willie where he was wrong. In 1906 he could book an act twelve
weeks in New York City without a repeat.
These Were the Kings and Rulers . , . 372
Bill was getting real big, when Albee stepped in and offered the
managers membership in the United Booking Office, which charged
commission to acts for playing their own houses, and also split that
commission with the managers of the U.B.O. It amounted to a lot
of dough and was great bait. Bill Morris was making a quarter of
a million a year on commissions; Bill didn't split commissions. So
one by one the managers, whom Morris had helped to make rich,
left him to join the U.B.O., where they could partake of this
unholy graft With nothing to book, he incorporated for $500,000
and became a manager and also a deep thom in Albee's side.
Albee hated Morris but respected his showmanship!
It was Morris who masterminded and did the booking for Klaw
& Erlanger when they decided to play Advanced Vaudeville in
opposition to Keith. What Morris didn't know was that they and
the Shuberts were only in the vaude business to get a big price
from Keith to quit. They were offered a lot of money to quit in
the first few weeks, as they were making it expensive for Keith to
get acts, because Morris was signing up acts for almost double
what they could get from Keith. K. & E. refused and held out for
more dough, which they finally got, and quit, leaving Morris high
and dry. Morris could have sued on his contract with K. & E., but
tore it up in front of Erlanger (who looked at the torn contract
to see if it wasn't a phony) . He couldn't believe anybody would do
such a thing, but he didn't know Bill Morris.
Never licked, Morris signed Harry Lauder, whom he had booked
for K. & E. for $2,500 a week and who broke all records. He gave
Lauder $3,000 a week and also paid the English managers for dates
that Lauder didn't play there for which he had contracted. (It's
play or pay in England.) He toured Lauder all over the country,
with one of the finest publicity campaigns ever given a vaudeville
performer, and broke all records on the road. With Lauder as
anchor man, Bill started his own circuit. He got the Boston Music
Hall (Keith had it, but forgot to exercise his option) . He also took
over the American Theatre on Forty-second Street and Eighth
Avenue (a dead theater at the time), where he made his head-
quarters. He had theaters in Chicago, Boston, and Brooklyn— all
profitable. The U.B.O. blacklisted every act that played for Morris,
which made it plenty tough, but he was doing great in spite of it.
The American was making $125,000 a year profit, but when the
Keith squeeze started to work, there was a dearth of new acts and
WILLIAM MORRIS 373
especially headliners. It was then that Morris started the twenty-
two act shows, and sold the public big shows instead of headliners.
It worked out great for a while, and then his great friend and right-
hand man George M. Levebritt died suddenly and Morris began
having financial troubles. Martin Beck was going to buy out the
circuit and take over the debts (which Morris insisted on) which
would have given him the foothold in the East he always wanted,
but the deal fell through. Finally Marcus Loew stepped in and took
it over. (Albee wanted to buy Morris out with the proviso that he
could never go back in the business again, to which Morris said
no.)
By now Bill was a pretty sick man, but he didn't give up. He
leased the New York Theatre Roof and put in a Coney Island idea
right on Broadway, which he called Wonderland. He had every-
thing from a carrousel to all kinds of concessions. He ran contests,
Cakewalk, etc., and gave out fabulous prizes which he got for free
from the manufacturers for just mentioning their names (a la Tony
Pastor, radio, and TV). It didn't pay off, so he gave it up and
devoted all his time to managing Harry Lauder on his many tours.
His opposition to regular vaude with his great attraction was still
bothering Albee and Beck (whose territory he often played) .
It was in 1920 that Morris broke into the Christian Science
Monitor with a theatrical ad (the first) . Their policy not to adver-
tise shows with murder or immoral topics of any sort had kept all
theatrical ads out until Morris broke the tradition with one for
the Lauder show. (The New York Hippodrome was second.)
In 1925 Morris got the idea for a home for show people stricken
with TB. It was first called Adirondack Tubercular Fund North-
wood Home, with E. F. Albee as president, Morris as V.P., and
Col. Williams as treasurer. Later Albee managed to take it over
and named it the N.V.A. Sanitarium (after his company union)
and N.V.A. funds were used for its upkeep. When vaude folded,
so did the N.V.A/S funds, and the picture people took it over,
renaming it the Will Rogers Memorial Hospital. They too gave it
up and now it is one of the favorite charities of the famous Variety
Clubs of America.
Bill Morris was also the founder of the Jewish Theatrical Guild.
He left a foundation of good will to his son William Morris, Jr.,
and his daughter Ruth, built up by the most profitable and im-
portant artists' agency in the world, handling the foremost attrac-
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 374
tions. William, Jr., has retired as the active head of the agency and
is now chairman of the board. The agency is headed by Abe Last-
fogel, who was raised from a kid by Bill Morris, ST., who taught
him show biz from A way past Z. He is considered one of the
greatest of all-round showmen in the country today. He is nearly a
William Morris, which is the highest compliment I can pay him.
On the death of William Morris (November 2, 1932; he fell over
with a heart attack while playing cards at his favorite club, the
Friars), Jack Lait (once press agent for William Morris' Lauder
attraction, an old Variety mugg and now editor of the New York
Daily Mirror), wrote an obit in Variety, part of which I would like
to quote, because he summed it all up by saying:
"William Morris towered above the personalities and signifi-
cance of most of the figures in the theatrical world. He has sounded
the depths and the ratified air above the clouds of theatredom;
he has been the general of battles that will be told for many years,
often the general of an army of one; he was beholden to no one,
was respected and beloved and carried on his inspirational life
purpose, charity, welfare, tolerance and love until he died. He cried
only for the griefs of others, for himself he only chuckled. His
conscience was clean and when his books weren't they were messy
only from wiping off the debts others owed him. A great man of
the theatre, and the world!"
That was Jack Lait's tribute to a great human being. I would like
to add a salute for myself and all the actors he helped directly and
indirectly by his independence and charity and as one of the vaude-
ville managers who didn't sell out their consciences I
Marcus Loew at the age of thirty-six was in the fur business; so
was John Jacob Astor many years before him. Astor did much
better than Loew but Marcus didn't do so bad for a kid who was
MARCUS LOEW 375
born in a windowless room on the lower East Side, at Avenue B
and Eighth Street (where he later erected a million-dollar theater).
His ambition was to be like his dad, who came to America, married
a German girl, and became a headwaiter, So to become a head-
waiter would be good enough for Marcus. As a kid Marcus did all
kinds of odd jobs to help support the family. He worked in a map-
printing shop for 35 cents a day, peddled newspapers, and did other
jobs, and finally got into the fur business as a salesman. He saved
a few bucks and bought himself an equity in an apartment house
in Harlem.
At that same time David Warfield, a great comedian with the
Weber & Field's Company, was doing big and figured it wouldn't
last long, so stuck about $50,000 in an apartment house right next
door to Loew's. Marcus went down to see Dave to tell him that he
could run his apartment house better than the way it was being
run. Warfield made him his real estate agent and it was the begin-
ning of a lifelong friendship which made them both millionaires!
Warfield made more money with Marcus Loew than he did in all
the years he spent in show biz as a star getting big money under
the management of David Belascol
One of Loew's neighbors up in Harlem was Adolph Zukor, who
was also in the fur business, and they too became pals. In 1906
Loew saw Zukor, Aaron Jones, and Morris Cohen turn a store into
a penny arcade, so they could use the penny slot machines they
were interested in. These arcades were filled with "peek machines,"
where you put in a penny, turned the crank, and saw moving pics
like "Beauty and the Beast," "In My Harem," "Her Beauty Secret,"
etc.— get the idea? You could also put a penny in a machine, put
earphones to your ears, and hear a record! Marcus joined forces
with Zukor and his partners and also got Warfield interested. The
two of them soon quit Zukor and went in for themselves and
opened their first arcade on Fourteenth Street. Mitchell Mark (who
later built the first de luxe picture theater in America, the Strand,
on Broadway) joined Loew and Warfield and in a short time they
owned four arcades.
Loew heard of an arcade in Cincinnati (the Hippodrome) that
wasn't doing so well and was for sale. He bought it and fixed it
up and soon it was doing fine, and it was really this house that put
him on the show biz road. He heard about a fellow in Covington,
across the river, who had a picture machine and who charged five
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 37S
cents to the natives to look at the pictures. Loew went over to see
it, and saw a small room with about twenty-five people watching
these pictures, with the owner explaining them, saying, "Now
watch him fall/' "Now he's going to hit him!" etc. After the show-
ing of the picture, the colored boy who cranked the machine did a
few jig steps. That's what put the "picture bug" in Marcus Loew's
ear.
He bought a pic machine and put it in a small room above the
Cincinnati Arcade and ran pictures. The first one was "Hot Chest-
nuts"; it ran about four minutes. People started to come in, eighty
seats at a nickel a throw; he did over $500 the first week. (The
first nickelodeon was run by Harry Davis in Pittsburgh, who was
jamming them in; no seats— they had to stand up.) Loew soon
came back to New York and opened his first picture show on
Twenty-third Street, which was one of the first nickelodeons in
the city. He begged Jake Lubin, who was then manager of Miner's
Eighth Avenue, to go in with Warfield and himself, but Jake
laughed about it, and gave Marcus plenty of good show advice and
even some old wiring he had in the theater, which Marcus used to
wire up his house. Some years later Jake Lubin became the head
hooker of the Loew Circuit, which position he still holds.
In six months, with Warfield as a partner, Loew had forty nickel-
odeons returning 40 per cent on the investment. It was in 1908 that
an unemployed actor was sent to him by Warfield for a job. There
was no opening for an operator, cashier, or ticket taker (that's all
the help he used in each store), so he asked the actor could he re-
cite "Gunga Din" and "The Road to Mandalay"? The actor could.
"O.K., go on between the pictures and recite," which meant about
twenty shows a day. The audience liked it, and he took the actor
around to all his places and found the box-office receipts better
with "Mandalay" and "Gunga Din" than without them, so that
was practically the beginning of vaudeville with Loew. (Years later
actors almost ruined vaudeville by reciting "Gunga Din.")
It wasn't very long before booking acts in his theaters was big
business and Joe and Nick Schenck, owners of the Palisade's
Amusement Park in New Jersey, joined the organization and Joe
became head booker, while Marcus Loew was buying up new sites
for big picture houses, where he now charged io-20-3o-cent admis-
sion and business was just terrific!
He was forced to go into the picture business, as he needed a
MARCUS LOEW 377
large supply for his many houses and there was plenty of competi-
tion. When Warfield heard about Marcus going into the pic busi-
ness, he wanted to pull out of the partnership, feeling that Marcus
was going too far, but Loew told Dave he couldn't draw out be-
cause they were life partners. Dave stuck and made an extra ten
million! In 1917 Loew controlled seventeen theaters in France and
many in Germany (under cover), besides his many theaters in
New York. The first big picture he was interested in was The Big
Parade. When he bought the picture company, he couldn't put the
name of Loew on the films because the other exhibitors refused to
advertise Loew on their screens, so the company was called Metro-
Goldwyn-Mayer, or M-G-M.
He really learned show biz when he got his first picture house at
Pearl and Willoughby streets in Brooklyn, which Lew Fields told
him he could get cheap. It was known as Watson's Cozy Corner, a
burly house that had been raided by police because of dirty shows
and had a bad name in the neighborhood. It seated 2,000. Loew
at that time was used to 2oo-seaters and this was a big proposition
for him. The first thing he did was to book an Italian company
doing Shakespeare, to get the "stink off the joint." He lost dough
for a few weeks, but when the house reopened as the Royal Theatre,
with vaude and pics, the neighborhood had forgotten about Wat-
son's Cozy Corner. He raised his price to 10 cents (up to now he
had only had nickel theaters ) . The first day's receipts was exactly
10 cents! Only one customer came in? out of curiosity. Loew had
forgotten to advertise he was going to open! The stagehands went
out on strike and started picketing the theater day and night; they
sent out letters all over the neighborhood about the strike at the
Royal, and people became curious and came in. Loew cleared
$65,000 that season.
In 1910 he opened his National Theatre in the Bronx, a beauti-
ful theater for that time. It was here that Loew got some of the
great Broadway stars, like Marie Dressier and the Dolly Sisters, to
make an appearance on Surprise Nights; some just took a bow,
some did a song or a dance, and they did it without pay just for the
love they had for Marcus Loew and Joe Schenck. Eva Tanguay
went on under the name of Dora Doone and was a riot. Loew
offered George M. Cohan $10,000 for one week: Cohan refused.
(This is the place the Bronx cheer started.)
One of his first big houses was Loew's Delancey Street, which
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 378
was in the heart of the ghetto. One summer day Loew went down
to see how things were going in his beautiful playhouse and was
horrified to see men going in without coats or ties. He told Mike,
the doorman (a big Irishman) , not to let anyone in without a coat
or tie, they weren't going to make a dump out of his new beautiful
theater. The next day the manager received a lot of complaints
about Mike; in fact, some of the patrons were ready to lynch him.
After investigation it was found that Mike was carrying out Mr.
Loew's orders a little too harshly, grabbing a patron's long beard
and lifting it up to make sure he had a tie on. The order was
rescindedl It was at this house where a monologist, while doing his
act, saw a mother nursing her baby at the breast; the kid started
to cry and the lady said, sternly, "If you don't take it, I'll give it
to the hector!"
When Loew bought out the Sullivan & Considine Circuit to
extend the Loew Circuit from coast to coast, he tried to put in his
regular policy of vaude and pics with continuous performances.
The Western people were accustomed to a matinee and two shows
at night. They liked to go home for their supper and then come to
a fresh theater. Loew believed he could educate them to his way.
He was about a million dollars wrong, and after a year of experi-
menting, he gave the theaters back to S. & C. (He was just ahead
of the times, as some years later the West was full of continuous
houses.)
E. F. Albee at first paid no attention to Loew and his circuit, but
as Loew got bigger and bigger the old man became a bit nervous,
realizing that he was already a threat to his small "family" time
and maybe if he got too ambitious he might get an idea to enter
the Big Time. Loew did play a big-time act as a feature; it didn't
bring any more money at the box office, but it was sort of a present
to the loyal audiences he had built up. The audiences liked it be-
cause it smelt of "class," but it was really the picture that counted
in those days. Orville Harold, a Metropolitan Opera tenor, was
offered booking on the Loew Circuit for $5,000 a week. He said he
would take it on condition that Mr. Loew sign his contract per-
sonally. It took Mr. Loew weeks to get around to it and when he
finally did, he asked Orville why he wanted him to sign the con-
tract personally? Orville, with a triumphant smile, said, "Because
I worked for you years ago for $40 a week and when I asked you
for $50 you wouldn't pay it, so I quit Now you're paying me
MARCUS LOEW 379
$5,000 a week!" Loew smiled and said, "Believe me7 Orville, I
would have paid you $50 if you were worth it."
Sime, the publisher of Variety, had something in that bible of
show biz that caused Marcus Loew to get very angry. (He and
Sime were great pals.) When he met Sime he told him how wrong
the article was and that he was real mad about it. Sime said, "Why
don't you take a page ad in Variety and tell your side of it?" "How
much is a page?" asked Loew. "$400," said Sime. "That mad I ain'tr
said Loew.
Marcus Loew didn't look like a showman; he looked more like
a semiprosperous furrier or tailor. He never wore any jewelry, and
although his clothes were of the best, they didn't make him look
distinguished. He was a very modest and mild-mannered man. He
treated the smallest actor like he did the biggest star, with courtesy
and kindness. Actors never had any contract trouble with the Loew
Circuit. Joe Schenck and later Jake Lubin and Marvin Schenck,
the bookers of the circuit, were square guys who followed the Loew
code: their word was their bond!
At a testimonial dinner given to him by the White Rats7 Loew
was introduced by Will Rogers as "the Henry Ford of show busi-
ness." In 1926 he was the first in show biz to receive France's
Legion of Honor decoration. He loved to play pinochle with his
cronies, and when he won he would accidentally knock over the
table and the chips would get all mixed up and nobody had to pay
off. He bought the famous Penbroke Estate at Glen Cove, Long
Island, for a million dollars (a few months later he was offered
five million for it). It was really a big castle with some forty odd
rooms. On week ends there were 100 to 150 people there, guests
of his twin sons, David and Arthur (both fine showmen) and his
wife. Marcus wouldn't know a half-dozen there, and would usu-
ally go up to his rooms with some old friends and spend the week
end playing pinochle.
Loew's early methods didn't set well with the older showmen,,
particularly his scheme of giving away thousands of free passes
through department stores, but it put his new houses on the map.
He was without a doubt the big power of the small-time show biz.
He built 150 theaters, 125 of them de luxe; he built twenty-eight
in a single year. But his State Theatre on Broadway and Forty-fifth
Street, New York, was his dream baby. When the State was in
the course of construction, he would watch every day from the
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 380
windows of his office in the Putnam Building (where the Para-
mount now stands). One day he turned to Jake Lubin and said,
"Jake, I'm going to give you 3,000 shares of stock in the company."
Jake beamed. "And/' continued Loew, "III take so much a week
out of your salary." Jake unbeamed. He beamed again years later
when he sold some of his stock for $60,000.
In spite of the State being classed small time as against the
Palace Big Time, some of the tops in vaudeville played there, in-
cluding Eva Tanguay, Jack Dempsey, and Jack Benny, who acted
as M.C. (doubling with the Little Club). Milton Berle played
the No. 3 spot and later made his first real big hit at the Palace, just
a few blocks up the street. Clayton, Jackson & Durante made their
first stage appearance there, as did nearly all of the top columnists
and bands.
Loew never drove a bargain in which the other fellow lost. He
was loyal to his employees and they in turn were loyal to him. In
the Loew organization today over 50 per cent of the personnel have
been with it thirty years or more.
Marcus Loew died in 1927, at the age of fifty-seven. A friend said
he was burned out with worrying about his friends and others who
had invested in his business. He was a sweet, kind, charitable
gentleman, who tried to give everybody a decent shake. He may
have been the king of small time, but he personally was strictly
Big Timel
It in the Family
Show business and the public today both know almost all about
Oscar Hammerstein, 2d— -that he made four million dollars on
Broadway by his lyrics and plays.
Even some of the show biz newies must know about Oscar 2d's
uncle, Arthur Hammerstein, whose musical-comedy successes of
the 19205, such as The Firefly, Naughty Marietta, High Jinks,
Rose Marie, Sometime, Blue Kitten, Song of the Flame, and
IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY 381
Golden Dctwn, are just a few that made theatrical history. And of
that era, many of voting age will also recall the beauteous and
talented Elaine Hammerstein, silent screen star, who was Arthur's
sister. As for the saga of the first Oscar Hammerstein, who came to
America from Berlin when he was about fifteen, started as a cigar
maker, and became one of the greatest impresarios of grand opera,
that is now theater lore.
It is mainly of Oscar's son and Arthur's brother and Oscar id's
father, the fantastic Willie Hammerstein, that I want to tell you,
because he was so close to vaudeville, but a reprise of the Hammer-
stein dynasty proves that genius certainly runs in the family. (Inci-
dentally, today's Williamson Music Company is a tribute by
Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein, 2d7 to their fathers, both
of whom were first-named William. But whereas the composer's
dad was formally Dr. William Rodgers, Oscar's dad was always
most informally Willie Hammerstein! )
It was through his management and great showmanship that
Hammerstein's Victoria Theatre became the greatest and most
colorful vaudeville theater in the world* In its seventeen years it
grossed twenty million and made five million profit for Hammer-
stein. (It was only a i^zjo-seater.) However, it isn't the money but
the "fun" Willie had making it that I believe will interest you.
Talent and showmanship were never rationed in the Hammer-
stein clan.
In his day, Oscar ist discovered more musical and operatic talent
than any of his contemporaries. But among the old vaude fans and
actors, he will always be remembered for building the famous
Hammerstein's Victoria Theatre and Music Hall. On the site of an
old barn, on Forty-second Street arid Seventh Avenue, he built this
"freak" house with old building materials, because of his shortage
of cash (one of the many times) . It was a combination theater and
music hall and roof garden, playing the great dramas and musical
and variety shows. Drinks were served during the performance;
the bar was never closed during all the time Hammerstein's was
open. (There were bars in only two New York theaters; the other
one was, and still is, at the Metropolitan Opera House.) The last
show at this house was on April 26, 1915, just beating Exhibition
by a couple of years.
The Victoria was Oscar's fifth plunge in theater building. His
first was the city's first theater north of Central Park, the Harlem
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 382
Opera House, built in 1889. He then built the Columbia on East
i25th Street (also known as Theatre Comique and Harlem
Theatre), which was bought in 1900 by F. F, Proctor for his con-
tinuous vaudeville and stock companies. Hammerstein built the
Manhattan Opera House, at a cost of $350,000, on Broadway and
Thirty-fourth Street (now Macy's), which opened as Koster and
BiaFs Music Hall. (Hammerstein was their partner for a short
time. Their original saloon-concert hall with the famous cork room
was on Twenty-third Street and Sixth Avenue.) In 1889 Hammer-
stein's fourth plunge was the Olympia Theatre (later called the
New York Theater) on Broadway between Forty-fourth and Forty-
fifth streets on the east side of the street. The space was originally
occupied by the yist Regiment Armory. (Times Square was known
as "Thieves' Lair." Broadway from Forty-second to Fiftieth streets
was lit by gas light and was deserted at night.) Everybody said
Oscar was crazy. The Olympia was a combined music hall, theater,
roof garden, Oriental cafe, and billiard hall, with lounging, smok-
ing, and cloak rooms, all for a 5o-cent admission. The music hall
was devoted to vaude. The opening bill had Yvette Guilbert, who
was a big hit. The building also housed the Criterion Theatre
(originally called the Lyric), where they played legit. It was on
the New York Roof that Ziegfeld first played his Follies. The open-
ing of the Olympia was the talk of the town. Oscar lost it when
the New York Life Insurance Company foreclosed on a $900,000
mortgage.
Again Oscar was broke. On June 29, 1898, the day the Olympia
was being sold, there were benefits given for him at the Garden
Theatre, Harlem Opera House, and the Columbia Theatre, which
raised about $8,000, and a few months later the first dirt was
shoveled for the Victoria. In 1900 his sixth plunge was erecting the
Belasco Theatre (west of Hammerstein's on Forty-second Street).
It was on the site of the ill-famed McGory's Dance Hall. The
Belasco was later called the Republic, playing dramas, and years
later received national publicity when Minsky's took it over for
their burlesque and strip-teaser. It is now a grind picture house.
In 1904 Oscar built the Fields Theatre, on the south side of Forty-
second Street, and leased it to Lew Fields for his stock company.
It was a duplicate of the Republic Theatre. In 1905 it was named
the Hackett, and six years later the Harris, then WallacFs, and
finally the Carroll (Earl Carroll owned it by then).
IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY 383
Hammerstein's next plunge was to build the Manhattan Opera
House on the north side of Thirty-fourth Street between Eighth
and Ninth avenues. It was originally called the Drury Lane, and
was built on the old piano factory site of Decker & Company,
which Oscar bought for $200,000. Oscar started building it in 1901,
and as the money came in he would go ahead. When Fregoli, the
great protean artist, was at the Victoria, business was very good,
and it was said he "put the roof on the Manhattan." It was at the
Manhattan that Oscar first circused grand opera, selling a ticket for
$6.00 which entitled the holder to see two operas in one day —
Elektra at the matinee and Salome in the evening. He went along
with his operas until he had a fuss with Mrs, Clarence Mackay,
who gathered her wealthy friends and walked back to the Met.
Oscar said, "She took the roof off my opera house."
In 1910 at this same opera house he inaugurated a twenty-four-
act vaude bill, the first and only three-ring vaudeville. It started
at 7:30 and lasted until midnight, and then the picture went on!
Maggie Cline, the headliner, said, "The walk across the stage from
Eighth to Ninth Avenue will be the death of me." Years later,
Frisco said about the Roxy, "Don't get caught on the Roxy stage
without bread and water." At 8:20 the eleventh act was on. Dumb
acts were shoved on three at a time. Lightning Hopper, a cartoon-
ist, Chester Johnston, a cyclist, and Edith Raymond, on the wire,
were on all at once, as was Saona with impersonations, the Jug-
gling Jewels, and Arusa, hand balancer. It was a financial failure.
When Hammerstem was trying to sell the Manhattan, Marcus
Loew came around to dicker for it. 'Til pay you $100,000 down and
$100,000 for four years. After the first year if I find I don't want the
house I'll turn the key over to you." Oscar looked at him and said,
"Mr. Loew, just around the corner is Ludwig Baumann's furniture
store. Go deal with him. I don't sell theaters on the installment
plan." So Loew left, and built the Greeley Square, at Thirtieth
Street and Sixth Avenuel
There were many stories told about Oscar when he was in opera.
The employees knew when he showed up with a slouch hat that
it meant trouble, but when he wore his high hat, everything was
O.K. He paid Mischa Elman $1,000 to play the "Meditation" from
Thais; Elman was not a member of the Musicians' Union, so
Oscar put a chair in the aisle next to the musicians for him.
In 1906, when he went to sign Melba, he couldn't get a definite
These Wer& the Kings and Rulers ... 384
answer from her. Throwing thirty $100 bills on the floor, he said,
"If you're afraid of your salary, Fll pay you in advance." "Wait,"
said Melba, "I will sing for you for nothing." In 1908 he built an
opera house in Philadelphia at Broad and Poplar streets. Melba
was supposed to open but was sick, and Tetrazzini filled in and
was a riot. He built an opera house in London and the Lexington
Opera House in New York, which opened with pictures because
by the time it was finished Hamrnerstein had sold out to the Metro-
politan Opera Company for more than two million dollars and
was forbidden to have anything to do with grand opera for twenty
years.
Oscar was a very versatile man and, contrary to popular belief,
he did not speak with an accent. He played violin and piano pretty
well. In 1893 ne made a bet w^h Gustave Kerker (director of
operas) that he could write an opera in forty-eight hours. He shut
himself in the Gilsey House (Broadway and Twenty-ninth Street)
and wrote The Koh-i-noor Diamond! Kerker refused to pay the bet,
saying it wasn't what an opera should be. Oscar produced it at
the Harlem Opera House to a gross of $400, but he had fun!
The first Mrs. Hammerstein (Rose Blau) was mother of Harry,
Arthur, William, and Abe. When she died Oscar married Malvina
Jacoby, by whom he had two daughters, Stella and Rose. He
divorced Malvina and married Mrs. Emma Swift (he was sixty-four;
she was thirty-two) in 1914, after losing three of his four sons within
a period of five months. Harry, the oldest, went to New London
with his regiment and died that night. Abe was always sickly, and
Willie went suddenly. The only son left was Arthur. When Malvina
died he paid the alimony to his two daughters.
Making money was a pastime for the elder Hammerstein; han-
dling it was a nuisance. Many is the time his son Willie had to
shove a $5.00 bill in his dad's pocket. Willie also would take the
money out of the till, because his dad would think nothing of tak-
ing it all with no accounting. He paid his bills if there was money
in the box office; if there wasn't, he would just let it go until
there was.
Truly a fantastic figure was this Oscar Hammerstein, who made
"heatrical history with a deskless office, a bookless bookkeeper, a
•eversible plug hat, a gold-headed cane, and a Van Dyke beard. He
nvented many work-saving devices for the cigar business, which
cept him in fresh money. The management of the Victoria was
IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY 385
turned over to Willie to ran as he liked and he liked to run it.
When Oscar was in the grand opera business, he would spit at the
Victoria's box office and say, "Phooey on this cheap business!"
And so this is the character of the father of Arthur and Willie,
Stella and Elaine, and the grandfather of Oscar 2d, a great show-
man!
In the twenty years that Willie Hammerstein managed the Vic-
toria, he brought more new ideas and received more newspaper
space for his attractions than any manager in our generation! He
violated all managerial traditions by coming to work at 8 A.M. and
quitting at 9:30 p.M.7 when he would go right home. He was
known by everybody on Broadway, but he never went for the night
life of the Big Street. His home was entirely separate and distinct
from his theater life. With the exception of a very few intimate
friends, he never invited anyone to his home. In his twenty years
as manager, he never saw a play at any other theater and only once
did he drop in next door at the Belasco to see part of an act of
The Girl from the Golden West. His only office was the lobby of
his theater, sitting in a crooked chair surrounded by his cronies-
actors, press agents, playwrights, managers, wine salesmen, vaude-
ville agents, bookers, gamblers, and screwballs. He loved these
characters who would gather in the lobby while the show was
going on. From them he would get the gossip and new stories of
Broadway. The admission to this inner circle was being funny or
interesting. Willie possessed a grand sense of humor and was a
great practical joker (all done with a dead pan).
Before he got to the Victoria, he opened the Imperial Gardens
with George Blumenthal (who later became a manager and pal of
Oscar's) as his partner. The beer garden was on noth Street, next
to Dietrich's. (Willie started his vaude career there.) The place
was backed by Ruppert's. Harry Piker was call boy and kept the
stage and dressing rooms clean, besides helping sling beer; he would
also go on and do a dance and a short act. Willie hired John
Rynland, the Negro superintendent at the Empire Theatre, to
press-agent the place by riding a bicycle and doing stunts; he had
a funny laugh. He'd start at Ninety-sixth Street and bring crowds
to the Imperial Gardens. He got 50 cents and all the food and beer
he could consume. The partners then took over the Criterion
Theatre, Brooklyn, to do stock. They paid $100 a week rent and
had to borrow the first hundred. They divided with the actors 5050.
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 388
You could always get "peck and pad" money from Willie. He
was a soft touch. As a youngster he was an advance agent for a
Davis & Keogh melodrama, went broke, and knew what it was to
face long summers without money on Broadway. He never re-
fused the courtesy of the house to any show people. He anticipated
a request for an Annie Oakley; he woiild size you up as you ap-
proached him and say, "Sure, step right in and grab a seat." If
you couldn't find a seat, you'd stand up with the "rail birds/7 They
were the inner circle of Hammerstein's. They would drop in and
stand back of the orchestra, see an act or two, or maybe just part
of some act they particularly enjoyed. They would make wise-
cracks for or against the acts. There were more wisecracks and
"nifties" pulled at Hammerstein's in a minute than one now hears
on Broadway in a week. The wits and their half-brothers liked to
stand behind the rail; it made them one of elite— -and show-wise!
"Characters" were attracted to Hammerstein's like Damon to
Pythias or Winchell to Runyon. There was little Jimmy Bell, a
screwy boy tenor, who would amuse the gang by standing on one
foot while singing, and for a few extra pennies he'd even shut one
eye, "to make it harder." One of the famous characters on Broad-
way in those days was Doc Steiner, a vaude agent with a thick
German accent that matched his thick eyeglasses. He not only wore
glasses, but he liked to empty them. He wasn't a funny man, but
was a great foil for Willie, whom he adored. I remember the time
when Willie and Houdini, the world's greatest escape artist, framed
the Doc. Willie one night started to argue with Houdini, in front
of the gang, that he couldn't release a man from a pair of hand-
cuffs if Willie furnished them and the man. Idea was that there
would be no collusion with Houdini and no pretampering with the
cuffs. The argument grew long and loud and finally they both put
up $100. Willie said the only man he could trust was his pal,
Doc Steiner. He sent him to the West Forty-seventh Street police
station to get a pair of handcuffs, and when he returned, he said
Doc was the only man he'd trust not to double-cross him with
Houdini. Doc was flattered. The cuffs were placed on one of Doc's
wrists and the other end was locked to the radiator pipe in the
lobby. The radiator was plenty hot! Houdini started working on
the cuffs and the more he tried to open them the madder he got.
Everything seemed to go wrong. One by one the bystanders walked
away. Finally Houdini, disgusted with his failure, also walked away.
IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY 387
Doc was left alone, handcuffed to the radiator pipe. It was hours
later that a detective walked in and released him. The Doc lost
five pounds. After a good laugh and a few drinks. Doc once again
was ready for another of Willie's practical jokes!
Another time a screwball made an application for a tryout He
told Willie that he not only could sing better than Caruso, but
louder! "How much louder?" asked Willie. "I can make my voice
carry for three blocks/' said the lamster from a nut factory. Willie
told him to go over to the Times building across the street and
sing as loud as he could, and if he heard him he would wave his
hand. The fellow walked over to the Times building, the noisiest
spot in town, and started to sing at the top of his voice for nearly
half an hour without seeing Willie wave his hand. By this time
he had a mob around him and almost got pinched for obstructing
traffic. He finally came back for a decision from Willie, who asked
him, "What's the matter, did your voice go back on you?"
His sense of humor and of the ridiculous just fit him for the
task of managing Hammerstein's. As a headline hunter he had no
equal. He inaugurated the "freak act" in vaudeville. He booked all
the prominent fighters, wrestlers, and bicycle and running cham-
pions. He played the killers and near killers. A couple of comely
girls, Lillian Graham and Ethel Conrad, shot at W. E, D. Stokes,
a socialite realtor. The bullet struck the three-initialed gentleman
in the leg and he promptly had the gals arrested. The newspapers
were filled with the accounts of the shooting, Willie went bail for
the girls and booked them for Hammerstein's, billing them as 'The
Shooting Stars." They couldn't sing, dance, or act, but jammed
the house. After seeing the act, Junie McCree (a noted wit) re-
marked, "They'll be lucky if they finish the week without some-
one taking a shot at theml"
Hammerstein also played Nan Paterson, who shot Caesar Young
in a cab, but didn't kill him. Willie paid her $500 a week. A little
lady by the name of Beulah Binford didn't kill, but a man killed
his wife for her, which she figured should make her a headliner,
but that was too raw even for Willie, so she hired the Garden
Theatre and played a maid in a sketch. There were forty-nine
people one night who showed up to see her; that was her top at-
tendance for a week at 10-20-30 prices. She gave up. Florence
Carmen, the wife of a Long Island M.D., accused of shooting at a
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 388
woman patient of her husband's through a window in her Freeport,
Long Island, home, got booked. She sang "Baby Shoes."
A freak engagement is made with the deliberate object of pro-
motion, the financial profit being secondary. People come to the
theater who have never been there, or have been there very seldom,
They see the rest of the show and like it, thus becoming a cus-
tomer. Willie made Hammerstein's an institution, and as my friend
Channing Pollock once said, he took care it wasn't an institution
for the blind. He taught the public the danger of trifling with a
young girl's affections. He booked Mae Sullivan, who won fame
by suing a certain rich man for breach of promise. Her talents
seemed limited to love and litigation. Willie once said, "The
clamor is for novelty. You can't class this house as a vaudeville
theater. Get a new name for it. The agents can't supply the de-
mand for novelty, so you must invent and furnish it yourself/'
Hammerstein's had some of the greatest press agents in the busi-
ness! Willie gave them plenty of leeway. Abe Levy, Ann Marble,
Nellie Revell, John Pollack, Joe Flynn, and Morris Gest were all
tops and could cook up many novel ideas of publicity, but Willie
was the commander in chief!
The Roof was an institution in itself. It occupied the roofs of
both the Republic (nee Belasco) Theatre and Hammerstein's. It
was originally called the Paradise Roof, and was later changed to
Hammerstein's Roof Gardens. He billed the attractions up there
as "Hytone Vaudeville." It opened in 1900 as a circus, but when
it rained there was trouble getting the animals downstairs. The
city wouldn't let Haminerstein put up the skeleton roof he wanted.
He finally did it little by little, and the city let him get away with
it. Willie had a farm up there, cows and beautiful milkmaids, a
man with a ly-foot beard, and Sober Sue, whom nobody could
make laugh. Willie offered prizes to top comedians if they could
make her laugh. There was a gimmick; the poor colored gal had
paralyzed facial muscles and, though she could laugh inwardly,
she never showed it. They had acts, music — it was a great hangout
for those who had to stay in the city in the hot summer days. The
stage was like a fight arena; acts made their entrance through the
audience. (Theater in the round?)
The Roof was enclosed in glass, and you can imagine how hot it
was after the sun had beat down on the glass all day. There was
no cooling system in those days. But Willie thought up a great
IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY 389
idea. He had the elevator that brought you up to the roof heated,
and when you got out on the roof it seemed at least 100 per cent
cooler. He tried all kinds of experiments on the roof, including
amateur nights, and special nights where all the actors playing
downstairs would play an afterpiece for fun. Aaron Kessler, who
was Willie's able assistant, put in small-time acts with pictures and
a Negro orchestra to whose music people tangoed. He booked Mile.
Polaire and billed her as the ugliest woman in the world with the
smallest waist, and business was so good he switched to $2.00 vaude-
ville with her.
Hammerstein's played a great list of attractions; the body of his
shows consisted of standard acts, then he'd play some fakes, some
real novelties. The late Morris Gest, who started as a sidewalk
ticket speculator in front of the Victoria (some said he was Willie's
private spec) and finished as one of the real great producers of
Broadway, became a scout for some of Willie's "dream acts." (He'd
dream up some fake.) Gest told me about the time Willie sent him
to Europe to dig up a Turkish attraction. At that time there was a
lot of talk about a Turkish Republic; the young Turks were on the
verge of a revolution, and the newspapers were full of it. Willie
figured anything Turkish would bring ?em in. Gest's instructions
were to get a Turk with three wives or a reasonable facsimile.
At a small variety house in Lucerne, Gest saw an artist who did
quick oil sketches. His name was Adolph Schneider, and he was a
very intelligent fellow who spoke four or five languages (but no
Turkish), and had a wife, daughter, and sister-in-law traveling with
him. Gest unfolded Willie's plot, and it was easy to talk Schneider
into coming to America for a salary he had never even dreamed of.
They went to Adrianople and were outfitted with complete Turk-
ish outfits for the three "wives" and himself. They learned a few
Turkish words and were coached as to their actions and behavior.
Then they notified the New York Herald correspondent in Paris
that Abdul Kadar (Schneider's new name), court artist of the Turk-
ish Sultan, was en route with his three wives to New York.
They played in Paris and created a sensation, and their coming
to America was cabled and played up by the New York papers. On
the boat whenever passengers asked them a question they sank
to their knees and prayed to Allah. It kept them from having to
answer. They became lie passengers' pets when the ships' reporters
came aboard. Immigration officials sent the entire outfit to Ellis
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 390
Island, where they were detained while the official status of the
three wives was refeired to Washington. (Willie, under a different
name, made the complaint to the authorities.) The conflict with
the Immigration officials got plenty of newspaper space. Willie
finally put up a bond guaranteeing that the Turk and his wives
would leave the country in due time and that they wouldn't be a
financial burden to the good citizens of the U.S.
He sent them to the Waldorf-Astoria for accommodations. They
were refused (a guy with three wives— and only one house detec-
tive In the place) . They then went to several other big hotels with
their forty pieces of baggage, and of course a parade of newspaper-
men and photographers, and they were turned down by all the big
hotels. Willie finally put them up in a swanky furnished apartment
(which he had ready all the time). Abdul Kadar and His Three
Wives appeared at Hammerstein's; he painted quick sketches in oil
while the "wives" graced the stage, doing nothing except to remove
the sketches when he finished. He was a sensation for many weeks
and when he finished his engagement he bought a home in Atlantic
City and lived there under his real name with his family for many
years on the profits he made at Hammers tein's!
The biggest receipts at Hamrnerstein's were from Evelyn Nesbit's
engagement. After the sensational testimony and the notoriety she
received in the famous White-Thaw case, no manager would give
her a job, Willie sent her to London, where she played for a few
weeks (the English were very polite to her), but cables came to
America about her tremendous success as a dancer. Newspapers
those days would accept news from abroad and feature it, but
wouldn't touch the same story (especially theatrical stuff) If com-
ing from America. When Miss Nesbit came to New York, she was
an object of great curiosity. Willie had her billed as Mrs. Harry
Thaw, to which she objected and made him change it to Evelyn
Nesbit. The first week she played Hammerstein's, luck was with
Willie from a publicity standpoint. Harry Thaw escaped from
Matawan. Instantly Evelyn became the center of attention by de-
claring in a dramatic manner that she feared for her life, now that
Harry was free. Willie got a detail of police (in uniform, of
course) to guard her day and night. Some people even accused
Willie of engineering Thaw's escape! Evelyn became the most
talked-of woman in the world. Hammerstein's made an $80,000
profit on her eight-week engagement and paid her $3,500 a week.
IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY 392
Jack Clifford was her dancing partner. She went on tour and be
came a big box-office draw. Morris Gest managed her, and he and
his associates made $100,000 on her tour; even the conservative
Keith Circuit played her for many seasons.
Another attraction Morris Gest told me about was Machnow, an
ignorant Russian peasant, who was 9 feet 2. inches tall. Circus and
freak shows tried to get him to America, but he feared the ocean
voyage. Willie sent Gest to get him. He got him to sign a con-
tract easily enough, but on the day of sailing he refused to go. Gest
got two hotel porters in showy uniforms, introduced them as police
officers, and Machnow was told they had to take him to the Cap-
tain on a warship who was in command of the city. He got on the
ship, and when it started to move it took ten sailors to hold him
down. He had a terrific appetite; ten bottles of soda and thirty
oranges was a good lunch. He slept in the private passageway on
the floor as the berths were too small. Arriving in America, there
was more trouble with the immigration officers; they not only re-
fused him admittance but ruled he was an imbecile. Willie put up
a bond and Machnow opened at Hammerstein's and was a sensa-
tion— doing absolutely nothing! Later needing more publicity,
Willie had Machnow pinched for walking on the grass in Central
Park. He wouldn't fit in the patrol wagon— more publicity, more
pictures, more business.
Ann Marble, then Willie's press agent, went to Washington and
telegraphed to Willie in the name of Teddy Roosevelt that he
wished to see the giant. Through influence, Ann Marble finally got
the O.K. from T.R., and Willie chartered a special train for news-
papermen. The giant met the President and turned his back on
him, claiming that they were playing a joke, that it wasn't really
the President of the United States. How could he be? There were
no soldiers around him and he didn't wear a uniform. He was
finally convinced and the story went all over the world, which made
Machnow a great attraction for many more weeks. He took enough
rubles back to Russia to finance a private revolution.
Willie believed that one of the greatest attractions he ever had
was Gertrude Hoffman as Salom6. The Salome craze was at its
height in Europe, and Willie read a description of the dance that
Maude Allen was doing in London at the Palace Music Hall. See-
ing Gertrude Hoffman seated in a box with her husband and
musical director, Max, he convinced her that she should be the
These Were the Kings and Rulers . . . 392
first to do it here, as she already had a big name in vaude and this
would make her bigger. It didn't take Willie long to convince any-
body and in a few days she and her husband sailed under the name
of Mr. and Mrs. Adams, as they didn't want anyone to know they
were going over to see Maude Allen, It didn't take her long to see
what Miss Allen was doing and she returned to America. When she
put the act in rehearsal here, Oscar heard about it and objected.
"I have just engaged Mary Garden to sing Salom6 at my Opera
House; we cannot have two of them." This tied the act up for
awhile, but soon he gave his O.K. and "A Vision of Salome ' was
put on and was positively sensational. It ran for twenty-two weeks,
which was the longest run for any attraction at Hammers tein's.
There were literally hundreds of Salome acts after this.
Willie could make an attraction out of almost anybody. With
his genius for publicity and sensing what people wanted, he could
make a money-maker out of an obscure person. There was a girl by
the name of Flossie Crane who worked in Smith's Caf6 at Coney
Island, which was one of the best-known and popular resorts of
the Island. She was a raw-looking, gawky gal, strictly country style.
She seemed to have two voices, changing from baritone to soprano.
The crowd would laugh. Willie sent for her. It took a long time
for him to convince her that she wasn't being kidded when he
offered her a job at his theater. She rehearsed an act and Willie
billed her like a circus— "New Discovery, Flossie Crane, the Girl
from Coney Island."
"You know, people like that," said Willie. "'People like to dis-
cover talent, especially a poor girl from a saloon; Cinderella stuff
always gets them." She went on and did fairly well, proving a good
drawing card while she lasted. Hammerstein had her under con-
tract for $50 a week, and got her other dates for $250 and made
the difference.
He took Rajah, a snake charmer at Huber's Museum on Four-
teenth Street, had her put on a dance with a snake, and she be-
came a headliner for many years. Ruth St. Denis, the famous art
dancer, first was presented at Proctor's Twenty-third Street under
the name of Radha and was a failure at $750 a week. A few years
later Willie hired her, changed her name, publicized her, and paid
her $2,000 a week for almost the same dance, and she became one
of the country's most famous dancers!
Lady Francis Hope, originally May Yohe, who married the
IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY 393
owner of the famous Hope Diamond, was once booked at the
New York Theatre, to sing a few songs and show the famous
$100,000 Hope Diamond. When she played for Willie later, he put
in the contract that Lord Hope had to stand in the lobby; for this
he paid them $1,500 a week. He later played her for $1,000 a week,
and much later, when bad times hit May and there was no Hope
(having been divorced), he played her for $75 a week. She was
then married to Jack McAuliffe, the fighter.
Willie booked the famous Dr. Cook, phony North Pole explorer,
who claimed it was he, not Admiral Peary, who discovered the Pole
and had a lot of publicity about it. He made two spiels a day and
received $1,000 a week, but he didn't draw. Bessie DeVoie, who
gained much publicity for getting love letters from millionaire
Frank Gould, also fliwed.
Don, the Talking Dog, who could say "Hunger" and "Kiicheri"
and that's about all; was a great attraction at the Corner because
of Loney Haskell's monologue on him while the trainer tried to
make him talk. Countess Swirsky made them laugh at a classic
dance she did (they weren't supposed to laugh) for $750 a week
and jammed them in.
Willie heard about a Hindu playing a small music hall in Lon-
don, had him dressed up as a "titled" Persian, provided him with
a retinue of native servants, and the ship news reporters went hook,
line, and press release for him. He was billed as "Shekla, the Court
Magician to the Shah of Persia." He was a big hit for a whole
summer. Most of the "freak acts" had no specialty, and that was
where Loney Haskell, an old monologist, and then working as
assistant to Willie, came in. He would go on, make the pitch,
answer questions, get laughs, etc., for the acts that didn't do any-
thing.
The biggest fake attraction at the Corner was Carmencita, the
dancer. Way back in 1894 when Koster and Dial's Music Hall was
the center of gay life in New York, there had been a famous dancer
named Carmencita. She was the idol of the wolves of that day and
was a sensation. When the original Carmencita had been dead for
over six years, Willie engineered a "farewell7 appearance for her.
Next door at the Belasco, The Rose of the Rancho was playing,
and in the show there was a former chorus girl who interpreted a
Spanish dance in the drama. She became Willie's "Carmencita/'
He signed her to a contract, sent her to Europe, and agents there
These Were the Kings and Rulers . . . 394
cabled about her success. She came back to America, grabbed lots
of newspaper space about her old triumphs (nobody bothering to
check up that she had been dead six years), opened at Hammer-
stein's, and was a riot! Billed as "Reappearance of the famous
dancer, Carmencita, after an absence of ten years." All the old-
timers and tired wolves came to see her once more. Nobody ever
discovered that she had been an obscure dancer next door to Ham-
merstein's only a few months before.
Al Jolson first played Hammerstein's as a single in New York
and proved one of the biggest hits that ever played the house. He
went back to Dockstader's Minstrels for much less money, but he
liked it The aristocrats and the blue bloods of vaudeville all ap-
peared at Hammerstein's!
Like Tony Pastor, you didn't need a contract with Willie. When
he said, "O.K., you play here week of so-and-so/' that was as good
as a contract. One week he would book an act that drew a lot of
women who acted like men, and the next week he'd book an act
that drew a lot of men who acted like women. Willie was neutral;
anything for a laugh, especially if it would jam 'em in.
Between packin' *em in and dreaming up headliners and playing
practical jokes, Willie found recreation playing horses, poker,
pinochle, and shooting craps. He once said, "Years ago I lost $50
in my first crap game and I've been trying to get it back all these
years/' He only played with his own particular friends. At one time
the backstage crap game at Hammerstein's was one of the biggest
in town. It got so big they had to transfer it to the Hermitage
across the street. Thousands were lost, and won.
In 1911 Willie had an argument with his dad and left the
theater. You never saw such a change in a theater overnight. The
house dropped plenty; on a Saturday night they only had $400 in
the till! He returned two months later (two terrible months for
Hammerstein's) and put on a seventeen-act bill and brought biz
back overnight. He billed it as "Colossal Vaudeville." Frank Jones
replaced Aaron Kessler as assistant manager; Aaron became a big-
time agent. The head usher there for many years was Dick Aber-
nathy, the bartender was Davy (I doubt if anybody knew his last
name), George May was the leader, Mike Simon the stage man-
ager (later Mark Nelson replaced him), Charlie Jones was in the
box office with Brady Greer as his assistant (Allan Schneebe fol-
IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY 395
lowed Jones), and the theater's cafs name was Thornton. What
a family!
Willie never spurned a "freak attraction" that had been adver-
tised in the headlines; they all meant one thing to him— box office!
Willie was unlike the typical showman. He didn't have the glamor
of his dad; he was cold, reserved, and cynical. He would unbend
only among his close friends, but in the main he was unresponsive.
He was generous with passes but never used a pass pad, merely
scribbling a circle number and W.H.; sometimes he added a date.
It seemed very simple for he used any scrap of paper that was
handy, but it is said that there were practically no forgeries passed
at the box office, though many tried. (It was a practice of many
pass-hounds to even forge them for different houses.)
Willie booked shrewdly but fairly, and if he felt that an act
would bring in big returns, he was willing to pay big money, but
he wanted value received for all he paid out, and he generally got
it. He paid many acts "show money" that wanted to be seen at
the "Corner." Many a turn owed its professional life to the build-
up he gave them when others were afraid to take a chance, and he
was not afraid to put an act in for a run if he felt it would hold
attention. Often he offered suggestions that made the difference
between failure and success.
Willie never showed emotion and his own personality was com-
pletely different than the personality he gave to the theater. The
"Corner" was a genial, friendly spot, loved by the paying patrons,
and the gathering place of the show folk and the sporting element
of the city. While Willie was manager, actors loved to play there;
it was the Palace of its day. Hammerstein's was billed as the
"stepping stone to Broadway." It was the fantastic Willie Hammer-
stein who helped many an actor step on that magic stone to
Broadway, fame, and fortune!
So it was with a heavy heart that show folks heard about the
passing of Willie Hammerstein. He died at the age of forty-two,
in 1914. He was married twice. His first wife (mother of Oscar 2d
and Reggie) died in 1910. Willie then married her sister (Anna
Nimmo).
After Willie's death, his brother Arthur and Loney Haskell and
Lyle Andrews took over the management. The Palace was cutting
in terribly. The "Corner" just wasn't the same without Willie. The
place seemed to have a reversal of form. Admissions were reduced
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 390
Freaks were not so popular. Mrs. "Gyp the Blood" and Mrs. "Lefty
Louie," whose husbands had been electrocuted for the murder of
Rosenthal the bookmaker, wanted a job, although not keen to do
an act; they were turned down. Later Arthur booked a few freaks;
it paid off. He made many changes. The colored male ushers were
changed, after fifteen or twenty years, to colored girl ushers. It
was all a different show biz than when Willie was alive. The
Palace was ushering in a new era. It wasn't Arthur's fault he
couldn't make the "Corner" pay off.
Hanimerstein's went up for sale for $125,000 yearly rent for re-
mainder of a ten-year ground lease; it stood Hammerstein about
$50,000 a year rent and taxes. Arthur Mayer and his associates
bought up the lease, rebuilt the old place, and called it the Rialto
( 1916) . The last bill at the Victoria was the week of April 26, 1915.
The bill was: Overture, Althea Twin Sisters, Dainty Marie, Harry
Breen, Exposition Four, O'Brien Havel Co., Intermission, Will
Rogers, Ruby Norton & Sammy Lee, Frank Fogarty, Princess Rajah
(funny she should be on the last bill in the theater that made her
a headliner), and a Charlie Chaplin comedy picture— and the
exit march] As an afterpiece at the last show there was a special
minstrel show with Frank Fogarty as the interlocutor.
Arthur tried to start vaude again with William Morris at the
Forty-fourth Street Theatre, but was refused bookings by the
U.B.O., which claimed that his franchise applied only to the Vic-
toria. The Forty-fourth Street idea didn't last long after that,
although he had a few real big vaude shows.
Oscar Hammerstein, ist, died August i, 1919, a great showman.
He lived to see his sons become great showmen like himself, his
daughters fine actresses, and one of his grandsons (named after
him) one of the great lyricists, poets, and producers of our time.
There are a few more Hammersteins to carry on: Teddy (Arthur's
son), Reggie and Oscar (Willie's sons). Abe and Harry had no
children.
Hammerstein's Victoria died when Willie died. It may be gen-
erations before anyone achieves the same measure of friendliness
for a theater as Willie did for his Victoria, at the "Corner" of
Forty-second Street and Seventh Avenuel
SYLVESTER Z. POLI 397
Sylvester Z.
One of the most colorful romances of the days of real vaude is the
story of Sylvester Z. Poli, who ran a small group of wax figures into
a multimillion-dollar amusement enterprise. He was a genius in his
way and yet a modest and unassertive personality who enjoyed the
respect of the entire business.
He was brought to this country by the Eden Mus6e, when their
waxworks show opened on West Twenty-third Street, over half a
century ago. He was a sculptor of sorts and it was his job to keep
the exhibit up to date. Some of the figures, such as the group of
crowned heads, were more or less permanent (they were permanent
in those days), but the Musee's "change of bill" consisted of offer-
ing effigies of the latest murderers, bank robbers, and others in the
public eye. "When a figure became outdated, it was Poli's job to
melt the wax head down and recast the material to some newer
public figure.
On the side he made a few figures for himself and when he got
a couple of dozen, he quit his job and opened a side show at
Ontario Beach, a resort near Rochester, New York. He moved
around with the seasons, but finally came to rest in New Haven,
Connecticut, where he found an upstairs hall which could be rented
cheaply. He set up his waxworks museum and soon added a few
variety acts (as all museums did those days) . Eventually the variety
show became so important that he got rid of the wax figures and
ran just variety. Where other theaters worked the two- and
three-a-day schedule (with the big acts doing two), Poli played his
more important acts doing three and the lesser acts doing four.
Acts that flatly refused to do a "supper show" for Keith would go
to New Haven and do it cheerfully for Poli. Some of the tops of
old variety did three-a-day for Poli, at New Haven.
With a small seating capacity he could not afford to pay the
acts their regular salaries and they knew that they would have to
take a cut (and a good one) to play the date. Generally, the big
acts booked in only when it was not possible to get other and
financially better bookings. Poli never knew until Thursday (some-
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 398
times Friday) the show he was going to have on Monday. And
sometimes it was even Monday morning when he knew his com-
plete bill. Acts playing Poll's figured it was better to play the week
at a big cut than not to play at all. But most of them waited until
the last minute in the hope of picking up a full-price date. In other
words, they used Poli as a convenience. They also played for him
because he was an independent, was out of town, had no opposi-
tion, and, best of all, nobody knew the salary he was paying.
In his booking, Poli was largely helped by William Morris, who
had plenty of full-pay-time bookings, but tucked Poli in as a rider.
Morris acts felt they were more or less obligated to play for Poli,
though Morris never made them do it (as many other bookers did) .
He used one argument, "Why lay off? Cop this dough," and so
Poli gave as good a show as many a big-time house in New York.
It was tough to advertise a show that was not set, but the town
sensed the difficulties of getting acts to come to New Haven and
figured that Poli would have a good show, no matter what the ads
said, so they came. And anyway those Yale students would go any
place to duck classes!
I recall the time when Poli asked the famous Jim Thornton to
play for him. He told him that his theater was a small one, the
town was small, the orchestra was small, the seating capacity was
small, etc. After Thornton heard this, he turned to Poli and said,
"Mr. Poli, why don't you book midgets for your house?"
It was a number of years before Poli tried to expand. There was
plenty of open territory, but he held off until he felt that if he
didn't, some other manager would. He opened houses in Bridge-
port, Waterbury, and other near-by spots, and did so well he built
a real theater in the home town, the Palace.
S. Z. Poli is probably the only man in this country who built a
vaude theater without a single mortgage or lien. (Martin Beck was
the only one that built a legit theater without a mortgage.) Poli
paid as he went, and the house opened absolutely free of obliga-
tion. It was really a handsome house for its time. As a sculptor
Poli brought in all the Italian marble duty free and used plenty
of it But building a theater very nearly proved his undoing.
When the Keith Booking Office had been formed, every effort
was made to get Poli in line, but he dodged. Once Phil Nash actu-
ally talked him into joining and got his check for membership
dues. Poli went down to lunch with William Morris. Nash told the
SYLVESTER Z . POLI 399
actors gathered in the reception room that Poli had come into the
Booking Office, and showed the check to prove it.
That time Moms and Poli,. breaking their usual custom, went to
lunch at the Morton House, taking a table at the window level with
the street. Soon an actor spied them and told Poli he wanted to
cancel a date he had made for a few weeks later. "I'm not going to
let you tell the booking office what you're paying me/' A little later
another actor canceled; then a third. "But I'm not in the United
Booking Office/' insisted the frightened Poli. "You can tell every-
one." So the actor raced off and the first one he told was Nash,
who laughed and waved the Poli check. He didn't laugh two days
later when the check came back marked, "Payment stopped/'
When Poli had only one house the U.BXX let him alone; it was
after bigger game. But when he expanded and the office learned of
his financial setup, it moved in. Poli sought banking accommoda-
tions from his usual sources and was refused. He went to other
banks, but got the same results. No credit! Then a friendly banker
advised him that every financial institution in the state had been
warned that if Poli opened up any more theaters without U.B.O.
consent, Keith would build an opposition in every spot. So what
happened? Poli left Morris and joined the U.B.O., much against
his will, but he just had to.
With the financial bar removed, Poli expanded his holdings. He
had to pay more for acts, but not as much as he had feared, and
he was able through thrifty management to make a nice profit.
He later sold out to William Fox at a big profit, though some of
the dough is said to be still unpaid, being represented by stocks
and bonds. Still he made enough cash to retire to a life of luxury
and to marry his daughters into Italian nobility.
Personally he was tall, heavy-set but not fat, with jet black hair
and mustache. He never lost his heavy Italian accent, but it was
not the accent of the stage comedian. He was jovial and was good
company and he had the respect of his fellow managers who booked
through the Morris office. Often when a business question arose at
meetings, Willie Hammerstein or Percy Williams would suggest,
"Let's leave it until Thursday when Poli comes to town/' He was
then still in the one-house stage, but the big-time men had a
healthy respect for his knowledge of show biz.
For years he personally booked his shows, coming to New York
on Thursday and again on Friday if necessary. Later, when the
These Were the Kings end Riders ... 40°
circuit expanded, he sent his nephew, P. Alonzo Poll, down to New
York to represent him. Shortly after Alonzo started, a friend asked
Poli how Alonzo was doing? Poll shrugged his shoulders and said,
'Pretty good. Of course he makes some mistakes, but he'll learn
from them. I'd rather lose money from his mistakes than put in a
clever guy who would not make mistakes but would graft. When
Alonzo learns, he'll make no more mistakes. The clever guy would
keep on grafting." He was right about Alonzo, who became a fine
booker.
Poli was a natural-born mixer, and Sylvester dressed in a green
sash and plug hat marching in the St. Patrick's Day Parade of the
Ancient Order of Hibernians was one of the local sights. He saw
nothing odd in his membership in an Irish Society. They liked him
and he liked them. He was happy to accept their invitation to join,
and he always did his bit.
When he made his first trip back to Italy, he was given a send-off
banquet at which the Mayor of New Haven acted as toastmaster.
The "Who's Who" of New Haven and the state were guests at
that party.
The tip-off on Poli is an incident that happened at the opening
of his Bridgeport house. Several friends came down from New
York and he met them at the station. They went to dinner, then
to the theater, where they tried to get in through the front door,
the doors not yet being opened. The doorman stopped them, ex-
plaining he had been told to let no one in. "But I am Poli," the
host protested. "I don't know that/' said the doorman. "You'll have
to see the manager." Without a word Poli led the party around the
block to the stage door, where he was recognized. "I suppose you'll
have a new doorman tomorrow?" said one of the party. Poli looked
surprised and said, "Certainly not. The man was just doing his
duty. He never saw me before. I might not have been Poli!" And
that was that. As long as a man did his duty, he was sure of a job
with Poli. He was too big a man to resent being turned down at
the front door of his own theater.
When S. Z. Poli died, he was honestly mourned by actors and
managers and neighbors. He left about thirty million bucks, and
the Government got the last laugh, when they cut Polil
ALEXANDER PAIfTAGES 40 J
Born in Greece in 1871, Alexander Pantages came to this country as
a young man, and when the gold rush was on he struct out for the
Klondike. They say he ran the honky-tonk owned by Klondike
Kate, but the truth is that he started as a waiter and signed con-
tracts with the gambling houses to clean, sweep, and wash up the
floors at night. From the sweepings, he extracted the gold dust
dropped by players during the gambling hours; this added up to
quite a bundle.
From the Klondike he came to Seattle, Washington, and opened
up a combination bootblack parlor and fruit store adjoining the
Sullivan & Considine theater. The actors playing the theater
patronized his store and he became a favorite with them. In 1902
he sold the store and opened up a 10 cent theater, did very well,
and opened some more and soon he had a chain. He was now oppo-
sition to Sullivan & Considine and he and John Considine became
real enemies. The feud lasted for many years and only stopped
when his daughter Carmen married John W. Considine, Jr., who is
now a big producer in Hollywood.
Pantages' success with his few theaters led him to enter the
sacred Orpheum Territory down the Pacific coast. He was so suc-
cessful that he got the idea for a national circuit on a big scale. He
opened booking offices in New York and Chicago and routed his
shows westward. He got as far east as Birmingham, Alabama. Most
of his holdings were in the Middle and Far West. He overexpanded
with vaude-film and in the 1929 crash was hit hard. He disposed of
most of his holdings and sold six of his principal properties to
RKO, Tacoma, Portland, San Diego, Spokane, Frisco, and Salt
Lake City, for three and a half million dollars. (A few years before
he had asked eight million for them.) He got part in cash and part
in bonds. (He lost the bonds, as did RKO, when the company
went into default, receivership, etc.)
At the peak of his career he operated thirty theaters. He tried a
comeback in 1933 by leasing theaters in Hollywood, Seattle, and
Salt Lake City, It failed because the jumps were too big. At one
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 402
time he was one of the most important inde circuits in the country
as to most weeks offered and territory covered. He road-showed
his shows (a la Orpheum and S. & C.) and issued contracts for
thirty-two weeks (with a catch; all contracts read fourteen weeks
or more). At the end of six weeks the act would reach the Coast
and six of the remaining eight weeks would go to 25 per cent cuts,
take it or leave it; most of the acts took it to keep from being
stranded way out there. When the Orpheum and S. & C. circuits
bought up all the good acts, he booked European acts who would
never have played in America if not for Pantages. Personally he
favored acrobats and played at least one on each bill, sometimes
two. He had a habit of breaking up "flash acts" and taking out cer-
tain singing or dancing girls or teams and playing them on his
circuit.
He liked to book acts direct but let the actual bookings go
through the agents; he took the word of the act instead of the
agent. He even used some acts as spies to send in reports on the
shows, house, and management. He didn't even trust his managers I
Pantages never learned how to read or write. He had his employees
read his telegrams, and his wife handled his personal affairs. But he
had a remarkable memory (like Martin Beck); he could remember
salary, position on the bill, when the act played for him, and how
they went over. He created "office" acts, that is, girl acts or flash
acts in which one of his bookers or agents had an interest; in that
way he knew what it cost and what the overhead was. He played
one office act against the other, each one watching the other's:
mistakes and watching out for graft.
Pantages played many big-time high-salaried acts as headliners,
but he never went Big Time. Unlike Marcus Loew, he considered
vaude more important than pictures, and was a very good vaude
showman. During the war in 1914 he put up a wireless on the roof
of his theater in Edmonton, Canada, so the latest war messages
could be read between acts. It was seized by the army and dis-
mantled. He leaned a lot towards the Willie Hammerstein school
of playing freak acts, although never was the showman Willie was.,
He played a number of convicts and also in 1924 gave Fatty
Arbuckle a chance to make a comeback when nobody would touch
him after the bad publicity he had received. When Arbuckle*
walked on the stage in San Francisco he received a two-minute
ovation. Pantages played many fight champs and did big business;
JAMES AUSTIN VYNES
403
with them. In 1930 he introduced at his Minneapolis theater a new
idea in picture trailers. He had two actors who were playing on the
bill act out big moments of the coming film in an interior set.
He was more or less retired at the time of his death (he died In
bed from a heart attack, 1936); he was in a partnership with RKO
with his houses in Hollywood, and the Hill Street, Los Angeles,
which his son Rodney operated. Pantages went through several
fortunes. In later years he had a great interest in race horses; his
son Rodney, partnered with Harry Rogers, handled the theaters
and the booking office, Pantages made a lot of money in oil and
investments.
He would play acts he liked over and over again on his circuit.
He figured himself a great ladies' man and liked to book girl acts.
The only thing that Pantages contributed to vaudeville was the
opposition he gave to the Orpheum and S. & C. circuits, which
made it possible for the actors to dicker for the salaries they
wanted. He certainly played a big part in small-time vaudeville!
James Austin Fynes
I feel that I should tell you about J. Austin Fynes, because he
contributed a great deal to putting early vaudeville on a solid
foundation. I realize the name is strange even to vaudevillians and
practically unknown to the layman. But he really was a very inter-
esting personality. I didn't know him, but from the stories told to
me about him by Sime Silverman, Chicot (Epes Sargent), J. C.
Nugent, and George M. Cohan, I believe I can give you a pretty
good picture of this gentleman.
Had he been six inches taller, the probabilities are that James
Austin Fynes would have written his name more boldly in the
book of vaudeville, for he suffered an inferiority complex that
crabbed his disposition and to some extent limited his usefulness.
He always had a dread that some third-rate actor would hold him
up on the street and bawl him out for not booking his act. For
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 404
that reason he always carried a heavy cane for self-protection. He
never had to use it, but he figured there was always a chance. He
was very sarcastic and quick to find offense where none was in-
tended, and this kind of narrowed his friendship circle.
For some reason he disliked his first name. His close friends called
him Jack, though that name really belonged to his brother, John T.
Fynes (a press agent). To all others he was J. Austin Fynes, and
few knew what the initial stood for. (To this day nobody knows
what the R. H. stood for in the late R. H. Burnside's name.)
Fynes started as a Boston newspaperman, then came to the New
York Sun, doing dramatic criticism as a side line for $5.00 a story.
When Frank Queen, owner and editor of the Clipper, died, Fynes
was given the editorial post and made good. But Albert Borie, the
business manager, was out of step with Fynes' advanced ideas, and
Fynes tried to buy the paper from the estate, getting the cash from
B. F. Keith (whom he had known when he was a Boston news-
paperman). The deal was just about to go through when Borie got
wind of it and went to Philadelphia to talk the heirs out of the
deal.
That left Fynes out on a limb and Keith suggested he take over
the management of the Union Square Theatre, which he was about
to open. Fynes grabbed at this offer and did a great job. In those
days each manager selected his own program, subject to a budget
limit, and was practically an independent operator. Fynes used his
acquaintance with the legit actors to get many of them to take a
flyer in vaude. Until that time only one legitimate sketch (Redding
& Stanton) had tried vaude, and it was their success which gave
Fynes the idea.
He made a start with Charles Dickson and his wife, Lillian
Burkhart, and followed them with Mr. and Mrs. Drew (Gladys
Rankin), and then John Mason and Marion Manola. Only the
Drews and Miss Burkhart lasted in vaude. The others went around
once and were through. Fynes naturally wanted entertainment, but
he would book a big name in a poor sketch for the sake of the peo-
ple who would be attracted and get a liking for vaudeville. Now
and then he varied the dramatic sketch with some concert artist,
Camilla Urso and Edouard Remenyi being outstanding.
This kind of act upped the box-office receipts and made the
Union Square an important house. His success came to the atten-
tion of E. F. Albee, Keith's general manager, who figured that this
JAMES AUSTIN FYNES 405
former newspaperman was a real rival. He cut down the activities
of the resident managers of all Keith houses and put the booking of
the entire circuit in the hands of S. K. Hodgdon, who up to that
time had booked only the Boston Theatre's shows.
Via grapevine (which they have in show biz as they do in the
underworld) Fynes learned of the move and was ready for it. At
the same time as the announcement of the Keith change came the
announcement that Fynes had signed with F. F. Proctor as general
manager; he was now in a position to thumb his nose at Albee,
since his own position was just as big as Albee's. To get even with
Keith and Albee, Fynes began raiding the Keith personnel. Fynes
could have found others just as good, but he wanted to irritate
Albee and he certainly did. He had both Keith and Albee nuts!
At Proctor's he had a great freedom. When he was with Keith
he had to stick on the job. On the Proctor end he could do his
work when and how he wanted. He was a master of detail, and got
rid of a lot of work in a short time. He showed up at his office at
8:00, went over his mail, received his assistants7 reports, gave his
orders, and by noon was ready to go to lunch, leaving his desk
clean. He liked to go to the race tracks or around a horse room for
the winter betting, then go back to his office to clean up the busi-
ness of the day.
He made instant decisions and was very seldom wrong, and when
he was he never passed the buck to the one who originated the idea.
If Proctor complained that so-and-so shouldn't have done such-
and-such, Fynes very quietly would say, "I told him to," and head
off further debate. He always stood behind his staff and his staff
loved him for it.
It was Fynes with Hugh Ford who developed the highly success-
ful stock companies and who put into practice the English idea of
doubling. The nearness of the Twenty-third Street Theatre to the
Fifth Avenue house made it possible to give a headliner a double
job at a salary and a half. He once even tried to do a triple booking,
playing Blanche Ring at the Newark Theatre in addition to the
Twenty-third Street and Fifth Avenue, but it was too tough on the
artist. It never was repeated.
Fynes was never able to make Proctor theaters contenders with
Keith's because Proctor would not spend the money, but he did
make a very good profit for the circuit. Fynes left Proctor before
his contract was up because of friction, and was soon heard from in
These Were the Kings and Rulers . . . 406
the picture field. The pic store fit-up had just about hit New York,
and Fynes was shrewd enough to see its possibilities. The small
scale of costs and receipts didn't appeal to him, but for a time he
started these shows and sold 'em out as going concerns. For exam-
ple, he revamped an old church in Harlem, got his costs back the
first week or so, and sold the place for $1,500; it was a profitable
business while it lasted. (It required only an empty store, picture
sheet, cheap chairs, and a papier-mache front with a few big
incandescent lights.)
A couple of years later he made his last stand in the amusement
field and met his first defeat. He had popularized the legit artist in
vaudeville; now he tried to get the picture producers to use these
same names. But the producers were not yet ready for this. They
got nine cents a foot, net, whether the leading actor was John
Jones or a name star. They couldn't see any advantage, in money,
in using big names, and Fynes dropped the idea in disgust, going
back to the real estate business, in which he had dabbled for years.
A few years later he saw his headliners scheme adopted by the pic
people, but he made no fresh efforts to get into the game. He had
met the producers and felt they did not speak his language. Had
he lived, he might have become Hollywood's first and greatest ten-
percenter, but he passed on without making the try.
J. Austin Fynes did a lot for vaudeville and added a lot of firsts
from the managerial end. Besides getting the top legits to go into
vaude, he practically started the "freak act/' not as strenuously as
Willie Hammers tein, but he booked Mrs. Alice Shaw, a society gal
who was a whistler, and she brought the carriage trade to the box
office.
J. Austin Fynes was one of the few men who accomplished some-
thing really constructive in the vaudeville business when vaudeville
needed it most.
AND NOT FORGETTING . . . 407
« * »
One of the very important figures in small-time vaudeville was
Gus Sun. Born Gus Klotz in Toledo, Ohio, in 1868, he started as a
juggler and equilibrist in variety, then joined the Sells-Foley Circus
(later known as the Sells-Floto). He became treasurer, then circus
manager. Gus had three brothers, John, George, and Pete. With
only $200 they launched the Sun Bros. Circus in two wagons, with
the four boys and a 5o-foot round top. In its seventeenth season
they shifted from wagons to sixteen railroad cars carrying 250 peo-
ple. Gus gave this up to become a vaude manager and booker.
He started with a theater in Springfield, Ohio, which he made
his headquarters. In 1906 he booked three houses and by the next
year he controlled 70 houses in Ohio and Pennsylvania and booked
100 others. In 1909 he booked 200 houses and by 1926 was booking
over 300.
The Sun Circuit was more potent even than the smaller man-
agers and agents credited it with being. On the circuit there were
many important cities. He could play a medium-priced act, say
from $250 to $350 weekly, for ten to fifteen weeks in two- and
three-a-day houses. Of course he would use only one of this type act
on the bill and naturally headline them. Many acts didn't care
what they received, as they were breaking in their act for the Big
Time, and for Sun they would play towns that didn't interfere
with the big-time bookers. Gene Tunney and Jack Dempsey broke
in their acts for Sun. Of course the rest of his houses were small
theaters, airdomes, store shows, and were real small time.
Gus Sun introduced many things to vaudeville that didn't help
it any. He was the first to play "split weeks," which meant three
days in a town instead of a week, and he also was the first to have
the cancellation clause in his contract, where the manager could
close an act after the first show without paying the act a dime.
He also was the first to pay an act six-sevenths of a week's salary for
a six-day week where they didn't work on Sundays. (Many managers
in the East followed his example.) He would book an act on
photos, ads, and letterheads. When you put comedy in your ads,
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 40a
or sent him good-looking letterheads and clean photos, he would
say, "It must be a good act/' He had the reputation of wiring his
acts (instead of writing to them) on the least provocation. Acts
would figure at least three to five dollars a week for telegrams. (He
always sent them collect.) It got so actors called a messenger boy
on a bicycle, "Gus Sun's Bicycle Act." The Western Union did
more business in their Springfield, Ohio, office than they did in
many big cities. It was said that Sun had plenty of stock in the
company. They tell about the time he wired an act, "You play
Scranton, Pa., next week. Confirm." The act wired back (prepaid),
"Scranton O.K. next week." To which Sun immediately wired back
(collect), "Not Scranton O.K. Scranton P.A. Wire confirmation."
There were many cancellations on the Sun Time; the managers
were new to the business and very cheap and took unfair advantage
of the cancellation clause in the contract. By canceling an act or
two, they would have a new show at night, which brought in some
repeaters. One manager who played five acts had a slide put on the
screen even before the show went on reading, "All new show to-
night!" He would cancel his whole show, good or bad. The actors
didn't get wise for months. Van Hoven, the great comedy magician,
was closed more often than the cash drawer at Woolworth's.
Gus Sun at first restricted his operations to the Middle West, but
little by little he spread to the South, Pennsylvania, New York
State, and even New England.
The best you could say about most of the Gus Sun Circuit was
that it was the proving grounds for many acts; the good ones and
the ambitious ones left it as soon as they could, and the ones that
kept playing the circuit season after season could never brush off
that "small-time dust."
I will say that hundreds of acts on the Sun Circuit who never
got off it saved more money than some of the big-time acts. Many
of them saved enough money to buy a farm or a business or were
able to retire and live in comfort. Gus didn't pay big salaries, but
the jumps were small, many of them being just ten-cent electric
car rides to the next town, living was cheap (usually with some
private family), and the stage costumes didn't have to be expensive
(usually made by the wife) and lasted for many seasons. The act
didn't have to dress up in the small towns, so their street ward-
robes didn't amount to much. And there were few places to spend
AND NOT FORGETTING... 409
any money. So the grouch bags on the Sun Time grew fat by the
end of the season.
At one time Gus Sun booked more theaters (?) than the Keith
Circuit, but that's like saying a "pitchman" on Forty-second Street
sold more phony pearls than Tiffany did real onesl Gus at this
writing has retired and earned the fun he is now having with his
grandchildren, as he was a nice guy and never left his business a
minute in all the years he operated. It was too bad he was pioneer-
ing vaude when he had to deal with yokels who went into the
"new" picture-house business they "heard" about. Those days they
opened pic houses like they did gas stations years later, or like the
city chaps that went into the chicken-raising biz!
^ There were many managers who helped vaudeville reach the
Palace— managers who did the spade work that dug the foundation
for the Palace — men who were respected and honored in their com-
munities and by the actors who played for them. Space doesn't
permit giving full details about all of them, but no story of vaude-
ville would be complete without mentioning some of them.
Harry Jordan of Keith's, Philadelphia, was a very important part
of vaude; he not only was the manager of one of the finest vaude
theaters in America from the day it opened to the day vaudeville
was discontinued there, but he had a lot to say about the booking
of acts for his house. He helped good acts get routes by going to
New York on booking days and putting in a plug for the acts that
had made good for him, and his judgment was respected by the
bookers. A real fine gentleman whom the actors all loved.
John Royal, manager of Keith's Palace in Cleveland, was like
Jordan. He was a pioneer manager for Keith and practically ran
his own theater, and his opinion on acts was also highly respected
in the New York office; he too helped many an act get a break. He
now is one of the great consultants on radio and TV for NBC. He
also was the head of their talent department when it started, and
with his great experience in vaudeville I believe knows more about
acts in these two branches of show biz than anyone else. He is
liked by actors, which is a tip-off on a nice guy. I believe that John
Royal today is one of the few pioneer vaude managers that carried
on his great experience to radio & TV.
Then there were Wilmer and Vincent, two actor-writers who
played vaude and wrote many acts and finally ended up as man-
agers and owners of a chain of theaters. Mr. Wilmer died many
These Were the Kings and Rulers . . . 410
years ago. Walter Vincent, one of the finest gentlemen of the
theater I have ever mety still has a great circuit of houses in the
South, which are run by old hookers and agents and managers of
vaudeville with whom he worked for many years. Walter for over
twenty-five years has devoted his time, money, and heart to the
welfare of the actors he worked with and who worked for him and
all those that have followed them. He is now the president of the
Actors' Fund, following in the hallowed footsteps of Uncle Dan
Frohman, who was president for a half a century. A fine showman
and fine gentleman is Walter Vincent.
William Fox started with small-time vaudeville, and I started
with him, not as a partner but as an actor. I remember the tiny
office in the lobby of the Dewey Theatre on East Fourteenth Street
(directly opposite the famous Tony Pastor's) . This tiny office could
only hold a trio; if a quartette wanted to do business, the tenor
had to stay outside. There were no contracts; they just gave you a
slip of paper with the name of the theater you were to play. Every-
one knew the salaries, $20 for singles, $40 for doubles, $60 for trios,
$80 for quartettes, and if you happened to have five people in the
act they would add on a $5.00 bill.
William Fox was a great factor in early small time. Joe Leo, his
son-in-law, was his first booker, then Mr. Norris took over, followed
by Edgar Allen, and finally Jack Loeb, who was a partner of Fox
in a few theaters. Bill had quite a number of small-time houses and
was getting very important, but became picture-conscious and be-
fore you knew it was the head of Fox Pictures and one of the tops
in the business, so forgot his vaudeville interests and let Marcus
Loew step in. At one time Fox (an old furrier) owned more thea-
ters than anyone in show biz. He was buying up whole circuits;
he had an ambition to control all the theaters (nonlegit) in
America, and he almost made it, but a lot of financial troubles
piled up on him which ended up in bankruptcy. He still managed
to leave many millions when he died.
He spent the last years of his life playing pinochle in the little
shed in the parking space back of the Roxy Theatre (which he
owned, as he had owned the Roxy at one time) . He was very loyal
to his old friends; he made Ed Keeley, a cop he knew when he had
the Dewey, his booking manager, and later gave him a life job at
the studio. He became a partner of Keith in the Riverside Theatre,
New York, which made him familiar with big-tiine actors' salaries,
AND NOT FORGETTING . . . 411
and so helped his booker get the acts at the right price. The Fox
office had lots of trouble with actors in the breaking of contracts,,
etc., and at one time the V.M.P.A. gave him warning that if he
didn't mend his ways they would have to throw him out. This,
with the trade papers and actors also against him, made him issue a
new contract, the first one of its kind— he even put down what spot
the act had on the bill (never done before) . But Fox's mind wasn't
on vaude; he was in for much bigger money in pics. He got it.
However, you must count him as an important pioneer in small-
time vaude.
Then there were Sullivan and Considine. The Sullivan was
Timothy D., a New York state senator and political boss of New
York City. He was an East Side product and knew his way around.
But one time he was fooled was when, in partnership with William
Fox, they built the City Theatre on Fourteenth Street. They knew
that the city was going to condemn the property in order to cut
Irving Place on through, so they built the City Theatre right in
the middle of the right of way, figuring the city would pay a big
price in condemnation proceedings. Well, it just didn't happen,
and the City Theatre is still there! You would think, with his great
power and his knowledge of inside stuff, that Timothy D., or "Big
Tim," as he was called, could have put it through, but he didn't.
He was part of the theatrical firm of Sullivan, Woods & Kraus
(later Sam Harris joined the firm); they did melodramas (no doubt
Sullivan was declared in for his power in the city) . Then he joined
John Considine and started the Sullivan & Considine Circuit.
The S. & C. Circuit was not considered by the big or small time
as opposition. (Could it be the big guys in the East were afraid of
Big Tim?) They flourished in the West, and gave the only theatri-
cal contract in America you could borrow money on; it was the first
real play-or-pay contract. They treated the actors swell.
John Considine was the showman and ran the circuit. He started
with his brother George running the Comique in Seattle, Washing-
ton, in 1889. ft was a combo music hall and dance hall for miners,
sailors, and Chinese — these were the days of the honky-tonks, dance
halls, and gambling joints that catered to the adventurers flocking
to Alaska's gold rush. It was something of a slave market. "Come
in and pick one out — they're beautiful," was the sign outside.
John Considine was one of the most colorful characters in show
biz. He could handle a gun like Wild Bill Hickok and could play
These Were the Kings and Rulers ... 412
pool like Hoppe. His activities reached into various fields of sports
—horse shows, harness-horse breeding, setter-dog kennels, and box-
ing promotion. He ended up as the owner of the most famous
saloon in America in the 19005, the famous Metropole on the
busiest corner in the world, Forty-second Street and Broadway!
Many people think that the old Metropole was the spot where
Rosenthal the bookmaker was killed, but it was after Considine's
was closed and his new place on Forty-third Street (now the famous
RosofFs Restaurant) was where it happened. It was at the old
Metropole that you could meet all the famous figures of the stage
and sporting world, and John knew every phony and real guy.
John Considine was the active member of the firm of Sullivan
& Considine, and was the first manager to offer a full season's route
through the West. It was the first circuit that Al Jolson worked for
as a single. Freeman Bernstein was one of the first hookers of the
circuit, followed by Chris Brown and Abe Feinberg. Little Meyer
North served his apprenticeship as an office boy. They played some
of the biggest headliners when they were through with the
Orpheum Circuit. John was loyal to the acts that started with him
and they could play the circuit any time they wished.
John retired from active show biz about 1928. (Big Tim was
declared insane.) John was a great giver to old and new friends;
his word was better than a bond. He claimed he never lost a dime
in loans, never sued an actor, and never was sued by one. He would
carry as much as $20,000 in cash on his person. When asked why,
he said, "Never know when you meet a sucker/' Sullivan and
Considine were two top guys who ran a top circuit, and contributed
to vaudeville by giving it a play-or-pay contract and clean business
methods I
Before space runs out, I must tell you about the most colorful
and nicest guy of all the owner-managers of vaudeville. Mike Shea,
of Buffalo, started from scratch in the early i88os and nursed
vaudeville from the museum to the most popular form of amuse-
ment of its time! He believed in talent and independent and
individualistic showmanship.
Mike Shea became a showman in 1883 when he was twenty-five
years old. He had been a sailor on the Great Lakes, an iron-foundry
worker, and a stevedore. He made his theatrical debut as the owner,
operator, booker, bouncer, and entire staff of Shea's Music Hall in
Buffalo. He was destined to become Show Business itself, as far as
AND NOT FORGETTING . . . 413
Buffalo was concerned. No man had greater influence on the thea-
ter of any large city than Mike Shea did in his home town.
In 1883 there was no central booldng office on which an inde
theater operator could depend for his show. It was a matter of
picking up the acts when and where possible, mostly by corre-
spondence, with the operator acting as his own booker. Having
once acquired the habit, Mike never lost it. His theaters were listed
on a circuit's books, but he came to New York regularly to person-
ally oversee the penciling in of every act for his houses. He set his
own salaries, which the Keith people didn't like. He'd pay an act
$100 more if he thought it was worth it and the booking office
would squawk because the higher salary he placed on an act
would set a precedent, and they too would have to pay it.
He operated the Music Hall for twelve years, and the only thing
that could stop him did — a fire! It burned the two-a-day 5o-cent-top
show house of specialty acts to the ground. So Mike built himself
another one, the Garden, and when that went out of date he built
the Court, which he ran for twenty-five years with straight high-
grade vaude and in November 1926 he went to Vitaphone. He
kept building theaters, the Buffalo, Great Lakes, Hippodrome,
Shea's, Seneca, Century, Community, Park, Bailey, and a half a
dozen others, all in Buffalo and its suburbs. He also built a pair
of theaters in North Tonawanda, New York, a near-by town, and
one in Toronto, Canada. He ran them all himself, except the one
in Toronto, which his brother Jerry ran. He had a general manager,
Vince McPhail, who was with him for thirty-one years, and Tommy
Carr (Mike's brother-in-law) replaced him and stuck to the finish.
Mike's New York office was wherever he happened to be buying
pictures or talent. In Buffalo, his office was adjoining the top bal-
cony, three flights up, no elevator. When asked what was the idea,
he said, "I like to see the bankers walk up the stairs — it winds
them." He personally kept in great shape playing handball, even
when he was well over sixty-five.
In 1908 Mike stopped booking with Keith. Mr. Albee went to
Buffalo and told newspapermen that he had bought a large plot of
ground for a new vaude house. Next day Mike saw carts of dirt
going by with small American flags and signs on them reading,
"This is the dirt from the site of the New Keith Theatre/' Shea
went back to Keith bookings. It was Mike Shea who, against
orders, booked the Ponselle Sisters for $400 a week, when Keith
These Were the Kings and Rulers . . . £H
refused to raise them from the $350 they were then getting. They
broke up the act after the Shea's booking, and Rosa went with the
Metropolitan Opera Company. Many times Mike would figure you
weren't getting enough money for your act and would slip an
extra $50 in your envelope. He liked to go backstage and talk to
the actors.
In 1931 he went 50-50 with Publix on his twelve houses and
made a lot of money; then when Publix failed he had to take his
houses back at a big loss. When pic and vaude booking became
big he had to come to New York very often, so bought a house at
Sheepshead Bay7 and from then on he and his wife (only had one)
divided their time between their New York and Buffalo homes.
Mike died at the age of seventy-five in 1934.
There never was a rougher, tougher, sweeter, and nicer Irishman
than Mike Shea! And a great showman!
There are a few more I'd like to tell you about, like my pal Johnny
Galvin in Wilkes-Barre, Harry Bailey at the Alhambra (New York) „
Ed Fay in Providence, Ben Piazza (of all over), and Doc Elliott in
Youngstown, and Grady in Boston, but they keep yelling at me,
"We're running out of paper."
And so, these were the kings, czars, and rulers of the kingdom of
Vaudeville, the fatherland of song, dance, and story.
PAGES TORN
OUT OF OLD
VAUDEVILLE
Following is an introduction written by Epes W. Sargent before
his death in 1938. Sargent was one of Sime Silverman's associates
at the time Variety was founded. Known on the paper as Chicot,
he was feared but respected by all vaudeville performers. His knowl-
edge of vaudeville was encyclopedic and, like Umpire Klem, he
"called 'em as he saw 'em" and played no favorites.
Chicot and I often talked -for hours in the Variety office about
show biz, and it was he who urged me to write the story of vaude-
ville. When he read some of my early chapters he asked7 "Joe,
would you allow me to write an introduction to your book?" This,
coming from Chicot, was the greatest compliment ever paid to my
scribbling!
SEZ
JOE LAURIE, JR.
Back down the years, so long ago, in fact, that only the most
venerable of the old-timers can recall, Hyde & Behman were the
absolute czars of the Brooklyn theaters and Percy G. Williams had
not even started to popularize his Bergen Beach resort. And the
Hyde & Behman Adams Street Theatre was a temple of variety
second only to Tony Pastor's latest house in the old Tammany
Hall. They played the best acts to be had and wound up with the
traditional afterpiece, colloquially known as "nigger acts."
417
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 418
Louis C, Behrnan conceived the idea of making a collection of
these sketches, few of which have ever "been committed to paper.
They needed no book. All actors knew them and could play them
in any part at a moment's notice. It was Behman's thought that
the actors were getting no younger and it might be interesting to
get a permanent record. Week after week a new afterpiece was
presented, little better than a dress reharsal at the Monday matinee,
but going full swing toward the middle of the week, when half-
forgotten bits were recalled and inserted, Friday nights Behman
put a stenographer in one of the boxes and obtained a shorthand
record, probably the first and very likely the only written transcript
of "Stitch, the Tailor/1 "Forty Miles from Nowhere/' and kindred
titles. By the end of the season he had the basis of a priceless
library.
Then came a fire, the playscripts were destroyed, and Behman
lost heart and interest. It is probable that few of these old-timers
could be played today with anything approaching fidelity. Most of
them have been forgotten, though their component elements still
survive in musical comedy and on the radio.
Probably such playbooks would possess only an academic interest
today, for tastes and styles have changed, and patrons reared on
smutty songs and strip teases would give but a negative reaction to
the wholesome humor of the bygone day, but it would be of interest
to have them to compare with modern vaudeville and burlesque.
No similar fate will befall the old-time acts, for Joe Laurie, Jr.,
has spent his time and energy in the collation and collection of
type sketches, originally appearing in Variety but primarily de-
signed for the purpose of the present publication. Unlike Behman,
he has not sought to reproduce in toto the act of any one team or
combination. Rather he has striven, and with singular success, to
arrive at a norm which is representative of an entire type rather
than a single turn. Most of the bits are from actual offerings, as
the old-timers will realize, but each division is more typical of its
genre than any single act could be. He has sought the norm of that
classification rather than the reproduction of a single example.
The result is a compendium of the old-time talked vaudeville
that is truly representative of its day and which, as time passes and
with the time the players, will be an authentic source of informa-
tion for the student of popular entertainment. It has been a labor
of love with him, and this book is the result of deep study and
INTRODUCTION 419
exhaustive research, simple as the results may seem to be. He has
been at pains to go to original sources for the material. He has not
merely paraphrased or adapted material. He has dug out actual
examples, authentic repetitions, giving a picture of that vaudeville
which was in its heyday in the late '905 and early in the present
century. Only those who were familiar with that period can realize
how well and thoroughly he has performed his self-imposed task.
None of the examples is given in full form. Most of the acts
represented under these headings ran from twelve to fifteen min-
utes. He has not sought to cover the matter exhaustively, but has
cunningly contrived to give the full flavor of each style in curtailed
form. To endeavor to do more would be repetitious. Each example
is truly typical of its style and will give a clear and exact picture of
what they used to laugh at a quarter-century and more ago. But it
must be remembered that old vaudeville was more a matter of style
than material. It was not so much what they said and did as how
they said and did it. The compiler can give the words. He cannot
add the saving grace of personality.
In added chapters he has captured the flavor of the typical vaude-
ville actor's shoptalk, and has made lengthy lists of the old favor-
ites, very nearly complete catalogues of the old-timers, but here too
the limitations of words prevents the transfer of the full flavor.
Nor can he more than faintly suggest the real flavor of vaudeville,
the specialties. Not the most finished word painter can even re-
motely convey the idea of the real charm of the old vaudeville:
the specialties.
Who can put in cold type the grade and daring of the triple bar
act of Frank Marlom and Ben Dunham, for example? They can be
mentioned, but not adequately described. Similarly no words can
be found for the droll antics of Frank E. McNish in his acrobatic
"Silence and Fun/' nor tell the grace and finish of the Four Bards
in their more stylized acrobatic act or the flashy and finished work
of the Cragg Family. No pastel in prose can adequately tell of the
elaborate "class" of a Billy Emerson song and dance or glorify the
remarkable feats of Alcide Capitaine on the trapeze. All that can
be done Laurie has done, and adequately, but the bigger and better
half must forever remain untold because telling is not possible.
Vaudeville as we used to know it is as dead as the ancient line
of Caesars and its carcass bears as many stab wounds as the coroner
found on the body of the late and lamented Julius of that ilk. The
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 420
motion picture administered the coup de gr&ce, but vaudeville
might have survived merely the pictures. The more insidious
wounds came from its friends. Even Percy G. Williams pushed in
the knife when he sold out his interests to the Keith office and the
Keith people promptly cut salaries to retrieve the purchase price.
The influx of nudity which then followed the introduction by Eva
Tanguay of the Dance of the Seven Veils did much to lower the
standards. A growing disregard for cleanliness was another insidious
blow, for one does not have to be clever if laughs can be more
easily won through the shock of impropriety. Vaudeville today is a
matter of four-figure headliners. It seldom happens that a vaude-
ville show today draws money because of the correlated presenta-
tion of eight or ten acts of entertainments. The "name" draws and
the rest is merely a filler. The name still applies to a certain form of
entertainment— but it isn't vaudeville, and it never will be again.
Which is what will presently make this little study of what was
of interest for comparison with what will be, whatever that may be.
This book is a chapter of the past, speaking with no uncertain
voice. It is a more important contribution to the literature of that
stage than it may appear to be for the moment.
EPES W. SARGENT (CHICOT)
The M onologist
Enters to good lively music, music stops when he starts talking.
He is dressed in Prince Albert and has a newspaper in his hand.
Well sir, I just came to the theater on a streetcar. There was only
three of us on the car, a blind man, a policeman, and myself . . .
and I lost my -watch. I asked the conductor, "Does this car stop
at the Battery?" and he said, "If it doesn't, we'll all have to swim."
We went along a little further and I saw the conductor acting very
peculiar; he was throwing a handful of nickels to the top of the
car, I said, "My good man, what is the idea?" and the conductor
THEMONOLOGIST 421
said, "I throw up all the nickels and the ones that stick on the
bell rope, the company gets." Yes siree.
Which reminds me of my wife, God bless her. Whenever I talk
about my wife, I say God bless her; of course sometimes I say
God . . . But speaking about the wife, I believe every man should
take a wife, but be careful of whose wife you take. Ill never forget
the time I proposed to my wife. Boys, did you ever notice when you
propose to a girl she hangs her head and hardly knows how to
answer you? Before you're married a week, she'll know how to
answer you. . . . Yes siree. I think everybody should take a wife,
and if you have a deep grudge against yourself, marry a widow.
I did. I told her I would be the captain of her ship so we could sail
down the tossing sea of life together. She said I was too late for
captain, but I could become her second mate, I did. I married her
because I thought she had money. And right here let me tell you
folks that a man that marries for money has a hard time collecting
his wages. Yes siree.
I'm glad to see the ladies looking so fine, bless their dear little
hearts. For that matter, they alway do look fine, especially in the
morning when they are watching the eggs boil, with their hair full
of curl papers and their mouth full of hairpins. And have you
noticed how the ladies are taking part in politics lately? Why, we'll
soon have lady policemen, and I suppose if we have lady policemen
we will have lady pickpockets; well for that matter we have lady
pickpockets now. I know; Fm married. But there is one thing we
will never have in this country, that is a lady President. Not that
any one of you ladies would not make a good President, but the
Constitution of the United States says that anyone to be President
of the U.S. must be over thirty-five years of age. Now tell me,
where are you going to find a woman that will admit she is over
thirty-five? No siree. At that, some day we will wake up and find
a woman President. . . . Well sir, that's the morning I want to
oversleep. Yes siree.
I know my wife won't tell her right age. Last week was the
anniversary of her birthday; she was twenty-six for the twelfth time.
No wonder everybody says she holds her age well. But there's one
person she couldn't fool; that's the census-taker. She has to tell him
her right age or go to jail. But my wife got the best of him alright.
She asked him did the Hill sisters who live next door give their age?
And he said, "They certainly did." And she said, "Well, I'm just as
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 422
old as they are!" and the census-taker wrote down that my wife was
as old as the Hills. Yes siree.
My wife is a frail little creature. She weighs 300 pounds. That's
two pounds less than a horse. I'll never forget the day of our
wedding. No siree. The minister looked her over and then turned
to me and said, "Are you doing this of your own free will?" and
Truck 6 said, "I'd like to hear him say he isn't." Then the minister
said, "This don't look like an even match to me. You are giving
away too much weight/7 Then he pronounced us man and wives.
All the women started to cry, too. None of my folks attended the
wedding; they said they wanted to remember me as I was in life.
Yes siree. My wife comes from good stock. Her father is a fine old
German; his name is Shamus O'Brien. He said his daughter was
too good for me. I didn't know what he meant until I had my first
scrap with her. Then I found out he was right. Yes siree.
On my way to the theater I wanted a bite to eat so I walked
into a restaurant and I ordered two eggs. When the waiter "brought
them to me he opened one of them and said, "Shall I open the
other one?" I said, "No, open a window." Then I ordered cocoa
and when he brought it I said, "Waiter, my cocoa's cold.7' And he
said, "Put your hat on and it won't be cold." Then I said, "Have
you frogs' legs?" and he said, "No, my corns make me walk this
way/7 I never was so disgusted with a waiter in all my life. No
siree. Coming out of the restaurant I felt a little thirsty, so I walked
into a saloon. I said, "Bartender, give me two glasses of beer/' I
drank one glass and started to walk out when the bartender said,
"Say, mister, you didn't pay for your drinks." I said I only drank
one beer and I left the other one to settle. The laugh was certainly
on him. Yes siree.
While walking down the street I met a little boy. I don't believe
he was over eight years old. He looked very bright so I said to him,
"Young man, I'll bet you don't know how many letters there are
in the alphabet?" And the little fellow looked up and said, "I'll
bet you that you don't know how many letters there are in the
post office." Well sir, he had me there. Yes siree.
I noticed that you folks have been looking at my diamond ring;
two more payments and it's mine. Yes siree. Well I feel a song
coming on, I will sing a little song entitled, "Mama, Get the
Hammer, There's a Fly on Baby's Head/' All right, Professor.
{After Song— Exit)
THE MAN AND WOMAN ACT 423
The Man Woman Act
Street Scene ... in One. Enter at opposite sides of stage and as
Man approaches Woman, he tips his hat and sort of flirts with
woman.
w. (Angrily) What do you mean by tipping your hat to me? You
don't know me.
This is my brother's hat; he knows you. Say, you know I like
you.
Is that so?
I sort of have a "heart" affection for you.
Have you had it "lung"?
Oh yes. And I feel I will "liver" troubled life without you.
Then you better "asthma."
Say7 you're a pretty smart girl. What's your name?
Helen Summer.
What is it in winter?
Oh, a pretty smart fellow, eh?
How old are you?
Sixteen.
How old?
I've told you twice, sixteen.
Oh, twice sixteen; that's more like it.
Oh, a pretty smart fellow eh? Where were you going just now,
Tom?
How did you know my name was Tom?
Oh, I just guessed it.
Then guess where I'm going.
Oh, a pretty smart fellow, eh?
I'm very smart. You can ask me any question about the sea.
Is that so? Well, why don't fish have a good time?
You're wrong. Fish have a very good time.
Yes? How do you make that out?
Didn't you ever hear of -fish balls?
Pretty smart. Now tell me where you were really going?
M.
w.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W,
M.
W.
M.
W,
M.
W.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 424
M.: I was going down to the depot to meet my friend's mother-in-
law. He promised to give me a dollar if I meet her.
w.: Supposing she doesn't come?
M.: Then he promised to give me two dollars.
w.: You talk like you are against marriage.
M.: No, I'm up against it. (Someone applauds in audience) There's
another poor fellow in the same boat.
w.: The way you talk you'd think everybody out there is against
marriage.
M. : Well, most of them are.
w.: Oh, that's preposterous.
M.: I'll prove it to you. You take one side of the house and I'll
take the other.
w.: Alright. I'll take these lovely ladies and gentlemen down here.
(She points to the orchestra)
M.: Alright, I'll take the boys up on the shelf. (Points to gallery)
Those are my boys. I used to be a newsboy right in this
neighborhood.
w.: Don't you know that a good wife is the most unselfish creature
in the world? Why, every minute that her husband's awake
she tries to help him. (To audience) Am I right, girls? (Wait
for applause)
M.: Yes7 and after he's asleep, she helps herself. (To gallery) Am
I right, boys? (Wait for applause)
w.: The very idea. Why, woman is the soul of honor. (To audi-
ence] Am I right, girls? (Wait for applause)
M.: Yes, and she's made many a heel out of a guy. (To gallery)
Am I right, boys? (Wait for applause)
w.: Why, my boy, woman is a gold mine. You never know her true
value. (To audience) Am I right, girls? (Wait for applause)
M.: Yeh, and there's many a sucker went broke prospecting. (To
gallery) Am I right, boys? (Wait for applause)
w.: A woman will stick to you through thick and thin. (To audi-
ence) Am I right, girls? (Wait for applause)
M.: Yeh7 and the longer she sticks, the thinner you get. (To gal-
lery) Am I right, boys? (Wait for applause)
w.: You're positively insulting. I wish God made me a man.
M.: Maybe he did and you haven't found him yet.
w,: Enough of this. (Turns away in disgust)
THE MAN AND WOMAN ACT 425
M. (To gallery) Well, boys, looks like we won. (Watt, as there
should be more applause on this)
Come to think of it, didn't I see you come out of the barroom
w.
M.
w,
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
W.
M.
7
yesterday?
Well, 1 had to come out sometime.
Don't you know that every time you go into a barroom the
Devil goes in with you?
Well, if he does he will have to buy his own drink.
How did you get so drunk?
I didn't know what I was doing.
Why didn't you know what you were doing?
You see, I was under the influence of liquor when I started.
Say, do you know there is something I like about you?
( Coyly ) Yes? What is it?
(Placing arm around her waist) My arm. Will you marry me?
(Laughing heartily) Marry you? Why you're a joke.
(Mimicking woman's laughter) Can't you take a joke? Come
on, be a sport, give us a kiss.
(Indignantly) Why, I don't even know you.
Well, I'm taking as many chances as you are. Give us a kiss.
Don't you know some terrible things can be caught from kiss-
ing?
Sure. You should see the poor fish my sister caught. Come on,
marry me.
Ha. The man I marry must be straight, upright, and grand.
Say, you don't want a man, you want a piano.
I don't think I'll ever marry, I love my automobile too much.
(To audience) Another case of man being replaced by mach-
inery. (Back to her) Come on, marry me. Don't you think you
can marry a man like me?
w.: (Hesitatingly) Why ... yes ...
M.: (To audience) Oh boy, I have won her at last,
w.: That is if he wasn't too much like you. (Laughs) Anyway, I
wouldn't marry a man unless he was able to wheel a baby
carriage. Can you wheel a baby carriage?
M.: I ought to. I spent two years in Wheeling, West Virginia,
w.: That's great.
M.: We're all great in our family. My old man was a great man.
w.: What did your father ever do that was great?
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 42S
M.: (Turning around like a model jar clothes] Look me over, kid,
look me over.
w. What do you do for a living?
M- I'm a director for a railroad,
w. Is that so? So you're a director for a railroad?
M. Yeh, I stand at the depot and direct people where to go. By
the way, did you know that the cars were going to issue clothes-
pins instead of transfers?
w.: What's the idea?
M,: Because clothespins are good on any line. Aw, come on and
marry me.
w.: Why you don't even know how to propose.
M.: Is that so? Why I know how anybody in any line would pro-
pose,
w.: Alright, I'll try you. What would an undertaker say when he
proposes?
M.: He'd say, I'm dead in love with you.
w.: That's very good. How would a jeweler propose?
M.: Why he'd say, Darling, you are my pearl of creation,
w.: Now here's a hard one. How would a sailor propose?
M.: That is a tough one. (Thinks a minute] I got it. He'd say,
Let me be the captain of your ship and we can brave all the
storms of life together,
w.: Well, you are pretty smart. I think you must have had a lot
of experience. Didn't I see you buying a cradle the other day?
What made you do that?
M.: Oh, I just did that for a kid. Come on, give us a kiss,
w.: You know I'm a good girl.
M.: Do you know where all the good little girls go to when they
die?
w.: Why, they go to Heaven.
M.: That's right. And do you know where all the bad little girls
go?
w.: Why no, where do all the bad little girls go?
M.: They go down to the depot to meet the traveling salesmen
when they come in.
w.: Pretty smart, eh?
M.: Say, will you meet me tonight at the post office? I'll take you
out to see a movie,
w.: What time shall I meet you?
THE SCHOOL ACT 427
M.: If I get there first, I'll make a chalk mark,
w.: Ah? but supposing I get there first?
M.: Ah, then you rub it out.
(Finish Act with Song and Dance and do a few jokes while
dancing)
The School Act
SCENE: Schoolroom with desks and seats. Teacher's desk stage
Left. Blackboard on walls with funny pictures of teacher on it,
tick-tack-toer etc. etc.
CAST:
Percy Harold— SISSY
Jqsse James— TOUGH
Tony — ITALIAN
Gladys Urnpah— LISPING GIRL
Skinny Jones— FAT BOY
Abey Maloney Goldstein— JEWISH BOY
Rastus Johnson— COLORED BOY
IT RISE: TEACHER, who is a Dutchman with chin piece, Prince
Albert coat, small brown derby hat, enters with books under
his arm. Music plays "Schooldays" until he picks up large bell
on his desk and rings it. Then music fades out as PERCY
HAROLD enters.
PERCY: (Singing) La La La La ...
TEACHER: That must be one of the girls.
PERCY: Oh, you go on.
tEACHER: I'm the new teacher. Vot's the meaning of dis la la la la
business?
PERCY: It's none of your business.
TEACHER: Oh, ist dot so? I am going to make it some of my busi-
ness. Where ist the rest of my pimples?
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 428
PERCY: Downstairs playing a game of pinochle, teacher.
TEACHER: Pigsnuckles, eh? What a fine bunch dis must be. I'll
bring the rest of 'em here. (Rings bell Pupils rush in like a
football team, grab teacher's hat, and throw it around as if
it was a football. TEACHER gets all excited chasing them etc.]
Say, what do you think dis ist, a feetball game?
TOUGH: Hey mug, I'm in.
TEACHER: I'm glad oft dot. Where voss you?
TOUGH: Downstairs playin a game of ping-pong.
TEACHER: Stick out your hand. (TOUGH does so and TEACHER hits
him over the head with umbrella] Zit down. The pimples will
please be seated. We will open up the class wit singing the
national antem. (Everybody sings "How Dry I Am") Dot voss
nice. Now I will open the school by calling the roll.
PERCY: Oh, teacher.
TEACHER: Vos ist the madder wit you, you sick?
PERCY: We had them this morning for breakfast.
TEACHER: Vot did you have for breakfast?
PERCY: Nice Vienna Rolls.
TEACHER: Who said anything about Vienna Rolls? I mean rolls the
names of the pimples, vot ist here in school. The first name ist
Percy Harold.
PERCY: Here teacher.
TEACHER: Tony Baccicolupe.
TONY: Here I am, boss.
TEACHER: Gladys Umpah.
GLADYS: (Lisping) I'm here, teacher.
TEACHER: Skinny Jones.
SKINNY: Can't you see I'm here?
TEACHER: Rastus Johnson.
RASTUS: Here too. Here too, teacher.
TEACHER: Abey Maloney Goldstein.
ABEY: I'm in the place.
TEACHER: What's the idea of Maloney in the middle of your name?
ABEY: I use it for protection.
TEACHER: Jesse James.
TOUGH: Couldn't come today.
TEACHER: Don't say you couldn't come when you are sitting here.
And face about, vot you think, I can talk to the front of your
THE SCHOOL ACT
face behind your back? Veil, I am glad all the pimples are pres-
ent. Ve vill start with the first lesson this morning in geography.
EVERYBODY: Oh.
TEACHER: Cut it oud. Oh, 1st not in the lessons. Vot ist an island?
TONY: An island is a pimple on the ocean.
TEACHER: No, it's no pimple on the ocean. Stick out your hand.
(Hits TONY over head with umbrella)
PERCY: I know, teacher.
TEACHER: You're so smart, what ist an island?
PERCY: An island is a keg of beer surrounded by (local) policemen.
TEACHER: Hold out your hand. (Hits him on head with umbrella)
Say, tough mug, name me some of the principal oceans.
TOUGH: Atlantic and Pacific.
TEACHER: Dem's not oceans, dem's a tea company.
TOUGH: Oh, you mean oceans. Alright, Montreal, New Hampshire,
and Sigel and Coopers.
TEACHER: Dem's not oceans, dem's mountains.
TONY: You mean oceans? I got a notion in my head.
TEACHER: (Hitting TONY on. head with umbrella) Now you got
water on the brain. Just for dot, Tony, you gotta sing a song.
(TONY sings a song. After song by TONY) Dot vos very nice, Tony.
Now Skinny, vot ist a cow?
SKINNY: My mother.
TEACHER: Vot its dot foolishness? Vot makes you say your mama's
a cow?
SKINNY: I heard my daddy say to her this morning, "You're as big
as a cow."
TEACHER: A cow ist an animal with four legs, one on each corner.
Now Gladys, can you tell me the use of cowhide?
GLADYS: Sure I can. It keeps the cow together.
TEACHER: Now pimples, can anyone tell me the greatest invention
in the world?
SKINNY: The telephone.
GLADYS: The automobile.
TONY: The radio.
PERCY: The airplane.
TEACHER: You are right, poys and girls. They were great inventions.
ABEY: Say teacher, the fellow dot invented interest was no slouch.
TEACHER: Just for that ve will have a dance by Rastus Johnson.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 430
(JOHNSON does a dance. After dance) Dot voss very goot. Now
for the spell-ink lesson.
EVERYBODY: I-N-K.
TEACHER: I didn't say ink. I don't mean ink vots here in the ink
well, I mean spell-ink vot ist here in the book. Jesse James, how
do you spell giraffe?
TOUGH: G-I-R-A-F-E.
TEACHER: In the dictionary they spell it with two /s.
TOUGH: Well7 you ast me how did I spell it.
TEACHER: Put your hand out. (Hits him on head with umbrella)
Tony, make for the teacher a sentence mit the word delight on
the inside.
TONY: The wind blew so hard it blew out de light.
TEACHER: Yes, and I'll blow out your light. Cut out dese nonsense.
Ah, dere's a goot vord— nonsense. Skinny, give me an example
of nonsense.
SKINNY: An elephant hanging over a cliff with his tail tied to a
daisy.
TEACHER: Just for that you will haf to sing a song. (SKINNY sings.
After song) Dot voss very goot. Vot ist the great American
desert?
EVERYBODY: Prunes.
TEACHER: Abey, can you tell me where Pittsburgh ist?
ABEY: They are playing in Chicago.
TEACHER: Percy, when was Rome built?
PERCY: At night.
TEACHER: Who told you dot?
PERCY: You said Rome wasn't built in a day.
TEACHER: Put out your hand. (Hits him on head with umbrella.
Sees RASTUS raising his hand) Vot do you want, Rastus?
RASTUS: I want to leave de room.
TEACHER: No. You stay here and fill up the ink wells. Gladys, vot
ist the opposite of misery?
GLADYS: Happiness.
TEACHER: Dot's right. Now Abey, tell me vot ist the opposite of
woe?
ABEY: Giddap. (Puts head out to get hit with umbrella)
TEACHER: Has anybody else got any questions?
TOUGH: Yeh, what time is it?
THE STORYTELLER 431
TEACHER: I'll show you vot is it. (Goes after him; pupils all go
after teacher — free-for-all fight) Veil, if you don't let me be tlie
teacher I may as veil be one of the gang. School ist over, boys
and girls . . . Now let's sing and dance. (Finish with everybody
singing and dancing as Curtain descends)
The Storyteller
Enter to Music which Dies down as You start speaking. Costume
should consist of Prince Albert coat, striped trousers, and puffed
tie. If you can not obtain these clothes, a plain business suit can
be worn.
(Laughingly) We have a colored girl working for us at our house
and her name is Mandy Brown. Well, the other evening she came
home all excited. '"What's the idea of all the joyousness, Mandy?"
I asked her. "Why, I'se goin to git married/' said Mandy. "Why
Mandy, I didn't even know you had a beau," said I. "I ain't
exactly had one, Mister (use your name here), but you know the
fun-ral Fse went to last week; well, I'se goin to marry the corpse's
husband. He says I was the life of the fun'ral." (This should be
done with a Negro dialect when coming to the colored girl's part
of the conversation, and in your own natural voice when doing
the straight stuff)
Which reminds me of the time my friend Si Slimkin from up in
Maine came to New York. When he landed in the Big City, the
first thing he noticed were some laborers digging up the streets.
He walked over to the excavation and looked down the deep hole
in the street, and could see some of the men working. (In rube
dialect) "Hey, there," shouted Si, "what are you doing down
there?" "Building the subway," came the answer from below.
(This should be done in Italian or Irish dialect) "How soon will
Pages Tom Out of Old Vaudeville 432
it be finished?" asked Si. "In five years/' they shouted back. "Well,
never mind, then. I'll take the elevated train/7 said Si as he walked
away.
I must tell you about my good friends, Pat and Mike. Mike was
sick in the hospital and Pat thought it was his duty to visit Mike
in the hospital and make him forget his pains by telling him funny
stories. Before going to the hospital Pat stopped off in a few thirst
emporiums and by the time he reached Mike's bedside he had a
nice brannigan on. When he finally reached the hospital and got
to Mike's side he told him a story of what happened to him at
church the past Sunday. "Ah/7 sighed Mike, "will you tell me
that story again?" Pat repeated the story. "Would ye mind leaning
over a bit, Pat, me hearing ain't what it used to be, and tell me
that story again," said Mike. And Pat repeated the same story
again. "Tell it again," begged Mike, and after Pat told the same
story a dozen times, he said to Mike, "Mike, that story ain't so
good as to be worth me tellin it to ye so many times, is it?" "Sure
it ain't the story," sez Mike, "it's your breath that is like a whiff
from Heaven." (This story should be told -with two different Irish
voices. A thin voice for Pat and a deep voice JOT Mike, or vice
versa]
And speaking about Mike reminds me of the time he sent his
young daughter Bridget to Sunday school for the first time. Mike
instructed her in case the teacher should ask her some questions.
Mike said, "Now, Bridget, if the teacher asks your name, say
Bridget Doolan. If she asks you how old you are, say seven years
old. And if she asks you who made you, say God made me." Well
sir, when Bridget got to Sunday school and was questioned by the
teacher, she made the correct responses to all the questions until
the teacher asked her who made her and she answered (in a kid's
voice], "Papa told me his name, but I've forgotten."
I believe I'll lay off the Irish and tell you a story about my old
friend Ikey Cohen. Ikey was a pretty rich man and he was showing
his daughter the family jewels that were kept in a large trunk at
the house. The daughter was admiring a particularly valuable neck-
lace when two burglars rushed in, brandished revolvers, and car-
ried the trunk out of the door. "Oy, Oy," shouted Cohen. "Gone,
our jewelry is gone. Everything is lost." "Not everything, Papa/'
said his daughter Sadie. "Look, I still have the pearl necklace."
"Sadie, mine child, you saved the pearls. How did you manage to
THE DRAMATIC SKETCH 433
do it?" "Easy, Papa," said Sadie. 'When the burglars came in, I
just put the necHace down and sat on it." "Oy, Sadie/' sighed
Cohen, "if your mama was here we could have saved the whole
trunk/' (This story should be told in Hebrew dialect when the
Hebrew characters are speaking)
Ikey had a brother named Jake who went one evening to visit
his oldest sister, who was married and had young triplets. Before
Jake started for home a heavy storm blew up. "You can't go out in
this awful rain, Jake/' his sister said. "You'll get all wet. Better you
stay here tonight. You can sleep in the next room with the triplets."
So Jake did, and the next morning she asked him if he had a good
night's rest with the triplets. "Oy, I slept alright," said Jake, "but
I may as well have went home through the rain."
A few days ago my friend Bill Tomkins had a few drinks too
many and was driving down Broadway and in attempting to turn
around in the middle of the street was side-swiped and upset by
a hook-and-ladder truck. Walking over to Bill's overturned flivver,
a traffic officer poked his head through the window and said (in
Irish dialect), "What do you mean by blocking traffic like this?
Come outta there, you're pinched." (Speaking as if you re under
the influence of liquor; muss your hair up a little) "Shay, offisher/"
sez Bill, "how did I know them drunken painters were going to
run into me?" (Hie.) (Rearrange hair and bow as music plays
"Auld Lang Syne" for Exit)
Tlte Dramatic Sketch
SCENE: A richly furnished drawing room with French doors center
. „ . leading out to small balcony. The room contains a book-
case (with books), a sideboard with decanter and glasses on it.
A few big easy chairs. A flattop desk (stage Left) with papers
and law books on it. Chair at desk is directly in front of a radi-
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 434
ator, and a small piece of the steam pipe is shown leading off
into another room.
AT RISE: JUDGE DEBECK is discovered seated at desk working over
some papers. MRS. DEBECK is seated (stage Right) in a large easy
chair, with -floor lamp shining on her. She has a work basket in
her lap, and is sewing.
JUDGE: (Looking up from his work) Dear, you will hurt your eyes
sewing so much. Why don't you go to bed? It's very late.
MRS.: 1 think you're right, Tom. I didn't notice it was so late. How
about you, will you be finished soon?
JUDGE: In a little while, dear.
MRS.: Still on that Logan case?
JUDGE: Yes. It comes up in the morning.
MRS.: Tom, in the years we have been together I have never dis-
cussed any case with you on which you had to render a decision.
But somehow I feel this boy is innocent.
JUDGE: I guess you are interested in the case because the boy has
the same name as you have. I admit it's all circumstantial evi-
dence against him, and I also believe that . . . (Pauses) But
look here, my dear . . . this is unethical. A judge discussing a
case before him. (Laughs) I'll have to fine myself for contempt
of court. (Gets up and goes over to her and kisses her)
MRS.: Will you try and come home early tomorrow?
JUDGE: Why certainly. You think I have forgotten that tomorrow
is our third anniversary?
MRS.: You're a dear. You never forget. Are you happy, Tom?
JUDGE: The happiest man in the world. And are you happy, dear?
MRS.: It's been one continuous honeymoon. It doesn't seem like
three years to me; it's more like three days.
JUDGE: You remember me when I courted you?
MRS.: (Laughingly) I'll never forget it, I was working as a tele-
grapher at a little railroad station back home and you came in
to send a wire.
JUDGE: Yes, it was a case of love at first sight. I thought it was
funny for one so young and . . . pretty to be a telegrapher,
MRS.: Those were grand days when you were courting me, I taught
you the Morse Code and when you were sitting on the bench in
court, and I would watch you so proudly, you would tap out love
messages to me with your pencil on the desk, "Do you love me?"
THE DRAMATIC SKETCH 435
and I would nod yes, and nobody knew that the honorable
judge was making love while listening to a case. (They both
laugh)
JUDGE: I was saving this surprise for you for tomorrow, but it's
after midnight now so it's practically tomorrow. Here . . .
(He takes out a beautiful pearl necklace -with a locket attached
to it and puts it around her neck]
MRS.: Oh, it's beautiful. You took my mother's locket and had a
pearl chain made for it. Oh, this is a surprise. (Kisses him) I
have a surprise for you too, Tom. (Goes to sewing basket and
takes out something) Now, close your eyes until I count three.
(He closes his eyes) One . . . Two . . . Three. (He opens his
eyes and she holds up small baby's shirt)
JUDGE: (Looking in amazement) Oh darling! (Hugs and kisses
her) I've always wanted a son to carry on my work and my
name.
MRS.: Maybe that is why I am so interested in that Logan boy.
When I have a son, I wouldn't want him to get into any trouble.
JUDGE: Well, dear, you'd better go to bed. You must be very tired.
Good night.
MRS.: Good night, dear, and please, dear, don't stay up too late.
(Kisses him and exits)
(The JUDGE returns to his papers on desk. We see a flashlight
on the outside of balcony leading to the French doors. As the
JUDGE is engrossed in his worfe, door opens and MAN enters with
gun in his hand)
MAN: Hold steady, Judge. I wanna talk to you.
JUDGE: (Looking up) A burglar.
MAN: No, I'm no burglar. I'm Bill Logan's father. I come to talk
to you about my boy.
JUDGE: Does one usually come to a man's house with a gun in his
hand to talk?
MAN: That's the only way I could get to you. They've refused to
let me see you, so I took this means. You mustn't send my boy
away, Judge.
JUDGE: My good man, this is no place to discuss this case . . .
MAN: But it's all circumstantial evidence. I tell you, my boy didn't
do it.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 436
JUDGE: They found the gun in his room, also a bloody handker-
chief with his initials ...
MAN: I tell you he met a man and it was he that did the shooting
and threw the gun and handkerchief in iny boy's room. My boy
is innocent!
JUDGE: Then how do you account for the initials on the handker-
chief?
MAN: He had the same initials as my boy's, his name is Ben
Landau.
JUDGE: That's where your case is weak. Why don't you produce
the man?
MAN: Because we can't find him. He has disappeared . . .
JUDGE: Well, you will have to leave. I can't discuss this matter any
further. (While the JUDGE has been talking he has been tapping
with his pencil on steam pipe) Justice will be done.
MAN: Listen, I'd rather commit murder than see my boy sent up
for something he didn't do. Justice! (With a sneer.) You don't
know the meaning of the word. Sending an innocent boy to the
chair. I wish your boy gets a deal like this some day. I tell you
this is driving me crazy. I'll kill you and then shoot myself. I
can't live to see my boy disgraced. (He acts crazily. POLICEMAN
enters behind MAN with gun in his hand)
OFFICER: Drop that gun. I've got you covered. (MAN drops gun
and turns around. As COP picks up gun, MAN drops. MRS. DEBECK
enters and runs to JUDGE)
MRS.: Are you hurt, dear?
JUDGE: No. So you got my message?
MRS. Yes. I was getting ready to go to bed when I heard your
message over die steam pipe, and I phoned the police and Officer
Grogan came right away,
OFFICER: What do you want done with him, Judge?
JUDGE: I think you had better put Mr. Logan under observation;
the strain has been too much for him.
MRS.: Mr. Logan? Is this . . . ?
JUDGE: Yes, the boy's father.
MRS.: Wait a minute. You look very tired, Mr. Logan. Sit down.
(She sits him down and goes to sideboard and gets him a drink)
Take it, Mr. Logan. It will do you good. It's just a little sherry.
MAN: Thank you, Mam. (Drinks and sees locket] Where did you
get that locket?
THE DRAMATIC SKETCH 437
MRS.: Why, this? (Points to locket) I got this from my mother
when I was a little girl.
MAN: (As if to himself) I have never seen one like it since. May I
see the inside?
MRS.: Why certainly. It's a picture of my mother. (Opens locket
and shows it to MAN)
MAN: (Excitedly] It's true. You come from Circle Leville?
MRS.: Why, yes.
MAN: Did you ever hear your mother talk about her brother Fred?
MRS.: Why yes, she had a brother Fred who ran away from home
years ago. They never did hear from him again.
MAN: I am Fred. . . .
JUDGE & MRS.: What? You are Fred Logan?
MAN: Yes. I got into a little scrape back home and ran away. I
went to the Klondike and made and lost a fortune. I got married
and drifted around all over the country. And then I heard my
sister—your mother— died, leaving a daughter. I came all the way
from the Coast to get the daughter, but I was too late. She had
been sent to an orphan asylum. On my way over there I was
hit by a truck and was laid up for nearly a year. When I got
out of the hospital the kid had been discharged from the orphan-
age and I couldn't find any trace of her.
MRS.: Tell me, how did you know about the locket?
MAN: You see, it was my mother's wedding present to your mother.
JUDGE: Officer, I don't think we'll need you. Have a drink?
OFFICER: I never take a drink when Fm on duty, your honor, and
anyway, I don't like sherry.
JUDGE: And Grogan, not a word about what happened here to-
night.
OFFICER: And sure I'm deaf and blind, your honor. I don't know
how I ever got on the police force. (Winks broadly) Good
night. (Exits)
MRS.: What will we do, Tom?
JUDGE: We'll fix all that in the morning. Don't worry, dear. ,
MAN: Then you mean my boy will be free?
JUDGE: A judge can't give his decisions outside the court, but to-
morrow you both come here and live with us.
MRS.: Oh, you're a darling. This is the greatest anniversary present
you could have given me.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 438
JUDGE: (During this talk has poured out a drink for the MAN and
himself. Raising glasses) I'm sure my boy would approve of this,
eh, Uncle Fred?
(All hold picture jor Curtain)
The Speech
(Enter dressed as old colored preacher, with large book under arm.
Old hotel register is best for this purpose, or else any large book
or even a phone book. Place book on table center stage, and face
audience from behind table, as if table is a pulpit.)
Brethern and Sistern, I have decided to divide my sermon in
three parts. The first part 111 understand and you won't. The
second part, you will understand and I won't. The third part no-
body will understand. You will notice I have arranged everything
in my sermon for simplicity. For in the first part, I tell you what
Frn going to tell you, and the second part I'll tell you, and in the
third part Til tell you what I has told you. (Bang open book
with hand)
Now, Brethern and Sistern, let's open the little red books and
sing (To music of "St. Louis Blues ) :
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
If the black gals don't get you
The high yallers must.
Very good, very good indeed. The subject of tonight's course
is Woman. The word woman is derived from the Latin by adding
woe to man, and she's been adding woe to man ever since. (Bang
book with open hand) Adam bit into the apple because he was
tempted by a peach, and man's troubles have been coming in pears
since. And although woman was evolved from man's rib, she re~
THE STUMP SPEECH 439
fused to be a side issue. (Bang book with open hand) Woman is
indeed a conundrum; she keeps us guessing and yet we hate to
give her up. A woman has twenty-four ribs and an umbrella has
thirty ribs, and yet see how much easier it is to shut up an
umbrella. And then again on a rainy day, a good wife is more likely
to remain at your side than an umbrella. (Bang book with open
hand — or umbrella) When I pick up a newspaper in the morning,
the first thing I look at is the engagements, then I look at the
marriages. And last of all the matrimonial squabbles. I like to see
who is being hooked, booked, and cooked. (Bang book with open
hand) There are thousands of farmers down South clamoring for
wives; they must be farmers or else they wouldn't be so anxious
to get married. I believe that lots of men would get married if
they only knew where to get good helpmates. Why doesn't some
big department store open up a wife department? Great idea.
Green trading stamps with every purchase and double trading
stamps with females over forty. (Bang book with open hand)
Customers at a distance could order wives by mail. Just send for
catalogue. If you want a young wife, look under peaches, if you
want an old maid, look under dried fruit. (Bang book with open
hand) Wives to suit every pocket. Even if they don't know much
about your pocket, they will soon get their hand in. Just pick out
the wife you want and the rest is easy. She'll be shipped by ex-
press to you. The box will be marked "Contents brittle and liable
to break— any man." (Bang book with open hand)
Women are not what they used to be; they used to be girls.
She's only a rag, a bone, and a hank of hair, but all the boys want
to become junk dealers. All women don't talk, some of 'em holler.
Women don't talk oftener than men, but they talk longer. (Bang
book with open hand) Can you imagine a barber trying to shave
a woman's chin? All he would have to do is to hold the razor to
the chin and she would talk so much that the chin would shave
itself. The greatest calamity I ever seen was a two-faced woman
who talked to herself and tried to have the last word. You never
can tell about women; even if you can, you shouldn't. (Bang book
with open hand) The best way to approach a woman with a past
is with a present. Women are like olives; you must get used to 'em.
As I said before, woman was made from man's rib, but today she
is usually made from something from the hip. I don't believe in
clubs for women; take an axe. All great temptations are circular in
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 440
form. A bottle is round; so are women's waists and garters. (Bang
book with open hand.)
Now, Brethern and Sistern, let's roll over, I mean turn over,
another page (turns page in book) and skip the next three pages
(does so) and see what it sez. A good wife is the sunshine of the
home. And a drunken husband is the moonshine of the home. All
women are good, but the wife is a little better, and when she
becomes a mother she is still better, all women are better still.
Some wives talk all the time, all wives talk some of the time, but
no wife talks none of the time. (Bang book with open hand) A
wife can either make or break a husband, she usually does one or
the other. Wife means a lot to some men, but some men are mean
to a lot of wives. What' s become of the old-fashioned wives?
They used to roll up their sleeves and go in to the kitchen; now
they roll up their stockings and go in the street.
Remember, folks, there is only one good wife in this town, and
every married man thinks he's got her. I don't believe in free love;
the cash and carry kind is the best. Fifty per cent of the people fall
in love— the rest of 'eni are either shoved or dragged into it. Re-
member, Brethern and Sistern, the sweetest love is a mother's, the
longest is a brother's, the dearest a man's love, and the sweetest,
longest, and dearest love — is a love for money. And speaking about
money, I will now pass around the contribution basket, but I wish
to call your attention that the basket is passed around for my
benefit; last time it was passed around I noticed one of the brothers
threw in five cents and took out eighty cents change, and the worst
part of it was that the nickel he threw in had a hole in it. (Bang
book shut . . . and walk off)
The Ventriloquist
SET: Interior in Two with Table and Chair, Center. Large drink-
ing glass, package of cigarettes, and bottle of liquor on table.
(This is Very Important) There is also a small box or trunk
stage Left
THE VENTRILOQUIST 441
Music plays Forte and Dies Down as Ventriloquist enters and
gets seated at table, with his dummy on his lap.
VEN.
TOM
galery)
VEN.
TOM
VEN.
TOM
VEN.
TOM
VEN.
VEN.
TOM
VEN.
r?
Well, Tommy, how are you feeling this morning?
I feel like the house. (DUMMY looking around and up at
7
And how's that?
Half full.
(Laughs] How have you been in school lately, Tommy?
Oh, I'm the head of the class.
Well, that's very nice. So you're the head of the class?
Yeh — when the recess bell rings. (Winks at audience)
I'll see how smart you are, young man. Do you know any-
th ng about geography?
TOM Gelolopi?
VEN. No, my boy, geography.
TOM Oh sure. I thought you said geography.
VEN. I did say geography. What is the shape of the world?
TOM It's in very bad shape.
VEN. Now quit your stalling. What is the shape of the earth?
TOM (Looks puzzled and mumbles to himself as ventriloquist
busies himself with some things on the table.) It's— it's oblong.
No. No. Why, any fool knows what the shape of the earth is.
?
Do you?
Why, certainly. (Catches the idea and pushes DUMMY, who
winks to audience) Now look, I will help you. Now what is the
shape of your father's cuff buttons?
TOM: Oh, that's easy. They're square.
VEN.: No, no. I don't mean the ones he wears on week days, I
mean the ones he wears on Sundays.
TOM: Oh, the Sunday ones, they're round.
VEN. : That's right. Now, what's the shape of the earth?
TOM: Square on week days and round on Sundays.
VEN.: (Pushes DUMMY) The very idea.
TOM: Why, ain't that right?
VEN. : What did you say?
TOM: I said, ain't that right?
VEN.: Ain't? I'm surprised at you. Don't you know that isn't very
good English? Ain't. Why, where's your grammar?
TOM: She's home with my grandfather.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 442
YEN.: By the way, Tommy, how are things at your house?
TOM: Say, did you know we had a goat at our house?
VEN.: Now, Tommy, you aren't going to tell me that old one about
the goat that hasn't any nose?
TOM: Oh, this one has a nose.
VEN.: Then it's the one about the goat that has four legs that reach
the ground?
TOM: No, this is a goat we sleep with.
VEN.: You mean to sit there and tell me you sleep with a goat?
TOM: (Mocking VENTRILOQUIST) Yeh, that's what I mean to tell
you.
VEN.: Well, how can you stand it?
TOM: Oh, he's getting used to it.
VEN.: (Aside) He's getting used to it. The very idea.
TOM: And did you know we had two barrels of whisky in our cellar
and some Democrat stole one of them?
VEN.: How did you know it was a Democrat that stole one of
them?
TOM: 'Cause if it was a Republican he'd a stole both of 'em.
VEN.: By the way, what is your father, a Republican or a Demo-
crat?
TOM: He is a Democrat.
VEN. : What are you?
TOM: Well, my father is a Democrat so I'm a Democrat.
VEN.: Supposing your father was a horse thief?
TOM: Then I'd be a Republican.
VEN.: I have to hand it to you, Tommy. You're a pretty smart lad.
TOM: Oh sure, my father and I are the smartest people in the
world.
VEN.: How do you make that out?
TOM: Because between my father and me we can answer any ques-
tion you might ask.
VEN.: Is that so. Well, who is going to be our next President?
TOM: (In deep thought for a minute) Well, that's one of the
questions my father can answer.
SAM.: (Negro voice from small box) Let me out. Let me out (The
VENTRILOQUIST and TOMMY look toward the box)
TOM: The naigur wants to get out.
VEN.: Why, I'm surprised at you calling him a naigur. His name
is Sambo. He is the same kind of a little man that you are; only
THE VENTRILOQUIST 443
he is of the colored race, and you are of the white race. In fact
we all belong to the human race. (DUMMY laughs) What are
you laughing at, the human race?
TOM: Yeh. (Ha, ha? ha) You're not in it.
YEN.: Just for that you sit here and I'll get Sambo. (Sits TOMMY
down and goes over to the small box, or trunk, gets SAMBO out,
then places him on one knee and TOMMY on the other)
TOM: (To SAMBO) Hello, eight ball.
SAM.: Hello, Irish. (Fight starts)
YEN.: Here, boys, if you don't stop your fighting I'll put you back
in the box.
TOM: If you do, how are you going to make a living?
YEN.: Oh, is that so? I'll have you understand I have a trade. I'm
a cooper.
TOM: A copper?
VEN.: No. No. A cooper. In fact, my father is a cooper too. Do you
know what a cooper is?
TOM: Yeh. What is it? (SAMBO laughs)
VEN.: A cooper is a man that puts heads on barrels. (TOM laughs)
What are you laughing at?
TOM: (Still laughing) You say your old man is a cooperer?
VEN, : Why yes.
TOM: Well, he certainly put a bum head on you.
VEN.: I'll have you understand I have something in my head.
TOM: Yeh, I noticed it. You better take something to kill Jem.
(SAMBO laughs) What is ink spot laughing at?
SAM.: My pappy. The other night we were going to have company
in the house.
TOM: You don't live in a house, you live in a tree.
VEN.: Keep quiet, Tommy. Go ahead, Sarnbo.
SAM.: We were going to have company in our house and Pappy
started scratching his head and I said, "Guess the company has
arrived/'— so we had to kill the company.
TOM: Do you know the trunk I travel in?
VEN.: Why yes.
TOM: Well, coming to the theater the expressman threw me
around something terrible.
VEN.: He did?
TOM: I'll say he did.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 444
YEN.: Why didn't you give him a piece of your mind? In other
words, why didn't you talk hack to him?
TOM: How could I when you were at the hotel? (Winks at audi-
ence as VENTRILOQUIST acts embanassed)
VEN.: Now, that will do. I want you boys to sing a song.
TOM: You mean both of us?
YEN.: Yes, you and Sambo. I want you, Sambo, to sing like your
little sister sings, you know, soprano. And you Tommy, sing alto.
TOM: Hey, let me whisper something in your ear.
VEN.: (Puts TOMMY to his ear and acts as if TOMMY is whispering
something to him) Why no, of course not. I don't want you
both to sing at the same time.
TOM: I thought not. (Winks at audience)
VEN.: I want you to sing one line and Sambo the other.
SAM.: Yas sir. What you all gonna be doing while we're singing?
VEN,: Why, I will smoke a cigarette, eat a banana, and drink a
large glass of whisky.
TOM: We got to do all the work while you have a good time?
VEN,: Now, that's enough from you. Go ahead.
TOM: (Looks at leader) Alright, Professor.
(Orchestra Plays Introduction of ''Schooldays.7')
VEN.: Go ahead and sing. (He starts choking a little and wipes
mouth with handkerchief)
TOM: How can we sing when you're choking?
VEN.: Go ahead. (Sing "Schooldays" and finish walking off with
heads removed from DUMMIES)
Tbe Double Dot ell Act
The Team consists of a STRAIGHT MAN and a COMEDIAN. The
STRAIGHT MAN should be tall and wear a large-checkered suit, with
the coat short and with large pearl buttons. He wears a small brown
derby hat, large collar, loud tie, big squeaky tan shoes. The COME-
THE DOUBLE DUTCH ACT 445
DIAN has a "belly pad17 -which makes him look short and real fat.
He -wears a wide-striped suit, flat-brown derby, large shoes. They
both wear chin pieces.
Open with a popular song, of which they only sing the Chorus;
on last few notes they strike bum harmony as the orchestra plays
a discord.
BOTH: (Shaking hands) By golly, dot vos alright.
S.M.: Hey Miller, I hear your uncle vot ain't dead yet left you a
lot of money.
COMIC: (Showing big roll of bills) Sure, here 'tis.
S.M.: Vot are you going to do mit it?
COMIC: I don't know. I dink I'll sell it to somebody.
S.M.: Don't do dot. I got a idea. Let's open a restaurant mit it.
COMIC: Vot? I put in all dot money and vot do you did?
S.M.: Vy, don't you sees it? I vill let you be the vaiter and I vill
be the boss. Dot vay you get all the money and the tips, vot
comes in first, den all you have to do ist to hand it to me.
COMIC: Py Gollies, dot listens easy. How much costs it to open
this dump?
S.M.: Veil, how much have you got?
COMIC: All I got ist $60,000.
S.M.: Dot's hardly enough but I think it will do to staht mit.
COMIC: Oh. Ve could staht someding mit it, by golly.
S.M.: Now, do you dink you can be a schvell vaiter?
COMIC: They couldn't make 'em any schveller.
S.M.: Goot. Ve vill now open the restaurant.
COMIC: Goot. Here ist where ve eat. I luv to eat. Excuse Phillip
till he moves in. (Pushes S.M. aside)
S.M.: Don't push. Now dis ist a schvell caf6 und you are a hand-
some vaiter. Now, ven a schvell lady comes in, vot do you do?
COMIC: Vy, I rush oud and get a schvell vaiter.
S.M.: No, no. You are a schvell vaiter. Now I vill be a schvell lady.
I am coming to eat somedings. Get ready.
COMIC: Business ist now open. (STRAIGHT enters like a woman
would) Oh, vot a rotten shape.
S.M.: (As if talking to porter outside the door) John, gif my horse
a bucket of champagne und some strawberry shortcake.
COMIC: Oh, vot a schvell jackass dot ist. (Use "horse" if they don't
allow you to use "jackass")
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 446
S.M.: Und John, take the carriage to the insane asylum.
COMIC: Insane asylum?
S.M.: Yes, von of the wheels ist off its nut.
COMIC: Oh, he ist getting loose house.
S.M.: Vaiter, Vaiter,
COMIC: Yes sir, yes sir.
S.M.: Not yes sir to me, I'm a lady.
COMIC: Oh, git oud7 you ain't no lady, you're de boss.
S.M.: No, no, I ain't the boss no more.
COMIC: Oh, you quits?
S.M,: No, I didn't quits. I am de boss.
COMIC: Yes sir.
S.M.: I vos de boss, but now de boss ain't und de boss vot ist not,
ist now, vot am I?
COMIC: I dink you're a cockeyed liar. (Use "piece of cheese" if
they don't allow "cockeyed.7') Veil, vot do you vont to eat?
S.M.: I don't know. Give me the menu.
COMIC: De vot?
S.M.: De menu.
COMIC: I know you mean me. Vot do you vont?
S.M.: Menu.
COMIC: Mean me?
S.M.: Ven I say menu I don't mean you.
COMIC: Ach, vot do you mean?
S.M.: Menu. (Pointing to menu)
COMIC: Ach, de book.
S.M.: (Looking over menu) Hav you got any brains?
COMIC: Yes mam.
S.M.: Stop dot. Vot do you think I am, a fool?
COMIC: Yes mam.
S.M.: I am not a yes mam.
COMIC: Ain't you a lady?
S.M.; Yes mam. My Gott, you got me saying it, Now listen. I am
going to let you be the schvell lady und I vill be the vaiter und
I vill show you How to vait. Can you be a schvell lady?
COMIC: Yes mam.
S.M.: Can't you say anyding but yes mam?
COMIC: Yes mam.
S.M.: Den say it.
COMIC: No mam.
THE DOUBLE DUTCH ACT 447
S.M.: (AZZ excited) I vill choke all de yes mams and no mams out
of you. Now come into the cafe and act like a lady.
COMIC: Fll order some liver and milk.
S.M.: Goot evening, rnadame.
COMIC: 1st dis a restaurant?
S.M.: (Disgusted) 1st dis a restaurant? No, ist a sawmill. Vot did
you come in for, a haircut? Vy certainly it ist a restaurant. Go
oud und come in like a lady.
COMIC: Oh, like a lady?
S.M.: Goot evening, madame.
COMIC: Vy hello, boss.
S.M.: No. No. You are a schvell lady. I am not your boss, don't
you understand?
COMIC: Yes mam.
S.M.: You musn't say yes mam to a vaiter. You must treat me like
a dog.
COMIC: Oh I knock his eyes in.
S.M.: Goot evening, rnadame.
COMIC: Shut up, dog.
S.M.: Vot do you vont?
COMIC: None of your business.
S.M.: Vot are you going to have?
COMIC: I would like some fishes' eyebrows. How ist your eyebrows
today?
S.M.: Pretty goot, how's yours?
COMIC: Fine. Ist your kidneys alright too. Giv me one of your
kidneys and a couple of your pigs' feets.
S.M.: Vill you have them enfinanceree or encasserole?
COMIC: In castor oil?
S.M.: No. Not in castor oil. I said encasserole.
COMIC: (Bewildered) Hey, Phillip, vot should I say?
S.M.: Say it's immaterial.
COMIC: Vot kind of material?
S.M.: Don't you know vot immaterial means? Den I vill expire to
you. Now, for inkstands, you pick up a handful of mud mit de
juice oozing out.
COMIC: Juicy mud?
S.M.: Yeh.
COMIC: I couldn't do dot— I'm a lady.
S.M.: You do dot only for inkstands. You pick up the mud mit
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 448
your left hand, now ven you got dot handful of mud, close up
your hand like dis (Demonstrates) und you squeeze it. Now,
whether de mud comes oud of dese fingers or dose fingers it ist
immaterial.
COMIC: Now I sees it.
S.M.: Now you know vot immaterial ist?
COMIC: Sure.
S.M.: Vot is it, immaterial?
COMIC: A lady mit a handful of mud.
S.M.: (Chokes little fellow) Ach, you're too dumb to be a vaiter.
I'll make an opera singer oud of you.
(Cue for music. Both sing parody on opera— and exit)
The Dmible Wop Act
Both enter as music plays "My Mariutch She Take a Steamboat!7
STRAIGHT MAN walks a bit ahead of the COMEDIAN. They are both
dressed in misfit suits. Comedian has long mustache and bandanna
handkerchief around neck. Straight man wears celluloid collar, red
tie, big watch chain, yellow shoes that squeak, and is sort of sporty
in an Italian way.
STRAIGHT: Come ona—wassa madder— come ona. . . .
COMIC: Waita one minoots, I no can walka fast. My uncle isa sick.
STRAIGHT: Whatsa your uncle gotta to do wit you no walka fast?
COMIC: I tella you my uncle isa sick.
STRAIGHT: Your uncle isa sick?
COMIC: (A little angrily) Yeh, my uncle. (Points to ankle)
STRAIGHT: Oh, you meana ankles. Say, whatsa your name?
COMIC: My namesa Tom Giariba Idi Columbo Scabootcha Gas-
tella Mascrici, but day calla me Tom for short.
STRAIGHT: Well, Tom is no high classa. I will calla you Tommas.
COMIC: Say, my namesa Tom and you calls me Tommas?
THEDOUBLEWOPACT 449
STRAIGHT: Sure. Dots ahigh classa for Tom.
COMIC: I gotta brudder his namesa Jack. What you calla him,
Jackass?
STRAIGHT: Say, howsa your big brud Sylvest?
COMIC: Hesa nunga feela so good.
STRAIGHT: Wassa matter wid him?
COMIC: You know Sylvest hesa gotta big ship tattoed on hisa chest.
STRAIGHT: Yeh, I know.
COMIC: Well, de odera days a bigga man come up to my brudda
Sylvest and givea him onea punch on his chest and sank the ship.
STRAIGHT: Say, how manna kids you gotta 'em now?
COMIC: I gotta twelve bambinos.
STRAIGHT: All together?
COMIC: No, one at a time.
STRAIGHT: How many girls?
COMIC: Fivea girls.
STRAIGHT : And how many boys?
COMIC: Fivea boys.
STRAIGHT: Dats only ten kids.
COMIC: Fivea boys and fivea girls and two other kids. Mixem up.
STRAIGHT: You workin now?
COMIC: Sure Mike. Fm a politich in an auto factory.
STRAIGHT: What, you mean you're a politician in an auto factory?
COMIC: Sure, Fma assembly man.
STRAIGHT: I gotta a good job for you.
COMIC: What doin?
STRAIGHT: Manicurin boulevards.
COMIC: How mucha you pay?
STRAIGHT: Twenty-two dollars a week.
COMIC: Twenty-two dollars a week?
STRAIGHT: Yeh— two twos.
COMIC: Datsa nice. Whatsa the hours?
STRAIGHT: You start at eight in the morning and stop at six ata
night.
COMIC: Datsa too mucha work.
STRAIGHT: Okay. I makea it easier for you. You start at six anda
finish at eight.
COMIC: Datsa nice man. I go now and tella my friend at the city
hole.
STRAIGHT: Whatsa your friendsa name?
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 45°
COMIC: He livesa at the city hole, I nunga remember hisa name.
Hisa gotta name somethin like a horse.
STRAIGHT: You don't mean the mayor?
COMIC: Sure, datsa him, the Mare. He's a fine fellow. He invite
me to be a polar "bear,
STRAIGHT: You got invitaish to be a polar bear? You nunga can be
a polar bear.
COMIC: Sure, I gotta be a polar bear
STRAIGHT: You know whata polar bear is?
COMIC: No, but I gotta be one.
STRAIGHT: Listen— polar bear sits on ice and eatsa fish.
COMIC: Nunga foola me now.
STRAIGHT: Fma no foolin you. Wasa matter?
COMIC: You know my frienda Guiseppi? He died and hisa family
wanna me to be polar bear. I no sit on ice and eat fish for
nobody.
STRAIGHT: (Laughingly) You mean the pallbearer.
COMIC: Sure.
STRAIGHT: You are astronga man. You can be pallbearer.
COMIC: I'ma strong but my fadder he'sa bigga strong man.
STRAIGHT: Yeh?
COMIC: My fadder he taleesa two billiard balls, squeeza ?em to-
gether and makes talcum powder.
STRAIGHT: Youa stionga man, you wanna be a fighter?
COMIC: Sure Mike. Makea lotta money fighting.
STRAIGHT: First you gotta loin how to block a punch.
COMIC: Whata you mean block de punch?
STRAIGHT: I mean you gotta learn how to stop a blow.
COMIC: Datsa ease. When he hit me it stop himself.
STRAIGHT: Say, howsa your wife?
COMIC: My wifea and me fight alia the time likes United States
and Mexico.
STRAIGHT: What do you mean you and your wife fight like United
States and Mexico?
COMIC: We fighta on account de boarder.
STRAIGHT: Where isa your wife now?
COMIC: My wifesa in the country with pendicitus.
STRAIGHT: I tolda you she likes Greeks.
COMIC: And I nunga feel so good either, on account of my kid
niece.
THEDOITBLEWOPACT 451
STRAIGHT: You mean your sister's gal?
COMIC: Whosa talk about rny sister's gal? I say my kid niece, my
kid niece. (Points to kidneys)
STRAIGHT: Oh, you mean your kidneys.
COMIC: Sure. I say kid niece.
STRAIGHT: Where you liva now?
COMIC: I live on not-feeling-good street.
STRAIGHT: What you mean not-feeling-good street?
COMIC: I liva on sick street.
STRAIGHT: Your littlea girl Maria— how's she?
COMIC: She'sa bigga gal now. She'sa gonna geta de pluma.
STRAIGHT: She'sa gonna for de pluma? Wasa matter, your pipes
broke?
COMIC: Whatta you talka bout my pipes? I say my gal Maria she'sa
gonna getta de pluma.
STRAIGHT: Well if she'sa gonna getta de pluma somethin musta
be wrong witha de pipes.
COMIC: (Angrily) Listen. My little girl Maria goesa to school and
she's agonna getta de pluma.
STRAIGHT: Oh, you mean a diploma.
COMIC: Sure. Can't I understanda what I speak? Well, so long,
I'ma gonna get a drink.
STRAIGHT: Ain't you gonna treat me?
COMIC: No, I'ma gonna drinka myself.
STRAIGHT: You selfish.
COMIC: What?
STRAIGHT: I say you selfish.
COMIC: You crazy in the head. I no sell fish, I buy junk.
STRAIGHT: You drive me coconuts. What happened on the boat
the other day?
COMIC: Nunga hear? I was on de bigga boat and somethin hit it
and madea bigga hole in de front of de boat on the bottom,
an the water she com arushin in.
STRAIGHT: What did you do?
COMIC: I'ma smarta guy. I go down to the bottom of de boat and
makea another big hole in de backa of de boat.
STRAIGHT: Whata you do that for?
COMIC: When de water cornea in from the front, it goes out in de
back.
(Finish with parody of "Dorando.")
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 452
The Doable Irish Aet
MUSIC: Chorus of 4 "Wearing of the Green" played forte and fast.
Music dies out as STRAIGHT MAN enters. He wears a gray -woolen
suit, straight-tailed frock coat, high hat, red-haired wig partly
bald, and white gaiters. His face is made up with red nose, red
cheeks, and he wears "sluggers." He carries a heavy cane. As he
enters he pretends to be angry, looks off at entrance, and speaks.
PAT: The oidea of callin me a Tarrier. Why, a Spanyard can't walk
on the shtreet nowadays widout bein taken for a Mick or a
Tarrier. But there's nawthin but trouble in the wurrld. The other
day I bought a horse, and the man tould me he'd trot a mile in
two minits; and be heavens he could do it only fur wan thing —
the disthance is too much fur the toime. My wife and her mother
tuck the horse out fur a drive in the park the other day; the horse
ran away, the buggy upset, and my wife and mother-in-law war
thrun out and kilt. Now, ayther you belave me or not, more
than five hundret min have been after me thrying to buy that
horse. Well, while I'm waitin for me ould friend Mike Mc-
Carthy, I'll sing a bit of a song. (Sings)
"I'm Pat McGinnis
The Alderman, the Alderman.
I'm Pat McGinnis the Alderman so gay."
(Does a short dance and walks off)
COMIC enters opposite side. He is dressed in long-tailed frock
coat, high vest, short pantaloons, sort of baggy. He wears black
gaiters, carries a heavy short cane, and wears a squatty white
square-topped stiff hat. His make-up is sort of white with a least
bit of red on the nose, heavy eyebrows, and wears "Galway
Sluggers."
IVOKE: Now I'm a man can shtand a joak, but whin I go into a
barbershop on a Sunday mornin and the Nagur barber pins a
newspaper under my chin an hands me a towel to read, it's goin
a little too fur. The other mornin I intered a friend's salune.
THE DOUBLE IRISH ACT 453
There were grape shkins on the flure, an I sez to him, "How de
you do, Mr. Cassidy? I see you had a party last night." "What
makes you think so?" sez he. "Because I see the grape shkins
on the Sure/' sez I. "ThinVs not grape shkins," sez he. "Thim's
eyes. Some of the byes had a fight here lasht night and you're
now surveyin the battle field." But I was expectin Pat McGinnis,
a friend of mine, down here. Ah, here he comes now. (PAT
enters) Pat, how are you?
PAT: Fm well, Mike. What kept you so quick?
MIKE: Td been here sooner only I couldn't get down any later. Say
Pat, where did you go whin you left me tother night?
PAT: I wint down to the maskeerade bawl.
MIKE: I heard you was there. They put you out because you
wouldn't take off your mask after twilve o'clock.
PAT: But I didn't have any mask on. Sure it was me own face.
MIKE: That's what I told thim but they won't belave me.
PAT: How long can a man live without brains?
MIKE: I don't know. How ould are you now?
PAT: Say, Mike, do you know what a plate of hash is?
MIKE: Sure, a plate of hash is an insult to a square meal.
PAT: Thin you can shtand more insults than iny man I ever saw.
( Walks to other side of stage while MIKE remains center]
MIKE: Say, Pat, can you tell me the difference between you and a
jackass?
PAT: (Measuring distance to MIKE with his eyes) About twelve
foot.
MIKE: No, that's not the right answer.
PAT: Well, Fd like to know what is the difference between you
and a jackass?
MIKE: No difference. (Laughs and then gets the idea he pulled the
joke on himself. He throws down his hat and cane and "mugs"
until the audience stops laughing)
PAT: Did you hear about the big explosion down to the gas works?
MIKE: No. Anybody kilt?
PAT: Forty Eyetileians and one Irishman.
MIKE; Oh, the poor man.
PAT: An have you heard about McCloskey? He has lo-co-mo-tpr
at-taxi.
MIKE: Lit him have it. Fur my part Fd rather have a horse.
PAT: Hah, I jist noticed it.
Pages Tom Out of Old Vaudeville 454
MIKE: Noticed what?
PAT: The black eye, and where did you get it?
MIKE: Some dagoes called me an A.P.A,
PAT: Why the durty, black-hearted, murderin7 . . .
MIKE: Shhhh. Don't spake ill of the dead.
PAT: Say, Mike, what would you do if you had a million dollars?
MIKE: Sure fd put six inches more on me pick handle.
PAT: An how's your brother Dinny?
MIKE: Oh he's a foine lad. You know he had over 50,000 men
under him?
PAT: Fifty thousand? Sure he must be a great gineral.
MIKE: Noo, he was up in a balloon.
PAT: I'll niver forgit the time back in Ireland I saw a man chased
by the Black and Tans for five miles and when he came to a
river a mile wide he just jumped right over it. What do you
think of that?
MIKE: Sure that's nothin. Look at the shtart he had.
PAT: I don't want to talk to the loikes of you.
MIKE: Phwat's the mattei?
PAT: Iny man that will pour hot water down a hen's mouth to
make her lay boiled eggs, I have no opinion of.
MIKE: (Laughs heartily) Ha, ha7 ha, ha,
PAT: Phwat are you laughin at?
MIKE: I saw you try the same thing on a rooster.
(Finish act with song and Irish reel)
The Straight and the Jew
STRAIGHT MAN enters and sings a song. After the song, Shots are
heard off stage and JEW COMIC (with hat over ears, short beard,
and misfit suit) comes running out.
S.M,: Mr. Cohen, what are you running for?
COHEN: I'm trying to keep two fellows from fighting.
THESTRAIGHTANDTHEJEW 455
S.M.: Who are the fellows?
COHEN: An Irishman and me. (After laugh is over] Say, why don't
you pay me for that suit you got on?
S.M.: Well really, Mr. Cohen, I would pay you, only I haven't the
money.
COHEN: (Mocking STRAIGHT MAN) Yeh, I'd be a rich man, only I
ain't got the money. Can't you pay me something on the bill?
S.M.: How much do you want?
COHEN: Pd like enough to hire a lawyer to sue you for the balance.
S.M.: You're a pretty smart fellow. Are you good at spelling?
COHEN: You betcha my life I'm a good speller.
S.M.: I'll bet you that you can't spell needle.
COHEN: I'll bet you my life I can spell it.
S.M.: I won't bet you that.
COHEN: I'll bet you my whole family's life,
S.M.: No, I won't bet you that, but 111 tell you what I will do,
I'll bet you ten dollars that you can't spell needle.
COHEN: No siree. When it comes to betting money, that's another
matter.
S.M.: I'll try you anyway. How do you spell needle?
COHEN: N-I-E-D-L-E.
S.M.: You're wrong.
COHEN: I'm right.
S.M.: We will leave that to the leader. He looks like an intelligent
person. (Goes over to LEADER of the orchestra) You heard the
argument, George. Who is right?
LEADER: Why, you are, of course.
S.M.: (To COHEN) You see? (To LEADER) Do you smoke?
LEADER: Why, of course.
S.M.: (Takes cigar out of pocket) Well, here's a cigar. Try spelling
it again, Mr. Cohen.
COHEN: (Loofes at LEADER through the business of S.M. giving
LEADER cigar, etc. Is disgusted with LEADER when he says that
S.M. is right, after tries in vain with motions behind S.M/S back
to make the LEADER say that he is right) Alright, here I go again.
N-E-E-D-D-L. (Triumphantly) Now that's right.
S.M.: (Laughing heartily) Why no, that's worse than your first
attempt.
COHEN: No, that's spelt right.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 456
S.M.: We'll ask George. (Goes to LEADER again) Who was right
that time, George?
GEORGE: (Paying no attention to COHEN, who is again trying to
make motions behind S.M/S back to make GEORGE say he is
right) Why, you are right.
S.M.: Have another cigar. (Gives LEADER cigar) Well, Cohen, I
will give you one more chance.
COHEN: Needle. Is that the word?
S.M.: Yes.
COHEN: Why didn't you say so? N-I-D-L-E.
S.M.: Wrong again.
COHEN: I'm right.
S.M.: We will ask . . .
COHEN: I will ask him this time. Mr. Musiker, who is right this
time?
LEADER: Why, you are, Mr. Cohen.
COHEN: (Very happy, making faces at S.M.) See? (To LEADER) Do
you smoke?
LEADER: Why, yes.
COHEN: (Hand in pocket as if to take out cigar) Here's a match.
S.M.: (Laughs) Mr. Cohen, you are a card. Say, Cohen, I was
reading the papers this morning and I see that (Local town)
has three saloons to one policeman.
COHEN: That gives you three guesses as to where the policeman is.
S.M.: By the way, where is your boy?
COHEN: You mean my boy Abie? He is an eye doctor.
S.M.: (Surprised) Why I thought he was a chiropodist.
COHEN: He was a chiropodist. You see, he began at the foot and
worked himself up.
S.M.: Are you still happily married?
COHEN: Yeh, I don't live with my wife,
s.ta.: You know, I've been married since I saw you last. I married
a sharpshooter from the Buffalo Bill Show.
COHEN: A shipshopper, eh?
S.M.: Yes, sir. My wife's a very good shot. Why, she can hit a
silver dollar at a hundred yards.
COHEN: Dot's nothing. My wife goes through my pockets and never
misses a dime. You know, I got a great idea how to get along
with my wife.
.: I'd like to hear it; it may come in handy sometime.
THESTRAIGHTANDTHEJEW 457
COHEN: When I come home I throw things around the house, I
put cigar ashes on the floor.
S.M.: Why, what's the idea of that?
COHEN: I get my wife so mad she won't speak to me. Then we get
along fine.
S.M.: A woman that doesn't speak, why that's a miracle. Of course,
you know what a miracle is?
COHEN: Sure I know what a miracle is.
S.M.: Well, tell, me what is a miracle?
COHEN: Well, if you see a bull in the field . . .
S.M.: Yes, if you see a bull in the field?
COHEN: Dot ain't no miracle.
S.M.: Of course not.
COHEN: If you see a thistle in a field, dot ain't no miracle.
S.M.: Of course a thistle in a field is no miracle.
COHEN: And if you hear a lark singing, dot ain't no miracle.
S.M.: Of course hearing a lark sing is no miracle.
COHEN: But if you see a bull sitting on a thistle singing like a lark,
do? s a miracle.
S.M.: (Laughs) You're a card, Cohen. Will you have dinner at
my house tonight?
COHEN: Say, that was a nice dinner we had at your house last week.
The salmon was wonderful.
S.M.: Why, that wasn't salmon, that was ham.
COHEN: (Makes funny face) Who asked you?
S.M.: Say, are you still playing the horses?
COHEN: I played a horse yesterday twenty to one.
S.M.: And did he win?
COHEN: He didn't come in until a quarter past six.
S.M.: By the way, how is your uncle, the one that was so sick?
COHEN: My sick uncle? You know, the Board of Health wouldn't
let me bury him?
S.M.: (Indignantly) Why I never heard of such a thing. Why
wouldn't they let you bury him?
COHEN: Because he ain't dead yet
S.M.: (Laughs) You're a card, Cohen.
COHEN: I'm a whole deck. I'm going to get a drink.
S.M.: What's the idea?
COHEN: Then I'll be a full deck.
S.M.: You're incorrigible.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 458
COHEN: Why bring religion into this? I'm going now.
S.M.: Where are you going?
COHEN: I'm going to get my wife a nice dog. He must be able to
swim.
S.M.: Why must he be able to swim?
COHEN: You see, my wife holds him on her lap and she has water
on the knee,
S.M.: (Laughs] I think we better sing.
(STRAIGHT MAN sings a popular song. Then COHEN sings a parody
on it. Th(m they both Exit)
The Two-woman Act
As music plays the STRAIGHT WOMAN enters. She is all dressed up
in evening clothes. She should be dressed in the latest fashion and
should have plenty of style to her manner. Every move should
bespeak class in contrast to the COMEDIENNE who follows her on.
She is dressed eccentricly with tiny hat that has a lone feather stick-
ing up, she wears large gloves, tight skirt, and a mangy fur piece
thrown around her neck. As- music dies out, the COMEDIENNE walks
a bit faster and gets ahead of the STRAIGHT WOMAN.
s.w.: Say, what's your hurry?
COM. : I have a date with an old man and I want to get there be-
fore he falls apart.
s.w,: How old is he?
COM,: He is eighty years old.
s.w.: Is he rich?
COM.: He is in the belt-manufacturing business.
s.w.: Why don't you marry him?
COM.: I'm afraid his knees will buckle. (Makes motion with hand
to audience} For goodness sake. (As she put other hand to her
mouth. This same business is used after each Im&gh, and should
THE TWO-WOMAN ACT 459
be worked up until it's a scream] I had a date with a general
last night.
s.w.: Major general?
COM.: Not yet. (Hand business] For goodness sake. (Etc.) Do
you know, he tried to kiss me?
s.w.: Did you call for help?
COM.: No. Witnesses. (Repeat hand business) For goodness sake.
s.w.: Well my boy friend wouldn't kiss me unless I allow him to.
He's a saint.
COM.: Yeh. A Saint Bernard. (Business with hand) For goodness
sake,
s.w.: (Looking at ring on COMEDIENNE'S finger) Say, that's a nice
emerald you have there.
COM.: That's a diamond.
s.w.: Who ever heard of a green diamond?
COM.: Give it a chance; it isn't ripe yet. (Hand business) For
goodness sake.
s.w.: Well, I have to be getting along. I'm going to the beauty
parlor.
COM.: I was in one of those places yesterday. I asked the doctor
should I have my face lifted,
s.w.: And what did the doctor say?
COM.: He said if I had it knocked off it would be much better.
(Hand business) For goodness sake,
s.w.: And what did you say when he told you that?
COM.: I told him if I wasn't a lady I'd kick his teeth out. (Hand
business) Say, where did you get that swell-looking dress you
have hanging on those bones?
s.w.: Oh, a little thing I picked up at Saks. You know, all smart
girls buy their clothes there.
COM.: Hah. Smart girls don't buy their clothes. (To audience)
Get it, girls? (To STRAIGHT) Are you married?
s.w.: I was married. I married a tattooed man from a circus.
COM.: I got it. So you could stay up all night and look at the pic-
tures for nothing.
s.w.: I divorced him because he was so old-fashioned.
COM.: I guess you wanted a guy with talking pictures. (Hand busi-
ness) For goodness sake,
s.w.: I'll have you understand as far as men are concerned, I'm
a one-way street.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 460
COM.: You may have been a one-way street, but you look to ine
like you're open for all traffic now, (Hand business) For good-
ness sake.
s.w.: (Haughtily) Why, last summer I said no to seven different
men.
COM.: What were they selling? (Hand business)
s.w.: Are you married?
COM.: I was married for two years. I just had an option on him.
s.w.: Did the option run out?
COM.: No, but he did. One day he stuck a fork into me.
s.w.: (Surprised) Stuck a fork into you? Why7 what did that
mean?
COM.: It meant that I was done, sister, I was done. (Hand busi-
ness)
s.w.: You should see my boy friend. He is handsome. I have a
picture of him hanging in my boudoir.
COM.: (Mimics her) Bood wahh?
s.w.: Boudoir, in French, means a place to sleep.
COM.: (Knowingly) Yeh? In America it means a playground.
(Business) But don't get so stuck up with your Boodwahh. My
boy friend took me to eat at the Ritz.
s.w.: Say, you couldn't even pay the cover charge at the Ritz.
COM.: I said eat there, not stay there. For goodness sake. And he
is a handsome man too. I think he is an architect. Look at the
blue prints he left on my neck. For goodness sake.
s.w.: Did you have a good time?
COM.: Did I? I went out fit as a fiddle and came back tight as a
drum.
s.w.: Say, whatever became of the doctor you kept company with?
COM.: I gave him up.
s.w.: What was the matter?
COM..- Every time I got a letter from him I had to take it to the
drugstore to find out what was in it. (Business with hand) I
said some very foolish things to him.
s.w.: Yes?
COM.: That was one of them. (To audience) Catch on, girls?
s.w.: That's a very funny piece of fur you have there. What is it?
COM.: I bought it for seal.
s.w .: (Laughingly) Seal? It looks more like monkey.
DOUBLE BLACKFACE ACT 461
COM.: Don't blame me if someone has been monkeying with the
seals.
s.w.: (Very ritzy) Now this scarf I have on is the real thing. You
know, I had a terrible dream last night, I dreamed that the ani-
mal this fur came from was going to chew me to pieces.
COM.: Now don't tell me that you are afraid of rabbits? For good-
ness sake. Say7 you smell awful good. What is that perfume
you use?
s.w.: Why that is Coty's Chypre. (Pronounce it as sheep.) Five
dollars an ounce.
COM.: Is that so? Well, get a load of my perfume.
s.w.: (Walks over and smells and makes a terrible face) What is
it?
COM.: McCarthy's goat. Ten cents a gallon. (Business) For good-
* ness sake.
This should be cue for music. Both sing song, with STRAIGHT
WOMAN making gestures and COMEDIENNE copying and exaggerating
each one. At finish of song walk off with COMEDIENNE saying "For
Goodness Sake!'
Double Blackface Act
Music plays "Nobody"~as both enter wearily. One tall lanky
"Nigger" type and the other a small dumpy "Nigger" type who
acts as comedian while the tall one acts as straight man. STRAGHT
MAN enters ahead of COMEDIAN.
s.: Come on — Come on. . . .
c.: How much further we got to walk?
s.: Ten miles.
c.: Ten miles?
s.: Man, dat's nothin . . . it's only five miles a piece.
c.: You know that argiment wit dat man tired me all out.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 462
s.: You shouldn't have sed that. No sir.
c.: I didn't sed nothin.
s.: Yes you did. When dat man ast you what your nationality
was, what did you say?
c.: What did I sed?
$.: You sed you were a Republican.
c.: Well I am a Republican.
s.: I know dat, but he didn't want to know your religion.
c.; Well, I felt sick, I didn't know what he was talking about.
s.: Sick from what?
c.: Sick from eatin too much watermelon.
s." Man, there ain't no sech thing as too much watermelon. Nig-
ger, you ain't got enough stomach, dat's all.
c^ I was wit my gal.
s,> You mean Sadie?
c.: Yeh, Sadie.
s.: That black gal?
c.: She is black, ain't she?
s.: I'll say she's black. Boy, when she stands beside you, you look
like a bottle of milk.
c.: She's a swell gal. She calls me her chocolate.
s.: Say, if you is chocolate, then I must be licorice.
c.: She sent me a letter. Here 'tis. (Takes out letter and acts as
if he's reading it)
s. : What you doin? You can't read.
c.: What you talkin about, man? Sure I can read.
s. : Then read it to me.
c.: Well, I can't read dat— dat's typewritten.
s. : Why, dat's the easiest kind. What kind ob writin kin you read?
c.: I kin only read lead-pencil writin. I only went to lead-pencil
school
s.: I'll see if you can read. (Loofes at paper) What letter is dat?
c.: Why, dat's a capital seven.
s. : Why, dat's an L — you're holdin it upside down.
c.: Is dat a fact? Well, all I can read is numbers on dice.
s.: You just plain igorant. You kaint spell nor nothin.
c. : Who sez I kaint spell?
s.: I sez you kaint spell. How do you spell Ohio?
c.: Dat's easy.
s.: Well if it's so easy come on and spell it. Spell Ohio.
DOUBLE BLACKFACE ACT 463
c.: O-H-ten— Ohio.
s.: O-H-ten. (Disgusted) Say, where you spendin most of your
time?
c.: Eh?
s.: Where you spendin most of your time? Where do you hang
around?
c.: Do you mean where I'm generally at?
s.: Yeh.
c.: The jail.
s.: You ought to be in jail now.
c.: How come?
s.: I saw you knock dat man down and when he was down you
blackened both his eyes. The Devil must have put dat in yo
head.
c.: The Devil might have put it in my head to knock him down,
but those black eyes were my own idea,
s.: You keep on doin dat stuff and you'll end up bein electro-
cutioned.
c.: What's dat?
s.: Don't you know what electrocutioned is?
c.: No, but I specs it's better than hanging.
s.: Yeh7 dat's cause you is igorant. When they electrocution you,
dey puts a bran new pair of pants on you, den they cuts a slit
up one leg right up to the knee. Den dey sets you up in a
barber chair and ties a wet sponge on yo wrists. Den dey puts
a crown on yo head, den a fellow puts his hand on a button
on the wall, and blewy.
c. What's that button for an do?
S. Do? Why it just ruins you.
c. Talkin about doin, what you doin now?
s. I'se in show business,
c. Is dat a fact? What you do?
s. I is the head man.
c. The head man?
s. Sure. Did you ever hear of Field's Minstrels? I was the head
man of that,
c. Is dat a fact?
s. Yes sir. Did you ever hear of the Ringling Brothers? I was the
head man of dat.
c.: Sure enough?
Pages Tom Out of Old Vaudeville 464
s.: Yes sir. Did you ever hear of Adam and Eve?
a: Teh, but you weren't head man of dot?
s.: Listen, nigger, don't contradict me. When I say I'm right, I'm
right, an don't forget it.
Alright, Black Cloud, but I wants to tell you dis, if you was
as short as me an I was as tall as you — you'd be wrong as hell.
Listen, baboon. Don't argify wid me. Cause 1-2-3-4 ^ h°P
right up on you.
a: Yeh? Well 5-6-7-8 you'll hop right back off.
s.: Yeh? See dat fist, Midnight? When I hit the side of yo face
wit it you're goin to see down your back widout turnin yo head.
c.: Is dat so? See dat foot? Once I kicks yo wid dat, everytime yo
sit down you'll leave a footprint,
s.: Boy7 if you does that, I'll hit you so hard on yo head I'll break
both yo ankles.
c.: Last man tried dat on me ran so fast his coattails were standin
straight out and his vest pocket dipped sand.
s.: Listen boy, we shouldn't argify like this. We mustn't fbrgit
we are old war buddies.
c.: You were nothin but an old windjammer in yo outfit.
s.: Is dat so? Say, Big Mouth, I waz a better bugler than you were,
c.: How do you make dat out?
s.: Cause when I blew reveille the dead started puttin on their
shoes,
c.: Boy, dat's nothin. When I stuck my horn to my face and
blowed soupy, de cooks had to cover the strawberries to keep
em from kickin the whipped cream outta de dishes.
(Finish act -with STRAIGHT MAN playing harmonica and COMIC
dancing, in which STRAIGHT MAN joins in last eight bars for
Exit) (Note: A single number of Bert Williams "Poker Game"
can be used by COMIC)
THE COMEDY SKETCH 465
The Comedy Sketch
SCENE: Kitchen set of rich man's home. A few potted plants and
maybe a gold chair., giving it a tone of richness. Also table Center
with meats, fruits, loaf of bread, coffee pot, prop ham on it.
CAST:
Lucullus Simpson Smith — THE MAN
Percillia Perkins — THE MAID
AT RISE: PERCILLIA in neat maid's costume is seen dusting a chair.
PERCILLIA: I hope Mr. and Mrs. O'Casey get home in time because
Billy promised me to take me to the opera. (With feeling) If
there is anything I delight in more than anything else, it's the
opera. The Mikado, Little Tycoon, why it's delightful, it's en-
trancing (Music cue; Song, "Carissima," by PERCILLIA. At finish
of song, property man [or this can be done by the male partner]
blows letter-carrier whistle off stage and yells, "Letters" PER-
CILLIA acts surprised) Eh, letter? Perhaps it's from Billy. (Goes
to door calling) Hi there, give me that letter. (Opens door and
receives two letters— just the hand of the man giving letters to
her is all that has to be shown) Two? Why, let me see. (She
turns letter over and looks at address while coming down Center
Stage) Miss Percillia Perkins, that's me. I'll bet it's from Billy.
(Tears open letter and reads) Dear Percillia: This is to inform
you that I can not leave the meat shop tonight. But I love you
more than ever. Farewell. I have to stuff a blood pudding with
ham. Thine until death, William Thadeus Jinks. (Broken-
hearted, sits on chair.) After all my plans we can not go to the
opera. Heigh Ho. It's too bad. (Toying with other letter) I do
think Billy might have forsaken the blood pudding for my sake.
(Glancing at letter) Hello, what is this? Why, as I live, if I
haven't opened Mrs. Scroggins' letter. Won't there be a row
when she comes in. I'll have to stick it together with some
mucilage. (Looking for mucilage) Oh, here it is. (Takes bottle
of mucilage) If Billy would only stick to me like this mucilage,
but no (sobbingly), he's forgotten me now. Well, I may as
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 466
well stick up the envelope. There can't be any harm in my read-
ing it, just to see how high-class folks write, then I can stick it
together again. (Opens letter and reads] Dear Maud: You know
the romantic notions of my dear brother, and although I have
over and over again asserted your sister's meekness, the dear boy
wants to be convinced before proposing to her, and will arrive
in your house almost as soon as you get this, in the disguise of
a traveling actor. Tell Flora to treat any such she may have call
on her well, for no one can tell which might not be the duke.
Ever yours, Lady Clive. (Drops letter in surprise) Well I never.
A real live duke coming here disguised as an actor and Mrs.
Scroggins has gone out. (Picks up letter and fastens it, mean-
while getting bright idea)l know what I'll do, I'll pretend I'm
the missus and receive him. Perhaps he may be stuck on my
figure and propose to me. And when I'm a duchess, I'll ride past
Billy's meat shop and turn my nose up at him. I'll just spruce
up a bit and get ready for the duke. (Exits.)
(Shouts of Police-— Police off stage as door suddenly flies open.
LUCULLUS with half carpet bag, one white-gloved hand, green
umbrella, mangy fur-collared coat, battered high hat. Face pale,
black eyes, and long-haired wig. He rushes in and dives under
table, and as the cries outside die away he sticks out his head,
glances around, sees loaf of bread, grabs it and eats, gets fit
of coughing, spits out bread, sits on the edge of table, drinks
out of the spout of the coffee pot.) "Oh, ouch." (Business with
bread and coffee)
LITCULLUS: Phew. That's almost as bad as the fate I just escaped.
I do believe if those policemen had got hold of me they would
have ransacked my wardrobe. (Shows audience other side of
bag, it only being half of one. He discovers sock pinned -within)
Confound them, they've shaken me all up, I lost the key of my
valise and can't get into it. (Noise off stage) What's that? I
thought they were after me. Fve walked thirty hours on cross ties
in the last week. The sheriff came down on me and Lucullus
was forced to make a hasty exit. It so happened right in the
middle of Shakespeare's sublime tragedy of Hamlet, so I was
forced to seek shelter in these kingly robes, so I'm crushed again.
(Music Cue . . . Sings.)
THE COMEDY SKETCH 467
There goes Lucullus Simpson Smith
The Cincinnati Ham
Who by the managers kicked out
Finds solace in a dram.
His clothes melt in a heavy dew
His hat is long since slain
When I bounced out, the boys all shout
Hey Smithy . . .
"Crushed again."
(Spoken] That's what they used to say, although I could knock
the puddin out of Mansfield and Mantell. Yet, such was the
envy of me rivals I could never get a date at the leading theaters.
But I'll get on my feet and no more will they have cause
to say . . .
(Chorus . . . Singing Again)
He's a ham, he's a clam, he's the worst of 'em all
To try doing Caesar he shows an awful gall
His Brutus is terrific, his lago a myth
A regular barnstormer is Lucullus Simpson Smith.
My Cassius is simply grand
But managers won't seize it
Where'er I go they whisper low
Oh nix cull . . . cheese it.
But now I am a manager and star
It causes them much pain
Because you see they all agree
Til never be crushed again.
(After song goes to table and eats— as PEUCILLIA enters, not
seeing LUCULLUS)
PERCILLIA: There. I've fixed up and put on a ribbon or two, and
I do believe I could crush the heart of even a duke. (Sees LUCUL-
LUS and screams) Here, you beggar, this is no place for tramps.
LUCULLUS: (Drawing himself up proudly) Tramp? Vile minion,
behold in me the last of an ancient and honored race, the
favored of the earth. (Panting tragically) No, I'm no tramp but
the crushed genius endowed with immortal fire. Call me out-
cast, ragmuffin, but spare me honor, ask of the four winds of
heaven who I am and they will reply, Lucullus Simpson Smith,
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 488
tragedian. (Slaps breast and struts up and down stage majesti-
cally)
PERCILLIA: (Screams) It's the duke. Oh, love penetrated your dis-
guise. (Bows extravagantly) I have recognized your lofty brow
even in its mask of poverty. (Bows) But be thou spirit or goblin
damned?
LUCULLUS: Young woman, don't cuss.
PERCILLIA: Thou comest in such unquestionable shape I'll answer
thee.
LUCULLUS: She's stuck on my shape.
PERCILLIA: I'll call you king . . .
LUCULLUS: Good 'nuff.
PERCILLIA: Father . . .
LUCULLUS: Nix, there's six of 'em at home calling me that now.
PERCILLIA: Royal Dane.
LUCULLUS: Young woman, I object. Do I look like a dame? No.
I will not bid your sordid huckster for thee, priceless gem.
(Picks up ham from table) No, there's the sum twice told, blush
not to take it, for there's not a coin that has not been bought
by a solder's blood.
PERCILLIA: Ah, that voice again.
LUCULLUS: Come to my arms— thy husband. (PERCILLIA screams
and falls heavy in his arms and doubles up quickly) I said come
to my arms, not the pit of my stomach. (POSTMAN -whistles off
stage and yells " A letter7')
PERCILLIA: Another letter? (Rushes to door and gets it) And it's
to me and in my missus' handwriting. Oh, what if she has found
out I'm entertaining the duke? (LUCULLUS seats himself at table
and starts eating fast, while PERCILLIA opens letter and reads:)
Percillia, hurry up and get supper as soon as possible. Don't
delay a moment for the duke who has been with us all day in
the disguise of an actor will be home to supper with us. (PER-
CILLIA screams and drops note as LUCULLUS goes to her) Don't
touch me, you impostor. You're no duke, you're a tramp.
(Throws ham at LUCULLUS and he falls down)
LUCULLUS: Look out, Queen Elizabeth, you're mistaken. I'm no
duke but still no tramp.
LUCULLUS: (Removing wig) Your Billy. It's all merely a joke to
fool you. (Rubbing his eye where she hit him with ham,)
THE AFTERPIECE
PERCIIXIA: Well I'm sorry.
LUCULLUS: Not half as sorry as me. (Takes hold of her hands)
We are both mistaken. (Finish with medley or song and dance)
The Afterpiece
The Afterpiece was played at the end of nearly all old variety
shows, and was participated in by the entire company. "Irish Justice"
was one of the outstanding of all the afterpieces and has been
written and rewritten hundreds of times with as many different
versions. If the judge was played by an Irish comedian, it was
called, "Irish Justice1'; if a Dutch comedian played the lead, it was
called, "Dutch Justice"; and if a blackface comedian played the
judge, it was called, "Colored Justice" The following is the
author's version of "Irish Justice."
SCENE : Court room. Judge's desk up C. Prisoner's box L. Jury box R.
Desk in front of Judge's stand. Chairs R. and L. for lawyer and
district attorney.
CAST: Mike O'Malley THE NEW JUDGE
Con THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY
Guggenheim AN ATTORNEY
Makeem Welcome COURT OFFICER
Hooligan VICTIM OF HARD LUCK
PRISONERS. WITNESSES. JURY. COPS, ETC.
AT OPENING — Everybody is in court except the judge.
CON: (To GUGGENHEIM) So now you're a lawyer. How did it
happen?
GUGG.: The judge fixed it for me. He wanted someone with him
who knew the law so I went through college, and the judge met
me outside; now I'm a lawyer.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 470
COP: Here conies the new judge.
(Music plays "Wearing of the Green" as JUDGE enters L, While
everybody looks R. He has large book under his arm and is
dressed in black robe and a battered high hat. Everybody cheers
as the JUDGE gets up on the stand and does funny business with
his hat, finally throwing it down.}
JUDGE: Darn that hat, what's the matter with it?
GUGG.: You got a swell head this morning.
JUDGE: There's nothing wrong with my head. It's been raining;
this is one of those hats that shrink in the night.
CON: Oh, you got wet, did you?
JUDGE: I did, inside. Now you cops do a run and chase up some
"business.
(Chorus Exits.)
Begorra, this is a great business. Trn the judge, he's the district
attorney, and you're a liar ... a lawyer. Who's that bum sleep-
ing there?
GUGG.: He's the court crier.
JUDGE: (Hitting POLICEMAN with bladder on head. The POLICEMAN
wakes up.} Get a can opener and open this here court.
COP:* This court is now open. Hear ye, hear ye.
JUDGE: We hear ye, we ain't blind. What's the first case on the
docket?
coisr: The first case, your honor, is a case of bigamy.
JUDGE: Bring in Big Annie. ( POLICEMAN executes a grotesque dance
and exits. The JUDGE just barely misses him with the bladder.)
Say, what is this? A dance hall? (Enter POLICEMAN with BIGAMIST
who goes to stand) Who's he been murdering?
CON: Your honor, this man is not a murderer. He has two wives
and the people demand that he be punished.
JUDGE: Oh, the people are non compos mentis. Fin the court-
house. (Raps desk with large bung starter, which frightens GUGG.,
who jumps into POLICEMAN'S arms— after laugh, POLICEMAN
drops him) Have you anything to put before this court before
the case goes to the jury?
BIGAMIST: Would $10,000 be enough? (Takes out roll of bills.
Everybody makes a grab for the bills . . . but HOOLIGAN enters*
grabs money, and exits)
JUDGE: Are you guilty or not guilty?
BIGAMIST: You guess first, Judge.
THEAFTERP1ECE 471
JUDGE: Officer, remove the rubbish. He's discharged. (COP takes
BIGAMIST Off )
CON: I demand to know on what grounds you discharged the
prisoner.
JUDGE: On the courthouse grounds.
GUGG.: But what kind of justice is this?
JUDGE: This is (Local town) justice. That man has two wives. I
have one. He is punished enough. (Raps with mallet as GUGG.
and COP start a fight} Order in this butcher shop. What's the
next case on the docket?
CON: The next case, your honor, is a case of assault and battery.
JUDGE: Bring them both in. (POLICEMAN exits with another funny
dance and the JUDGE barely misses him with bladder) That cop
is full of Lydia Pinkham's medicine. (COP brings man in)
CON: This man is charged with hitting a cop.
JUDGE: That will cost you eleven fifty for hitting a cop.
MAN: That's cheap. (Hands up money)
JUDGE: Say, that eleven fifty means eleven dollars and fifty years in
jail.
MAN: But my doctor sez I won't live over twenty years.
JUDGE: Well, do all you can of it. Take him away. (POLICEMAN has
fallen asleep and JUDGE hits him with bladder— COP runs off)
Next case. (COP brings man in who is HOOLIGAN)
CON: This prisoner is arrested for stealing a nanny goat.
GUGG.: Til take this case. (Goes to HOOLIGAN) I'll get you out of
this and all it will cost you is the mere sum of ten dollars.
(HOOLIGAN shakes his head yes) Now when anyone says anything
to you, don't say a word, just make a sound like a nanny goat.
(Both imitate goat) I'm ready for the case, Judge.
JUDGE: Go ahead, I won't listen.
CON: This disreputable specimen of humanity is guilty, your honor,
beyond the shadow of a doubt. For with my own eyes I saw him
in the company of the aforesaid goat,
GUGG.: You never saw him with a goat.
CON: I did see him with a goat. (They both wrangle like two kids)
JUDGE: (Hitting them both with bladder) 111 buy you kids a candy
horse and if you don't like it you can lick it.
GUGG.: Well, Judge, he is not guilty and I can prove it.
JUDGE: Well, prove it, and I won't believe you.
GUGG.: You see, Happy was going home one bright afternoon in
Pages Tom Out of Old Vaudeville 472
the middle of the night and he found laying in the road a long
piece of rope.
JUDGE: Tin or wood?
GUGG,: Glass, He took it home and when he got there he found the
goat on the other end of the rope.
JUDGE: To this terrible charge do you plead guilty? (HOOLIGAN imi-
tates nanny goat} I say do you plead guilty or not guilty?
(HOOLIGAN repeats nanny goat imitation) Officer, remove him,
he's a nut.
GUGG.: (Goes to HOOLIGAN) I got you out all right. Where's my
ten dollars? (HOOLIGAN imitates goat and Exits. GUGG. appeals
to the POLICEMAN, CON, and JUDGE and they all imitate nanny
goat. Enter HOOLIGAN with a ladder)
JUDGE: Hey, where are you going with that ladder?
HOOLIGAN: I'm going to take my case to a higher court. (Exits)
CON: The next case is a man accused of murdering his family.
JUDGE: (As COP brings in man) Get the Bible and swear in the
murderer.
COP: Your honor, the bull pup has chewed up the Bible.
JUDGE: Make the witness kiss the dog. We can't adjourn to get a
new Bible. So you murdered your whole family?
MAN: Yes, your honor.
JUDGE: Thirty days.
MAN: Don't be so hard on me, Judge. It was only a small family.
JUDGE: Take him away, there ain't going to be no murderer in
my court. (Enter HOOLIGAN and wanders around courtroom)
What are you doing in this court?
HOOLIGAN: I'm a witness.
JUDGE: What trial?
HOOLIGAN: I don't know. But you never can tell what cases come
up. (Exits)
JUDGE: What's the next case?
CON: A man accused of stealing a jug of whisky.
JUDGE: Bring in the whisky stealer. (POLICEMAN does funny dance
and exits and re-enters with whisky stealer who has jug. COP
tries to drink out of it. GUGG. takes it away from him and hands
it to the JUDGE) How dare you tiy to drink before the judge?
(Takes drink, makes faces.) What's that, lamp oil?
GUGG.: Your honor, this man's not guilty. He is simply subject to
fits. While meandering down the boulevard he took a fit,
THEAFTERPIECE 473
JUDGE: I'll soak him five dollars for that.
GUGG.: While under the influence of this fit his hand involuntarily
reached into a window containing jugs of whisky. His hand
clutched a jug, he took it home, and it cured him of fits.
JUDGE: You say whisky is good for fits?
CON: But I say whisky is not good for fits. (COP is seized with a jit.
JUDGE brings down jug and gives him a drink, HOOLIGAN comes
on and has a fit, is given a drink, then the JUDGE has afit....
HOOLIGAN turning jug upside down)
HOOLIGAN: Judge, there's no more whisky.
JUDGE: (Coming out of fit quickly) Then there's no more fits.
(Whistle blows, bell rings, as JURY all start to go out) Here,
here, where are you going?
JURY: Why, it's lunch time. We want our lunch.
JUDGE: Say, officer, go out and bring in the Jury some lunch. We
have a lot of cases before us. And here's a dime and tell Bill the
bartender at Schmidt's to fill it up, it's for the judge. (Hands
him coal scuttle and a dime. JUDGE lights a cigar or a pipe)
CON: Your honor, there is no smoking allowed in court.
JUDGE: Say, I'm the judge, ain't I?
CON: Yes, your honor.
JUDGE: Well, the judge can smoke a little. (OFFICER enters with a
pitchfork full of hay and throws it in the jury box and Exits.
HOOLIGAN comes in -with coal scuttle full of beer and hands it to
the JUDGE, who drinks it all up as everybody is watching him
with their mouths watering. Loud noises heard off stage. Every-
body looks as OFFICER enters with chorus girls, who are dressed in
long capes) What is the matter here?
OFFICER: Your honor, they all were doing the hootchie-kootchie
dance in one-piece bathing suits.
JUDGE: (Raps mallet on bench, puts hat on, end yells] Court's
adjourned.
CON: (Seeing JUDGE going down to the gprls) What are you going
to do with them, your honor?
JUDGE: (Flirting with the girls and holding one of the girls around
the waist) I am going to hold them all for further examination.
(HOOLIGAN hits JUDGE on head with bladder from behind, and
takes his place with the girls as everybody sings and Curtain
Falls)
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville
The
Two men made up as Hebrew or Dutch Comedians . . . Enter
with opening introduction. Stand center stage and sing, clearly and
distinctly so that the audience will get the "catch lines."
(To the tune of "Old Gray Bonnet'7)
Our friend young Jimmy Grady has a girl, her name is Sadie.
They are going to be wed, so he called one morning early
At her home to see his girlie, but her mother to him said,
'To you I must confess, Sir, that my daughter's still in bed/'
"You will have to wait, dear Jimmy, all I have on is my— coat/'
Then he sang to his love.
Chorus
Put on your old gray bonnet, with the blue ribbons on it,
For Fd like to see you right away.
She said, "J™, that would never do to see me this way, why,
You must wait 'till our wedding day."
(Both Exit. Come back and as music is vamping, say, "We* got
some more — you ain't heard nothing yet.7'
(To the tune of "Kelly."}
To a spirit-rapping party Patrick Casey took his wife.
A lady there went in a trance and brought the dead to life.
The spirits started rapping, at least so the lady said,
And soon the room was filled with shades of people who were dead.
The lady said, "Is there some shade somebody wants to see?"
Then Casey said, "Yes, find one man who owes money to me."
Chorus
Has anybody here seen Kelly? K-E-L-L-Y?
I lent money to Kelly when he was alive.
When a Dutchman dies he's dead alright,
But an Irishman has to be watched three nights.
If anybody here sees Kelly, tell him I want rny five.
(Both Exit— Come back as before and say, "We got some more,
you ain't heard nothing yet")
THE PARODY SINGERS 475
(To the tune of "Dixie")
Way down yonder where the grass is blue
We wrote this song for me and you,
It's good, it ain't, it's fine, we don't believe it.
We'll sing you a song we wrote last night,
Our pen was wrong but we made it write,
Our ink was pink, dot's vy dis song is foolish.
We wish we was in Dixie, we should, vy not?
We wish we was in Dixie land
With three millions in our hand.
We ain't, we are, don't wake us up, we are dreaming.
Don't laugh out loud or the manager will fine us.
We wish we was two Mormons, we would, we could,
We wished we lived by old Salt Lake
With all the wives that we could take,
We'd drown them all and then we'd drown their mothers.
Salt Lake is great, that's where they catch salt codfish.
We wish we was a pickle so sweet to eat,
We wish we vos a piece of soap,
Some girl would wash with us we hope,
Oh joy, oh fudge, we know a girl needs washing,
Dot's how she lives, she's working in a laundry.
(Both Exit— Come back and say, "We got more. You ain't heard
nothing yet")
(To the tune of "Dreaming")
Last summer I went on vacation
To the country for sweet recreation.
I found all the rooms had been taken.
A young clerk from Siegel and Cooper
When he found out that I was a trouper
To the landlord said he,
"He can sleep with me," and so I did.
Chorus
Dreaming, dreaming, of his work that clerk he started in dreaming,
One yard or two yards, I heard him repeat,
When I heard a big rip I said there goes my sheet.
Dreaming, dreaming, a smile on my face it was beaming.
But I found out next morn 'twas my night shirt he torn
While dreaming.
Pages Tom Out of Old Vaudeville 47S
(Both Exit—Come back and say, "We got some more. Say, what
do you want for your money?"}
(To the tune of "I Love a Lassie")
I love a lassie, a bonnie lassie,
She's as skinny as the paper on the wall.
And everytime I meet her, with a hug and kiss I greet her
And she says:
(Modulation into tune of "Stop Tickling, Jock")
Won't you stop your tickling, Jock,
Won't you stop your tickling, Jock,
Then I laugh and to her say,
(Modulation into tune of "Highland Lassie")
Bonnie, my Highland lassie,
For you my heart it pines,
Please do some Scottish dances.
(Modulation into turn of "Highland Mary Did the Highland
Fling-)
When Highland Mary started in to do the Highland fling,
"Hoot Mon," said Highland Mary as she did the Highland
fling,
When her foot got tangled in the chandelier
One Scotchman arose and he did cry:
(Modulation into tune of "Jerusalem")
She's losin' ?em, She's losin' 'em,
Then they all got up and sang:
(Modulation into tune of "Don't Take Me Home")
Don't take us home, please don't take us home.
(Modulation into tune of "Auld Lang Syne")
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, to each other they did say,
When Highland Mary said she'd dance for them again some
day.
(Both Exit—Make change into long linen dusters, goggles, cap,
etc., like two automobilists—Look at audience and say, "What,
some more?79)
(To tune of "Yankee Doodle"}
Oh we both were very dizzy, from being very busy,
So we decided that we'd quit and lead a quiet life.
First we bought an automobubble
And that started all the trouble
THE PARODY SINGERS 477
For both of us then we did take ourselves a wife.
Then we went automobubbling walking,
Oh we both felt dandy, like full of candy,
We run, we ran everybody down
Till the machine went in the air,
But we didn't give a care,
We saw all kinds of colors, the red, white, and blue,
We almost saw the star-strangled bananas.
(Modulation into tune of "We Rambled'}
We rambled, we rambled, we rambled all around,
In the air not on the ground.
(Modulation into tune of "Poor John")
For the auto took us round to see our mother-in-law,
Our mother-in-law, our mother-in-law.
(Modulation into tune of "See-Saw")
Then she saw she saw, she saw us go up and go down.
We said that we'd visit her that night again
And to be ready to greet us not later than ten.
(Modulation into tune of "I Don't Care")
But we didn't care, we didn't care,
Once we were out of her sight
We wandered all around, we went from town to town,
And we ended up that night
(Modulation into tune of "Gem of the Ocean')
With our auto at the bottom of the ocean,
We were surprised to End it bright.
It was full of electric fishes.
We're here to say it was a wondrous sight.
(Modulation into tune of "Silvery Moon7)
By the light of the silvery moon, our wives did swoon,
So we started for home mighty soon.
(Modulation into tune of "All Aboard for Blanket Boy")
We jumped aboard and rode away,
No more with fishes will we play.
(Modulation into tune of "Come Over to My Yard")
We put the auto in our yard
And from there it never will stray.
(Modulation into tune of "Yankee Doodle")
From now on we are walking dandies,
The ground is good enough for us.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 478
If we take a trip again it will be upon a pony.
Hurray for the red, white, and blue.
(Modulation into tune of "Auld Lang Syne'7)
Our auto trip well never forget until the day we die,
We told you all about it— now it's time to say good-by.
(Exit)
and
THE ACROBATIC ACT
(Stop music at finish of act and stand center stage) Ladies and
gentlemen, my partner will now do a double complete somersault
from the floor, and is the only man alive ever to attempt this trick.
(This can be said in a German dialect)
THE DOG ACT
Ladies and gentlemen, little Trixie here will now pick out the
different flags of all the different countries, just by hearing the
orchestra play the national anthems of the different countries,
This is done by Trixie herself and is not worked through any cues
of mine. This is all done by kindness. (See that the dogs don't
bark loudly 'when you whip them off stage, as the audience may
think you are cruel)
FEMALE IMPERSONATION
(At -finish oj act remove wig and lift shoulders to make them look
big and in as mannish a voice as you possibly can, say) So long,
fellows.
J0GGLEB
(When you are dropping balls, clubs, or any objects you may be
juggling) This is the only act in the world that gets paid for
practicing.
(When woman assistant gives you the different objects) I carry
her so she can hand me things— last night she handed me a black
ODDS AND ENDS 473
eye. (Look at her legs] I wish someone would look at me once in
a while.
(Before doing a trick) I did this trick before the crowned heads
of Europe and the bald heads of (Local town.) .
(When missing a trick) If I did it the first time, you wouldn't
think it was a good trick.
(Try putting hat on stick while balancing stick on head; after
missing it a dozen times, place hat on stick and say) Well, any-
way, this is the way it looks if I did it. (Exit)
DANCING ACT
(Stop music) My partner will do triples and wings; she is the only
lady in the world doing this style of dancing, and we have ten
dollars posted with the management of this theater as a challenge
to any lady dancer. (At finish of dance or on the last -four bars, yell
to leader "Let's Go")
MAGICIAN
I have here an ordinary deck of playing cards. I will now prove to
you that the hand is quicker than the eye.
I did this trick before President Roosevelt . . . was elected. Has
anybody in the audience got a stiff gentleman's hat? I mean a
gentleman's stiff hat.
(Taking rabbit out of hat) I always use a rabbit, because you
know rabbits are smart, they can multiply.
I will now roll up my sleeves to prove to you that there is nothing
concealed in them.
I would like to borrow a five-dollar gold piece. (Look around
audience and when nobody offers you the gold piece, say) Alright,
I'll settle for a dollar.
WIRE ACT
(While walking on wire) I just received this wire from my agent.
Somebody asked me how my business was and I said, "Slack."
CARTOONIST
If the lady in the upper box will take her hand away from her face,
I will try and make a drawing of her.
I once drew a chicken so well that when I threw it in the waste-
basket, it laid there.
I showed a picture of an apple that I drew to my teacher and she
said it was rotten.
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 48°
SINGER
Ladies and gentlemen, I have a special request this evening to sing
(Pick out song you sing best) .
COMPOSER
I will now play you a medley of iny compositions. (Play part of
chorus, and between each one say) And then I wrote ....
VIOLINIST
Ladies and gentlemen, I will try and give you a series of imitations
on my fiddle. My first will be that of a man speaking to a lady and
the lady answering back. If you will pay particular attention, I am
sure you will distinctly hear what they have to say. First he meets
the girl and flirts with her. (Play "Oh, You Kid" on G string)
This is what she answered. (Play "Go To Heir on E string)
HYPNOTIST
Ladies and gentlemen, I am about to show you a few interesting
experiments in the science of hypnotism. I would like for a com-
mittee of about a dozen gentlemen to step up here on the stage
and see that I do not use any confederates or plants, and also see
that there is no trickery whatsoever in my experiments. I will be
very grateful to you gentlemen if you will volunteer for the com-
mittee. You will find steps on both sides of the stage and I assure
you I will not do or say anything that will offend or embarrass
you. (As the committee comes up, you greet everyone with a hand-
shake.) Now, gentlemen, will you please tell the ladies and gentle-
men in the audience that you have never seen me before. These
men are all strangers to me. All right, we shall now proceed with
my first experiment. For my first experiment I shall try suspended
circulation. I wish to state at this time that I appeared before the
faculty and students of science and medicine last week at Barndy
College; my suspended circulation experiment was used in the
amputation of an arm. It is one of the first bloodless operations in
the annals of medicine. So you see, ladies and gentlemen, my act
is educational as well as entertaining.
ENGLISHMAN APPEARING FOB FIRST TIME
(After act is over) I love your country very much and I wish to
thank you from the bottom of my heart for being so grand to me
on this my first appearance in your country. And I am very proud
to state that I have already applied for my first papers and hope to
be a citizen of your grand and glorious country soon. I thank you.
THE PALACE 481
MASTER OF CEREMONIES
Now folks, give the little girl a great big hand.
PICTURE STAR MAKING PERSONAL APPEARANCES
I can't tell you ladies and gentlemen how much it means to me to
see and meet my audience face to face. I want you to know my real
self besides knowing my reel self. Contrary to what you read in the
papers, we do not play all day and all night in our beautiful homes.
It is real hard work in Hollywood if one takes her profession seri-
ously. Day in and day out we appear before the camera with nobody
to applaud you when you feel you did something really worth
while. I can't tell you how wonderful you have made me feel this
afternoon with your generous applause. It makes one feel proud
and grand to know that one isn't forgotten. I shall endeavor in the
future to do better work in the pictures and to keep your friend-
ship. I shall go back to the studio in Hollywood with a lighter
heart and appreciative feeling for having met you all in person.
I thank you.
of
Tbe Palace
The Palace Theatre on Broadway and Forty-seventh Street, New
York City, has been glorified in pictures and novels, on radio, TV,
and the stage, and is known all over the world!
The Palace was a very appropriate name, for it was here that the
kings and queens, princes and princesses, of comedy, song and
dance, music, drama, and acrobatics ruled for nineteen years! It
was here that the princes of entertainers and the entertainers of
princes played for the many loyal subjects of the Kingdom of
Vaudeville!
When an actor made good at the Palace, he was knighted with
Pages Tom Out of Old Vaudeville 482
the golden sword and admitted to the inner court circles of the
aristocrats and blue bloods of the kingdom. The Palace maybe
didn't play royalty, but it paid royally! If you made good at the
Palace, you walked down the three red-carpeted steps on either
side of the stage and stepped into the rich fields of musical comedy,
drama, movies, and radio. It ceased being the throne room of the
kings of Vaudeville in 1932. Talkies, radio, and a dozen and one
things crumbled the kingdom, and a few wandering tribes re-
mained. And to this day you can see some of their descendants,
but they bear little resemblance to their ancestors of the two-a-day
at the Palace! (Especially under glass.)
The Palace was built by Martin Beck, who through it was going
to fulfill a life's ambition of bringing Orpheum vaudeville into
New York City, where Keith-Albee had ruled for so many years.
Beck's backer ran out on him, so he had to give up to Albee, but
retained 25 per cent of the stock in the Palace and was allowed to
have a little say about some things. Finally in 1928 both the
Orpheum and Keith circuits were taken over by Joseph P. Kennedy,
the financial genius (later U. S. Ambassador to England) and Gen-
eral David Sarnoff, representing Radio Corporation of America.
The new combine was named the Radio-Keith-Orpheum Circuit,
or RKO. Mr. Kennedy placed a gentleman by the name of Hiram
Brown at the head of his new kingdom. Mr. Brown was a big leather
man who knew a lot about leather but nothing about show biz, ex-
cept what the ticker tape told him, for now the kingdom was ruled
by the Wall Street boys!
Beck— Albee— Brown. Blood— sweat—and tears. It was Martin
Beck's blood that built the Palace, E. F. Albee's sweat that kept it
going as the world's greatest vaudeville theater— and Hiram
Brown's tears (when the stock market stopped laughing at vaude)
that washed it all away. Beck was the artist, Albee the showman,
and Brown the businessman. It was Big Business that helped ruin
vaudeville and the Palace!
For the first few months of its existence the Palace didn't do
very well. It was when Beck booked the immortal Sarah Bernhardt
that the Palace really got on its feet. They even raised the prices,
which didn't come down for a long time. Some years later the
Divine Sarah played the Palace again, when she only had one leg
to stand on. Her other one had been amputated, but her ability as
an artist and drawing card hadn't!
THE PALACE 481
The Palace started out with a check on anything that was off
color in song, dialogue, or pantomime, as was the rule over the
whole Orpheum and Keith circuits. Frank Keenan, the noted dra-
matic actor (grandfather of Keenan Wynn), played a sketch,
"Vindication''; it was about an old Southern soldier who came to
see the governor (who had fought on the Union Side). "It's about
my boy, Governor; you are going to hang him next week. He never
did anything wrong in his whole life. I don't think you know how
it happened. You see, this man spit on the picture of Robert E.
Lee, and — God damn him — my boy shot him!" It was a shock to
the audience, who had never heard such language on any vaudeville
stage, but it was done so artistically and so dramatically by Mr.
Keenan that Mr. Albee allowed him to keep it in and played him
over the entire circuit. Mr. Keenan and "the line" received editorial
comment, plenty of publicity, and did plenty of business. I believe
that Albee was showman enough to realize it would. It was years
later, in 1929, that another great artist, Beatrice Lillie, sang a song
at the Palace in which her finishing line was, "I see the same
goddam faces." It was not censored.
The blue and the double entendre were starting to eat away at
the bowels of vaude. The worst offenders were at the Palace, where
the acts felt they were playing to a very "wise" audience who
wanted that type material. They didn't, which was proven by the
many acts that didn't use it and were hits. It got worse and worse-
dirty jokes, dirtier pieces of business, and very dirty lines for
black-outs, all of which was topped by the "goose with the cane"!
There were no more signs backstage at the Palace reading, "Re-
member this theater caters to ladies and gentlemen and children.
Vulgarity will not be tolerated. Check with manager before using
any material you have any doubt about. Don't use words, hell,
damn, devil, cockroach, spit, etc." The signs now were covered
with dollar marks!
The Palace was the first and only theater that I know of in
which a funeral service was held. It was on the occasion of the
passing of a fine gentleman and great showman, Sam K. Hodgdon,
who was an executive with the Keith Circuit from the days when
Keith started in his tiny museum in Boston to the time of his
death. His funeral service at the Palace was jammed with sad-
dened children of vaude who honestly mourned the loss of a good
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 484
friend. Sam Hodgdon was practically a poor man in the days when
the boys on the booking floor were "on the take."
It was at the Palace that Weber & Fields walked off the bill,
pleading illness, but the real cause was that they were billed second
to Marie Dressier (who used to work for them). It was the first
time in their entire noble careers in the theater that they failed
to appear in a performance which they were billed for.
It was the Palace that played some of the top single-woman acts
on one bill: Marie Dressier, Cissie Loftus, Marie Cahill, May Irwin,
and Yvette Rugel, and for good measure Cissie Loftus and Marie
Cahill did a "sister act/' and they too sneaked in a "bluey," when
Marie Cahill asked Cissie Loftus about a mutual girl friend, "She
never married, did she?" And Cissie replied, "No, her children
wouldn't let her." In 1925 the Palace ran an all-English bill with
Bransby Williams, Ada Reeve, Albert Whelan, and Nervo & Knox
as the features. A year later they repeated with Daphne Pollard,
Arthur Prince, Marie Cahill, Ella Shields, and the Du For Boys.
(Cahill and Shields were not English, but had played over there
for many years.)
In 1922 someone got a bright idea of running a show at the
Palace without headliners. Nobody was featured in the billing. It
didn't pay off. (It would have saved a lot of billing headaches for
the bookers, if it had worked.) There were no names in lights at
at Palace until 1928. The only lighted sign up to then was Keith
Vaudeville. Some headliners would have a banner with their
names in big letters stretched across the entrance. In 1928 the
Keith electric sign was removed and replaced by a new one which
read Radio-Keith-Orpheum Vaudeville and made room for the
actors' names in lights too. The first ones to be put up were Fanny
Brice, Al Trahan, and Fowler & Tamara.
The Palace had many billing and dressing-room troubles; be-
cause they booked so many great stars who figured they should get
top billing and the best dressing room. Elsie Janis, Fritzi Scheff,
and Nora Bayes all walked out at different times because of bill-
ing. Eddie Darling, the great booker of the Palace, hit on a cute
trick to cut down his dressing-room headaches. When there was a
chance of a dressing-room argument, he would instruct the stage
manager to put ladders and paint buckets in the downstairs dress-
ing rooms and tell the headliners that they were being painted and
THE PALACE 485
so couldn't be used. They would all take the upstairs rooms, which
were much roomier and better ventilated, and never make a kick.
The downstairs dressing room for the star dates way back.
Naturally one didn't want stars to tire themselves out by climbing
stairs, so they got the first off-stage dressing room. But it became a
phobia with stars to get the No. i dressing room or the one with
the star on the door. Jordan in Philadelphia had all the rooms
named after states: there were no star rooms. But now, when most
theaters have elevators backstage, it doesn't matter much, that is,
as long as one room has a star on it!
During World War I, there was a mass meeting held at the
Palace by all the great names in show biz, with George M. Cohan
presiding. It was called to organize volunteer entertainment units
to be sent to the front, hospitals, and camps (like our present
USO Units), under the auspices of the Over There Theatre
League. It was the first meeting of its kind in the history of the
theater. When Cohan asked who would volunteer to go overseas
and entertain our troops, the whole audience stood up. It was
originally E. H. Southern and Winthrop Ames's idea. The
Y.M.C.A. would send them over and maintain the actors while
there.
At one time Mr. Albee turned the Palace over to religious
services on Sunday mornings.
There has been much written about the Palace, and most of it
was as wrong as a dame in a Bikini bathing suit in Alaska. So just
for the record, let me jot down a few facts. Carlton Hoagland was
its first booker, followed by many others. Martin Beck, Marcus
Heiman, George Godfrey, Max Gordon, Arthur Willie, Harry
Mundorf, Bill McCaffery, Bill Howard, Charlie Freeman, Sam
Tishman, and of course Eddie V. Darling (V. stood for Valentine,
his birthday), who booked the Palace in its most glorious days. He
was a great booker and took charge of most of the big-time houses
on the circuit. A good booker could make a fair bill play well by
the proper placing of the acts. Of course, in booking the Palace
the budget was much larger than for other theaters and so it was
easier to lay out a show, but still there were plenty of headaches,
as the booker had three and sometimes four headliners to satisfy
as to billing and position on the bill. Eddie Darling had a sense
of humor and especially loved to "rib" single women. He would
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 486
drop in to visit them backstage and repeat some piece of gossip
he heard about them, etc., and in no time he'd have created an
upheaval. The actors liked him, as he was a fair man in his deal-
ings with them.
Frank Thompson was the first manager at the Palace, followed
by Doc Breed, William Wood, and Elmer Rogers. The latter came
up from the Union Square Theater where he first worked for
Keith; he stayed at the Palace throughout its palmy days and
resigned when it stopped playing two-a-day (he received a pension) .
He was tops—a very fine gentleman who knew his business, and
his business at the Palace was being not so much a manager as a
diplomat with the temperamental actors backstage and the Big
Brass who would always be dropping in to see part of the show.
He was the reserved-seat vaude manager and dean of 'em all.
Paul Schindler was the first musical director, followed by many
real greats of the vaude leaders, like Jules Lensberg, Charlie Dabb,
Benny Roberts, Lou Foreman, Milton Schwartzwald, and the
"guest conductors" who came later.
The boys backstage, Bill Clark and Bob Altaian, were the stage
managers for years with a number of deck hands that stuck it
through until the finish. The elevator boys, two weird characters,
Doc Cook and Morris, knew more about vaude people than any-
one in town. They would run errands for 'em, wake 'em up at the
hotel, see that they made the shows, etc. They were a lot of fun.
Murray Roesdies was chief usher and Mamie McBride was matron
from 1920 to the finish.
The great press agents for the Palace were Will Page (he was
the first), William Raymond Sill, Walter Kingsley, Mark Leucher,
John Pollock, Bob Sylvester, Carrol Pierce, Don Prince, and Dick
Maney. They did a nice dignified job. They didn't have the field
days that Hammerstein gave to his press agents; that place was a
P.A.'s Paradise!
The opening bill, March 25, 1913, matinee:
Eight Palace Girls Dancers
Mclntyre & Hardy (They left the bill because of con-
flict with another act and were re-
placed by Hy Mayer, famous car-
toonist of Judge.}
Ed Wynn (Assisted by two men)
THE PALACE 487
The Eternal Waltz Thirty-person "flash act." Music by
Leo Fahl, book by August Hurgon,
produced by Joe Hart, with Cyril
Chadwick and Mabel Bera among
the principals.
Taylor Holmes Monologue. (He was added to the
bill after the matinee.)
Milton Pollock & Co. In George Ade's comedy, "Speaking
to Father."
Four Vannis Wire act with four people. One of
them was dressed like a woman.
Otto Gygi Violinist. (Was hit of the bill.)
La Napierkowska Pantomimist and dancer (cooch
variety). She was supposed to be
stung by a bee, which makes her go
into her squirms.
The house was an i,8oo-seater, the prices were 25 to 50 cents in
the gallery and $1.50 downstairs. The show cost about $7,000, the
receipts were $4,000, showing a loss of about $8,500 on the first
week of the Palace!
The last bill of two-a-day before it turned to grind policy was
on May 7, 1932:
Bill Demarest M.C. (of Demarest & Colette)
Allan Mann & Dorothy Dell In song and dance
assisted by Helen O'Shea
Ada Brown Sepia warbler
Henry Santry & Band (Had performing parrot in act.)
Rosetta "Topsy" Duncan Of the famous Duncan Sisters
William Demarest & Comedy
Estelle Colette
Floyd Gibbons Famous war correspondent and fast
gabber talked about Sino-Japanese
War
Frank Mitchell & Knockabout comedy
Jack Durant
Charlie Jordan & Burlesquing radio features
Johnny Woods
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 488
Dave Apollon with his (Third week)
Filipino Orchestra
Albertina Rasch Girls With four adagio dancers and
Goodell & Nora Williams, a war-
bling dancer
The last bill at the Palace, then doing four-a-day, was November
16, 1932:
Nick Lucas, Hal LeRoy, Sid Marion, Giovanni, Ross & Edwards,
Ola Lelith, and the Honey Family.
When vaudeville was real honest-to-goodness two-a-day straight
vaude without gimmicks, James J. Morton, 'The Boy Comic," was
used for a novelty as the M.C. of the show and he maybe came
around once a season to a house that enjoyed the idea. But later
on, when there was a shortage of top-notch acts and the Palace was
using many acts for two- to four-week runs and repeating head-
liners, they put in a Master of Ceremonies regularly. The picture
presentation houses used M.C.s to bolster up a small fair show. It
was up to the M.C. to get the audience to applaud acts they would
never have applauded; the M.C. would "talk it up/' tell how great
the act was, how wonderful the girl was, that they were good to
their mothers, etc.7 and so out of many a mediocre show he would
make what seemed by the applause he got for it like a hit show. It
got so that the Big Time and especially the Palace copied this idea.
The M.C.s would do bits and impromptu gags with the other
acts and would do their own act, besides an afterpiece with most
of the acts on the bill in it. Broadway seemed to like this. The
Palace even tried to revive the famous old Winter Garden Sunday
nights. The M.C. would call on prominent actors seated in the
audience, some for a bow, and some to get up on the stage and
"do their stuff" (for free). Al Jolson had never played the Palace,
but was called on one Sunday night by Dave Apollon, the M.C.,
and he sang a song from the aisle. They even had a blackboard in
the lobby and wrote the names of the prominent people on it as
they arrived. This was in 1930, when the Palace was tiying any-
thing to keep going. An M.C. at the Palace had to "be important
to be able to get celebs up to take bows or do a number without
offending them. Of course, many of the "guests" you didn't even
have to ask; they'd jump up ready to do their act even if you
looked at them.
THE PALACE 489
James J. Morton was of course the first of the professional
M.C.s. He never worked like the M.C.S that followed him; he
would go through the show without working with anyone. Frank
Fay was undoubtedly the first M.C. at the Palace, and enjoyed a
run of eight weeks there to tremendous returns. (He had George
Haggerty, Patsy Kelly, and Lew Mann as his stooges.) It was his
great success that decided the management on bringing in an
M.C. every week and make it a part of the show. The first Mistress
of Ceremonies at the Palace was Florence Moore. Allen (Fred)
& York with their "joke cemetery" drop (funny epitaphs on the
headstones), would introduce the acts, addressing themselves as
Mr. Fink and Mr. Smith. Jack Benny M.C/d in 1927; others
who acted as M.C.s were Benny Rubin, Jack Donahue, Bert Han-
Ion, Taylor Holmes, Julius Tannen, Ken Murray (when he was
with the Harry Carroll act), Lou Holtz (an eight-week run), Ted
Healey, Joe Frisco, Georgie Price, Harry Richman, Lester Allen,
Emil Boreo, Eddie Dowling, and Dave Apollon. Some of these
were after the Palace had already changed its policy to pics and
vaude.
There was always something doing at the Palace. It was here
that a young comic by the name of Bob Hope became discouraged
and wanted to leave the bill and got a pep talk by Harry Hersh-
field and decided to stay. (I dread to think of Bob having left the
show biz then; we wouldn't be having so many laughs now.)
Wilkie Bard, the great English artist, played Hammerstein's years
before and was a great hit, but when he came to the Palace he
flopped. After rearranging his routine he became a big hit again.
The only agent ever to book a complete show of his own acts
in the Palace was Charlie Morrison, in 1928, the first and only
time it happened not only at the Palace but in all big-time vaude.
The house played very few freak acts, although in 1916 they did
play an act called "The Twelve Speed Maniacs," who assembled
a Ford in two minutes! The Palace also had "Country Store Night'7
the same as the smaller Palaces in Kokomo, Kankakee, and
Keokuk. And in 1928 it also placed an electric piano in the lobby,
just like any honky-tonk, but that didn't help get the customers in.
At one time they had Wednesday morning try-outs at the
Palace, with all the managers, agents, and bookers watching for
future greats, as the talent barrel was running low. There were
about fifteen acts a week at these try-outs; they picked about one
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 490
out of seventeen acts that was good enough to play the circuit.
In 1926 there was an acrobatic tumbler by the name of Sie
Tahar who opened the show. As he was about to go on, he turned
to Bill Clark, the stage manager, and said, "They say opening acts
always die at the Palace. Me no die." After his act he went to his
dressing room and dropped deadl
It was not until 1928 that Clayton, Jackson & Durante first
played there, and they "rocked the joint/* Sally Rand, in an act
with eight girls, did a toe dance and Variety said, "Too much
on the gal/7 (She was a bit plump.) In 1930 the Gaudschmidts
(a very funny act), who were at the Palace with their acrobatic
French poodles, were reviewed by Variety. Sime said, 'The Gaud-
schmidts, lately returned from Paris with their French Poodles;
the dogs wanted to behave as though still in Paris— one of those
things that couldn't happen again in 100 years on the stage/'
When Crock, the famous European clown, played the house in
1920 there was a large printed sign in the lobby reading, "We
guarantee him because we set his salary after seeing him/' (Crock
went on at the Riverside without billing for a few shows to kinda
try out his act for America and was a riot, taking over a dozen
bows.)
In 1924 they barred bare legs. They also had signs backstage,
"You must only take two &ows/T This was because acts at the
Palace were getting into a bad habit of jockeying for applause and
using all kinds of tricks to get it. Some would take out an instru-
ment for bows, practically asking the audience to "ask me to play
it/' Jack Kenny (Kenny & Hollis) had a funny one; when bowing
he would yell to the audience, "Make me dance," and his partner
would drag him off. Some acts would tell the stage electrician to
put out the lights as soon as they finished. They would go out on
stage for a bow in the dark, then walk off apparently in disgust.
The audience, figuring they weren't getting a good break, would
applaud, and just as they came on again the lights would go out
again; the audience never figured they were being tricked. In this
way an act that would ordinarily get two bows "stole" a half a
dozen. Many of the acts saved the best of their act for an encore,
so that is why the "Two bow" sign, but it did no good, because
when a good act only took two bows, the audience kept applaud-
ing and the next act couldn't go on. And of course the headlines
wouldn't think of taking less than a half a dozen bends, whether
THE PALACE 491
they earned them or not, so the two-bow rule in a few weeks just
remained a sign. Another good idea of Albee's gone wrong.
Albee issued an order not to play any radio acts, because he felt
that radio was terrific opposition to vaudeville. ("Why pay $2.00
for an act you can hear on the radio for free?'7) Anyway, when
Mr. Albee needed a box-office attraction, he would break his own
rules. Harry Richman was a big hit on radio and was receiving
great publicity, so they booked him with his Harry Richman Night
Club floor show, "A Night at the Club Richman.7' He proved a
big hit and a big B.O. draw.
Funny, when the Palace opened in 1913 you saw hardly any
actors hanging around outside; they were all around Hanimer-
stein's in those days, figuring Forty-seventh Street was too far up-
town. But in 1916 the police handed out summonses to actors for
loitering outside the Palace and obstructing traffic, and they were
fined $2.00 to $3.00! When Bernhardt opened at the Palace, prices
were raised to $1.50, $2.00, and $2.50 (specs moved in later and
on Saturday and Sunday nights they would get as high as $10 a
pair).
In 1914 the Castles played two houses at one time, Hammer-
stein's (which was only five blocks away) and the Palace. They
had a twelve-piece Negro orchestra and at Hammerstein's the
musicians wouldn't let them play in the pit, so Vernon Castle put
them on the stage (the first time a Negro orchestra played on
the stage for any other kind of an act). It became a craze and
many dancing acts used Negro musicians.
That same year the Palace ran the Harry Lauder picture and
billed the name Lauder very big and the word picture very small.
This is the same Lauder to whom the Keith Circuit had refused to
pay $c;oo a week before he came over when he was booked by
K. & E. for their Advanced Vaude for $2,500; he later received
four and five thousand a week for William Morris.
Hammerstein's was feeling the Palace opposition. They ran
twenty-two-act bills and gave out mint gum which the manu-
facturer gave to Hammerstein (2,000 packages) at each perform-
ance in return for a mention of the product on the picture sheet at
the finish of the show. The Palace served free lemonade at the
matinees.
The Palace decided that during the warm weather, when theater-
goers are mostly transients, holdover acts would be O.K. An act
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 492
would be signed for a four- to six-week run, "but was announced
from week to week as having been such a hit that it was being held
over for another week. The acts would take these contracts because
they figured a ran at the Palace would give them prestige in the
other houses and with the other circuits. They would naturally
accept a low summer salary. Adelaide & Hughes had the longest
run at the Palace, twelve weeks. Frank Fay stayed for eight weeks,
Kate Smith for eleven, Eddie Cantor and George Jessel for nine,
Lou Holtz and William Gaxton for eight. Ruth Roye was held
for six weeks; so was Sylvester Schaffer; Nora Bayes stayed four;
Molly Picon, three.
Belle Baker was the first single woman to close the show at the
Palace, and Bert Fitzgibbons the first male single to do it. Savoy &
Brennan were the first male team to be held over (1917) . In 1915
the Palace ran a style show of women's fashions from leading dress-
makers. It made quite a hit and was held over. This show later was
copied by other metropolitan theaters and even by the small time.
In 1918 the Palace was tops for big shows; nothing even ap-
proached it in the other houses. They paid top prices for talent,
but that doesn't always make for a good show. There were other
large theaters that also called for big high-priced programs, like
the Riverside, the Brooklyn Orpheum, the Majestic and Palace in
Chicago, the Keith houses in Philly, Boston, Washington, Detroit,
etc. The Palace played to capacity, and the few weeks it didn't
were due to the weakness of the featured turns, often the headliner,
but that didn't often happen at the Palace!
In 1920 the Palace was still the kingpin vaude house money-
maker, with a $2.00 top scale on week days. It was the Palace that
overclassed vaude. It had been predicted long before that it would
set styles, and it did. Acts began to build for the Palace; but then
they had to take the same act over the circuit, and out of New
York the audiences didn't go very much for the "class" acts or the
ones that pulled "nifties" that the "smarties" at the Palace would
howl at. Even there, the gang out front was getting a bit tired of
too much "class0; they would have hugged an old-time tramp
comedian.
There have been many acts that claimed to have played the Ace
House more times than anyone else. A good standard act would
play it sometimes three and four times a year. York & King claim
the championship, as do the Mosconi Bros.; the latter played it
THE PALACE 493
with many acts — their own double act, the Bessie Clayton act,
their family act, etc. Belle Baker, Sophie Tucker, Van & Schenck,
Nora Bayes, and Jack Wilson are certainly way up there on the
"most times" list. It is very hard to check.
By 1925 there were claques working on Monday matinees (open-
ing show) at the Palace. Acts were getting receptions on their
entrance and applause at the finish beyond their due. This was
accomplished through agents distributing tickets to friends with
instructions to applaud for their act (maybe their first appearance
at the Palace; if they made good they would naturally get more
bookings, etc.). Music publishers also gave out tickets for some-
one who was using their songs on the show, and the acts would
give out tickets to their friends and relatives. It didn't fool the
smart bookers, critics, or actors, but the audience thought the act
was a hit. Claques are not good for any part of show biz (they
have been using them at the opera for years) . It tends to slow up
a show. It certainly wasn't good for the Palace.
You would never believe that an egg was thrown at a performer
in the classiest house in the world. The actor was one of the nicest
guys in the sports world, Benny Leonard, the champion. Benny did
a great act, and it was said the egg was thrown by an enemy of
his. I never knew he had one.
It was 1925 when they tried "timetable billing"; the acts were
listed according to the time they went on, but of course even in
this billing some acts were in larger letters than others. Georgie
Price got double billing (the first time that ever happened) be-
cause he was doing two acts, his own single and an afterpiece,
"Joe's Blue Front/'
For years the Palace had a sidewalk patrol whose business it was
to watch the specs and stop the people at the door who bought
from them. In 1926 things got a bit tough for the Palace, so they
laid off the patrol, as there weren't many specs around anymore,
and they started to bolster business by selling large blocks of
tickets at reduced prices to lodges, societies, clubs, etc.
It must have been tough getting headliners for the Palace in
1926, because they booked Eva Tanguay, who earlier in the season
had played Loew's State (just a few blocks down the street).
Loew's top was fifty cents while the Palace was getting $3.00. Eva
broke all records at the State and did very well at the Palace. I
guess Mr. Albee had a bit of the jitters that year too, because he
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 494
again issued an order not to take more than two bows (which again
was soon broken), and he also gave orders to cut out the spotlight
and the drum crashes, claiming, "There's too much noise in vaude-
ville theaters/' The spotlight had become a part of practically every
act. Where years ago an act would use a spotlight only to call
attention to a certain number, the acts later began using a spot
even with full lights up; they certainly did abuse it, but that rule
too was broken as soon as Albee got back to his office. Toward
the end of the year Albee really did get nervous because the oppo-
sition of the films was definitely being felt, so the Palace cut
salaries of all employees and dismissed porters and cut everything
down. Nobody gets panicky quicker than show people.
The handwriting on the wall for the Palace showed up in 1929
when on March 10 it started three shows a day on Sundays, and
upped the budget to $i2,ooo-a-week bills. They even published a
small magazine, Magazine of Vaudeville, which was a giveaway
(no charge), but that didn't help either. (They didn't know that a
panic was in the making for everybody in and out of show biz.)
Some sort of a first was established by the Four Small Bros,
(white boys) when they doubled at the Palace and Loew's State
on the same day, opening the show at the Palace and closing the
show at the State, where they complained to the management for
putting them in the Louis Armstrong act. (The Small brothers
were Southerners, but there were very few incidents of this kind in
all of vaudeville.) They were trying everything at the Palace to
get biz; they played the Roxy Ballet with Patricia Bowman and
Leonide Massine. They also played Heywood Broun, who in my
opinion was a fine monologist.
Everybody was going in each other's acts. (This originally started
years ago as a "gag/') On closing nights, when we all had to make
trains and were all going in different directions, we had no time
to wait around to say good-by to each other, and so for a laugh we
would walk out in the middle of some guy's act, dressed in street
clothes and carrying our grips, and say good-by. Some of these
things turned out to be very funny with ad-lib kidding. This was
nothing like the afterpieces, which were rehearsed.
It was funny to see the Palace now playing acts direct from
opposition houses. They were also playing acts from radio, which
they had barred for a long time, and found that they were their
best drawing cards, and they were also playing picture actors.
THEPALACE 495
Talking pics were beginning to cancerize vaude; the doctors
ordered the Palace to be wired for sound. It was the beginning of
the end. Talking pictures were the noise that chased vaudeville.
The Palace was beginning to drip red ink? with losses of $4,000
a week. The house was being used as a "flash" for stockholders and
bankers, because by now it was big business— not in the theaterr
but on the stock market, making $150,000 to $200,000 a year profit,
with weekly grosses about $20,000 to $25,000, and bills costing
$10,000 to $13,000 a week. In the old days bills cost $8,000 a week
and showed $800,000 a year profit. Now they had to pay big
salaries to acts because of the big pic-house opposition, but even
the Palace could offer them only three or four weeks, and the
other houses on the circuit couldn't pay those salaries at all. The
Palace found that to play and pay them was just a whim and a
very expensive flash! In 1930 Eddie Cantor was booked at the
Palace for $7,700 a week (alone). The next year Cantor and
George Jessel were the first in Palace history to be booked for an
eight-week run, that is, to get an eight-week contract in advance.
The show cost $16,000, Cantor getting $8,000, which was the tops
for anyone in vaude up to that time. They broke all Palace records,
but even the great Eddie Cantor and Georgie Jessel on their eighth
week lost $3,000, doing $25,000 on the week. On their seventh week
they did $28,000, which missed by $100 being an even break. They
had a nine-week run. After the Cantor-Jessel show, the house went
to straight pics with Cantor's picture, Kid from Spain.
They tried everything that year at the Palace. To keep people
in the house, the headliners were closing the shows. There was a
big eight-week run with Lou Holtz, William Gaxton, and Kate
Smith. Ethel Merman was in for the first week and was replaced
with Kate Smith, who stayed eleven weeks. They did $30,000
grosses and were a big hit (the first entire show to be held over at
the Palace). Walter Winchell got $3,500 for his week there, his
first pro booking on a stage in ten years. He was a big draw and
really did a good act, working with everybody on the show.
In 1932 they used plenty of microphones for the radio acts, and
had a Radio Week. They tried a stage-band-presentation style for
the first time in September, with a four-act show and pic. Acts
stretched out to eight, counting specialties of the Waring Band.
Fred did M,C. In November they tried a Film Name Week for
the last full week of vaude-film policy, with Arthur and Florence
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 496
Lake, Lina Basquette, Nick Stuart, Sue Carol, Stuart & Lash,
M. C. Dolinoff, and the Raya Sisters (dancers), all silent-pic
people.
Dennis King headlined during a hot July week and did $8,000,
which was $1,000 under the Palace low for eighteen years.
January 19 saw Milton Berle for his first time at the Palace. He
did his act and also M.C. He was a terrific hit and the talk of the
town for months, creating a lot of resentment among actors be-
cause he was saying on the stage that he took for material every-
thing he remembered. But the guy certainly wowed 'em! It was his
springboard to fame and fortune.
The Palace was not then Big Time but continuous performances.
Martin Beck came back to his office with no title or salary but
just to be there in an advisory capacity (no advice could help the
Palace now) . York & King announced that they were playing their
fiftieth engagement at the Palace.
Frank Fay? with Barbara Stanwyck, came back to the house of
his early triumphs and had a struggle as M.C. Fay dropped out
and Barbara Stanwyck finished the third week alone. Gus Van
replaced Fay.
On July 12 Louis Sobol, the noted columnist, was the headline^
doing his first stage appearance, and did a $8,000 gross. May saw
the last two-a-day at the Palace, with a loss of $14,000. On May 17
a new grind policy was introduced, with ten acts doing four and
five shows a day. They put a new box office in the street ( & la pic
house). The show was Phil Baker, June and Cherry Preisser, the
Gus Edwards Act (with Gloria Gilbert, the Human Top, and
Hildegarde), Von Grona's dancers, King Bros. & Cully, Will Oak-
land, Joe Laurie, Jr., & Nephews, Eddie Garr (also doubled in
Edwards' act), Ethelind Terry, and the Jack Denny Orchestra.
Show went into the red for $11,000. Martin Beck issued an order:
no speeches! Four acts made them. The loss at the Palace since
January was now $100,000.
That year there was a new all-time low in salary at the Palace.
"Glad Rags/7 a nine-person hoofing act with John Convey and
eight gals, received $100, which made it 45 cents a show! (The
great wondrous Palace!)
It got so bad that on January 17, 1933, the Palace played "freak
acts" (anything to make a buck and satisfy the stockholders)*
They booked Prince Mike Romanoff, who was enjoying much pub-
THE PALACE 497
licity (and who now in his swank Hollywood Restaurant makes
more dough in a night than they took in the week he played at
the Palace), Mrs. Freddie Rich (wife of the band leader), and
Jack De Ruyrer with a twelve-piece band; just imagine the beautiful
divorcee and her Park Avenue playboy playing the Palace! The
only noise they heard was Willie Hammerstein's laugh from
Heaven. He wasn't laughing at them, but at the Palace, which had
put him out of business. On February 7 the bill was Felovis, the
Arnaut Bros., Benny Leonard with Eddie Moran, Bob Murphy,
and the Walter Powell Orchestra. The picture was The Bitter
Tea of General Yen. It was bitter tea for the Palace too, because
they went into straight pics again.
It was the eighth policy change since straight vaude was dropped
in 1932. The Palace reversal of vaude-film to film was a flop
(couldn't get good pics). Sydney S. Cohen, a well-known picture
operator, took over the Palace for three weeks, showed a profit of
$7,500, of which he got a third, but RKO asked for the house back.
I guess they figured anybody that could make dough with the
Palace at that time was too smart, so they wanted the house back
before he took that too!
In 1934 the Palace hit a new low. Timmy & Freddy Sepia
(hoofers) set a precedent for the theater by using it as a break-in;
they lasted two shows. By now the Palace was playing at 40 cents
to 65 cents top. Ray Conners, the manager, a good showman,
had buses stop there and the guide say, "And now, ladies and
gentlemen, on your right is the famous Palace. This is the theater
every vaudeville actor aspires to play." And many of the "pop-
eyes" (sightseers to you) believed him! Because they had read so
much about this Magic Palace.
In 1935 it really got worse. The Palace played straight pictures,
with double features (no vaude), plus a preview of corning pics
on Thursday nights. Again a change of policy to vaude and pics,
and the last show of that was September 25, 1935, with Clara
Barry and Orville Whitledge, Carl Freed and His Harlequin Har-
monicans, Helene Reynolds and Her Skating Sweethearts, Clyde
Hager, and Dick and Edith Barstow. Page Miss Glory and Top
Hat started the final pic policy.
And just for the record, in 1950 there was a revival of vaudeville
at the Palace, which showed that vaude pays off on Broadway, but
not generally*
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 498
As you see, there were many changes at the Palace after 1913,
when it opened with top-notch two-a-day. The real two-a-day went
out when the Lou Holtz-Billy Gaxton and the Cantor-Jessel type
show came in, and when Frank Fay did bits with acts— that wasn't
what I would call the real pure vaudeville show that the Palace
started with. It was great entertainment, but it wasn't vaudeville.
But when the two-a-day died, then the Palace on Broadway and
Forty-seventh Street, New York City, was just the same as a pic
house named the Palace in Broadlooms, North Dakota. It was like
a dame in the Follies who lost her shape, like a fine Shakespearean
actor who just mumbles his lines, and like a dancer who couldn't
find the rosin box!
Yop— you can write a book just about the Palace, because it was
a theater with a personality. It made millionaires and bums! It
was the "hope chest" of many vaudevillians. It paid off many an
act for struggling years through the tank towns, and it shattered
the hopes of many more that just couldn't "make it."
And yet, did you know there were a number of acts that were
offered dates at the Palace and wouldn't take them. Because they
would get nervous about it. It meant new wardrobe, touches from
old friends who figured when you played the Palace you were
loaded, the missus had to have her hair done and would get into
a nervous breakdown worrying about her wardrobe.
Amos Jn* Andy feared playing the Palace, claiming that actors
didn't like their stuff and the Palace catered to actors. They ap-
peared in all the other theaters. (I knew more actors that listened
to Amos 'n* Andy than to anyone else— but as I told you some
performers had a phobia about playing the Palace.)
The youngsters took a chance with a heartful of hope. Playing
the Palace helped fill up your scrapbook and your ego. Sometimes
it boosted the salary and, again, sometimes it knocked you out of
a route if you flopped. Anyway, it was a great Fairyland for many
of us. Even if it turns into a garage, it will still be the Palace of
great memories to many of the boys and girls who went through
that stage door twice a day.
THE STATE THEATRE 499
"He shall return no more£o his house, neither shall
his place know him any more." — Job 7:10
On Tuesday, December 23, 1947, I saw Vaudeville laid out in
state, or maybe I should say, laid out at the State! It was the last
vaudeville show for the State Theatre after a continuous run of
twenty-six years. They hung the closing notice on the Christmas
Tree!
These wakes were nothing new to me. I was at the closing of
Hammerstein's, the New York Theatre, and the Palace (as M.C.,
if you can picture a wake having an M.C.). It wasn't a surprise
when they went; we knew they were ailing for6 years before the
finish came. But with the State it was different, it all came so
suddenly. The doctors in the main office (who count the heart-
beats of the box-office till, claimed that death was caused by high
blood pressure (too much red ink) .
In memory, twenty-six years is just a short step. To me it seems
like only yesterday that the State Theatre opened with great fan-
fare. What a day that was for show biz in general and for Marcus
Loew in particular. Loew had watched this dream child of his grow
from his office window in the Putnam Building until the day of
August 29, 1921, when the doors were opened. All of show biz
carnc to pay tribute to this fine man, Marcus Loew. It was not a
phony Hollywood opening, even if E. F. Albee, whose Palace was
just up the street, did send his Keith Boys' Band to serenade the
opposition. They played in front of the State, and what's more,
they played goodl
Inside the theater, Will Morrisey, one of Broadway's wittiest
children, acted as M.C,, introducing great stars of vaude, musical
comedy, and pics. There was also a great finale with all the
Ziegfeld Follies girls led by David Warfield and Marcus Loewl
How proud Nils T. Granlund (N.T.G.) was, for it was he who
masterminded all the publicity and arrangements. Joe Vogel, now
one of the top execs (V.P.) of the Loew organization, was the first
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 500
manager of the house, then came Joe Emmett (ex-yodeler) , follow-
ing him was Ken Behr (ex-war aviator), then George Miner (one
of the famous Miner theatrical family), and then Al Rosen, who
stayed for over fifteen years and left to become an independent
producer. (He brought Mae West bade to the stage.) He was one
of the best-liked managers in the business. Joe Jordan was the first
leader and was followed by Ruby Swerling, who shook his baton
at actors and musicians for nearly twenty years at the State, and
at the closing there were many men in the pit who had started with
him. Nick Massa took over the stage management even before the
house was finished and retired when the house went into straight
pictures, Richard Block was the first doorman (after working at
the American for eighteen years), and the stage doorman was
Louis Samelson, a grand guy who is still at the State. The booker,
of course, was lovable Jake Lubin.
They ran four shows a day with the acts doing three, using five
acts each show. Loew put long pants on small-time vaude. Vaude-
ville actors smiled; it was another week added to the fast-growing
small time!
A funny thing about the State, on opening day they found that
they had forgotten to build dressing rooms! (This has happened
a number of times in show biz. The Savoy on Thirty-fourth Street
and Madison Square Garden both had no dressing rooms when
they opened.) The actors would go across the street to the New
York Theatre, get dressed and made up, and come back to do their
acts at the State. Loew bought the building on 160 West Forty-
sixth Street, built dressing rooms, and had a bridge inside connect-
ing the building with the back stage; the building also had offices
for the franchised agents of the Loew Circuit.
I was sitting that Tuesday night of the last show wondering
what Marcus Loew was saying to his cronies "upstairs." I imagined
they were all kinda sad up there, where now there were no jealousies,
opposition, or blacklists. I am sure they all felt badly to see vaude-
ville on Broadway become only a memory, B. F. Keith, E. F.
Albee, Tony Pastor, Percy Williams, F. F. Proctor, Oscar and
Willie Hammerstein, Martin Beck, William Morris, Mike Shea,
Pantages, Poli, Sullivan & Considine, the great giants and pioneers
of vaudeville, must have shed a tear when they saw the passing of
vaudeville from the State Theatre— the poor man's Palace!
In past days when an actor stopped filling his scrapbooks with
THE STATE THEATRE 501
glowing notices from the two-a-day and decided to fill his bank-
books with memorabilia for a future day, he began to play the
State. The topnotchers of the two-a-day slowly yielded to the
smaller money but steadier routes of the Loew Circuit, of which
the State was the show window. Van & Schenck, Eva Tanguay,
Amelia Bingham, Jim Barton, Jack Norworth, Imhof, Conn &
Corinne, Clark & Verdi, Lillian Shaw, Sophie Tucker, and so many
more vaudeville greats would shuttle back and forth between the
Palace and the State when the barriers were broken down by the
shortage of talent. The actors saved their small-time dough; they
were tired of being stalled, kicked around, blacklisted, and salary-
sliced. So they played for Loew, and Loew was happy; he was
building a great circuit.
From my seat on the mourner's bench that Tuesday night, I
watched the last rites given to my favorite love, Vaudeville. They
were administered by the children of Vaudeville. Jack & Charlie
Brick said a few words in the only way they knew how, with a
fine routine on the trampoline. They were followed by George
Andre Martin, who spoke for Vaudeville with his dancing fingers
and tapped out a eulogy. Then out came a little gal who has
been a great part of vaudeville all over the world, Molly Picon,
who on this last show sang with an honest catch in her throat; as
one of Vaudeville's favorite children she was a true mourner. She
was followed by Dave Apollon, another favorite of the Vaudeville
family; he played 'The Requiem" on his magic mandolin. Then
came one of Vaudeville's younger children, Jack Carter, who paid
his tribute as a youngster should, with laughs! Laughs, the founda-
tion of vaudeville! He didn't feel the closing of the State to
vaudeville as a great loss. He is young and talented and has many
places to go. He was followed by Harold & Lola in their novelty
snake dance. Lola represents a snake while Harold is a snake
charmer, and finally the snake bites the charmer and he dies. That
was a very fitting closing act for the occasion.
Then out on the stage stepped the one and only George Jessel,
dressed in black tails and white tie, matched with a black toupee
with white sides. He sort of gave the funeral a touch of "class."
He got a big reception. I thought, well, here is where George will
tell them in his own inimitable way about the heart of vaudeville
and what these closings mean to the old-timers who still carry a
song and dance in their hearts. What a great job of reminiscence
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 502
he could have done. But he just said, "I wasn't invited here. I
heard vaudeville is finished here tonight. So I thought I'd drop in
and tell you folks that talent never can die/7 With that George
bowed and walked off. Maybe George was right, why talk about
something which very few seemed to care about? The only one
interested was our own little Vaudeville family circle.
But while George was talking I was thinking of the Broadway I
knew when the State opened. Memories of 1921 rose like par-
tridges. On the site of the present State Theatre was the old
Bartholdi Inn, also the Variety office, and Mack, the tailor, who
designed those large elk lapels for his actor clientele. O'Hearn, the
cleaner, was also a tenant in the building. He was an ex-Irish tenor
of vaudeville and maybe didn't like his spot on the bills, because
the catch line in his ads read; "We remove that spot!" And there
were many gravy spots on actors' clothes in those eating days of
vaudeville. O'Hearn always wore a white carnation in his button-
hole. There were a number of carnation wearers in those clays;
Ted Marks, Jules Delmar, James K. Hackett, Arthur Levy, Jackie
Osterman, and Arthur Caesar never missed the lapel decoration.
I remembered the Loew Booking Office in the American Theatre
Building, where Joe Schenck was the head booker and Jack Gold-
berg his office boy. In a short time, Jack became the head booker
and Joe Schenck became the big man in pics. It was Jack Gold-
berg's good judgment and knowledge of acts that helped Locw
give such good shows. There was N.T.G. (Nils T. Granlund) as a
press agent who revolutionized vaude and picture exploitation. He
was followed by Terry Turner, Arthur Schmidt, Oscar Doob, and
Ernst Emerlin— all great. There was Charlie Moscowitz, a young
bookkeeper, who now is V.P., and Marvin Schenck, an office boy,
now producer at M-G-M.
I recall the tops of the old-time Loew managers, Gene Meyers,
Vic Morris, Larry Beatus, and Charlie Potsdam. There were kids
in the office like Leo Cohn and Jesse Kay who became assistant
bookers; Sydney Piermont, another kid raised by the organization,
was the last booker the circuit had, a very competent one. A great
bunch of guys who reflected the head of the organization — Marcus
Loewi
Thirty-two years ago, when the State had its housewarmmg,
Broadway was much different than it is today. Prohibition had
most of the night spots closed, but there still remained some of the
THE STATE THEATRE 503
old places for the gang that weren't going to speak-easies. Joel's,
Anselmo's, Blue Hour, Maxim's on Thirty-eighth Street, the Ted
Lewis Club, Reisenweber's, where Sophie Tucker took over the top
floor and was doubling in vaude dates with an act written for her
by Jack Lait. Scotch was selling at $115 a case, rye for $100, and
gin for $60— and all of it bad! There was Shanley's Cafe de Paris,
the Little Club, Palais Royal, and Folies Bergere, all running
without booze, and in a short time they too had to fold. People
were complaining that one-step and waltzes were "morgue stuff";
fox trots were the rage. The most-played pop dance tunes were
"Yoohoo," "Ka-Lua," "Blue Danube Blues," "When Buddha
Smiles/' "In Old Granada/' "April Showers," and "Say It with
Music/'
"Zit" had the Casino in Central Park, Eva Tanguay advertised
about her $5,000 job of face-lifting, Minsky was still at the Na-
tional Wintergarden on Second Avenue, John Golden had seven
hits including Frank Bacon in Lightning Sam Harris had nine
shows on the road and in New York and six theaters in Chicago,
Billy Grady, now M-G-M casting director, was a vaude agent,
Jack Benny was doing a single, Paul Ash was playing with his
orchestra in Frisco and Al Lewis and Max Gordon were vaude
agents and producers of skebches. Mae Murray did Peacock Alley
for Metro, D. W. Griffith had Orphans of the Storm, Harry Lauder
was making his farewell tours under management of William
Morris, Joe LeBlang was selling cut-rate tickets, Mollie Williams
was one of the stars of burly, Mitzi was in Lady Billyy Irene had
three touring companies, and Al Jolson was breaking records in
Bomfco.
Broadway those days was hot summer and winter, and Loew's
State was certainly part of it all. It kept a candle burning on the
altar of Vaudeville long after the Palace blew theirs outl
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 504
The Big Parade
Dear Joe,
This is the last letter I'm going to write you for a while because
me and Aggie are going for a little vacation to see our grand-
children, if you can call that a vacation. We are gonna check up
on rem, as they are now at the age where they are singing, dancing,
and making faces like Jerry Lewis. So me and Aggie are gonna
give them a sort of an audition, and if they show any talent, we'll
''pencil rem in" for 1965; we figure by then people will be tired
of Cinerama, three-dimension pictures, radio, and TV and the
"Vaudeville Cycle" will start again. We don't figure to be around
then, but if you happen to pass a marble orchard and see the dirt
moving, you will know it's the old vaude vets applauding the
new kids!
The other afternoon I fixed me and Aggie a couple of highballs,
and sitting at the window we saw one of the finest parades we
ever saw.
The parade started way down on the Bowery from a honky-tonk,
then it passed Tony Pastor's, Keith's Union Square, Proctor's
Twenty-third Street, then Proctor's Fifth Avenue, the Greeley
Square, then up to Eighth Avenue and Forty-second Street pass-
ing Loew's American, across to Broadway to Hammerstein's, then
they passed the State and finished at the Palace!
The sidewalks were jammed with people from all over the
country who saw many of these marchers in their home-town
theaters when they were young, and there were a few real old
people that saw the beginning of the parade and followed it up
to the finishing line, at the Palace!
There was a special reviewing stand at Duffy Square (facing the
Palace) which was filled with the owners, managers, bookers, and
agents. They rated these good seats because they did a lot for (and
to) vaudeville. We saw seated there William Morris and Marcus
Loew, B. F. Keith and E. F. Albee, J. J. Muidock, F. F. Proctor,
Tony Pastor, P. G. Williams, Mike Shea, Oscar and Willie Ham-
merstein, Martin Beck, Sullivan and Considine, Alex Pantages,
THE BIG PARADE
505
William Fox, Eddie Darling, Dan Hennessy, S. K. Hodgdon, Max
Hait, Gene Hughes, Harry Weber, M. S. Bentham, Harry Jordan
and Elmer Rogers-— these were just a few of 'em. Me and Aggie
were kinda wondering what they were thinking of when they saw
the children of Lady Vaudeville passing by. Many must have felt
proud and a few ashamed, I am sure.
On the northwest corner of Forty-sixth Street and Broadway
(where the White Rats' club used to meet, above Churchill's) there
stood a small loyal group of White Rats, who tried to do so many
good things for these marchers years ago. They made mistakes, but
they were honest ones, and they had the satisfaction of knowing
that it was through their fighting that many things didn't happen
to the actor that could have. They were invited to sit in the special
stand, but they couldn't sit with some of the managers who had
had them on their blacklists for years and deprived them of a liv-
ing. So they all stood at that sacred corner and watched the parade
(and even pointed to the few that were disloyal— those turned
their heads away when passing). There was George Fuller Golden,
the founder of the White Rats, with nearly all of his original gang,
Jim Dolan, Dave Montgomery, Tom Lewis, Sam Ryan, Sarn
Morton, and Mark Murphy, and of course Harry Mountford. They
were singing the White Rats' fighting song, loud enough for the
managers and agents in the stands to hear.
''And this shall be our battle cry,
Be Brave, Be Brave, Be Brave.
Fight for the White Rats 'till you die,
And never be a slave or knave
And when the fight is over, boys,
Be proud of your stars,
For the Rats that live in Ratland
Are the real White Stars!
(Shouted) Rats! Rats! Rats! Stars!"
Even the bands couldn't clrown them out!
On the northeast corner of Broadway and Forty-fifth Street,
outside Loew's State Theatre where the Variety office was for many
years, there stood Sime, Chicot, Jack Conway, Jolo, and Jack
Pulaski from Variety, William H. Donaldson from the Billboard,
"Zit" from Zit's Weekly, Frank Queen from the Clipper, and
reporters and editors from the Morning Telegraph, New York
Pages Torn Out of Old Vaudeville 506
Star, the Player, Dramatic Mirror, and many other theatrical trade
papers. They knew all the marchers, because for many years they
bathed them in printer's ink, and some of them in red ink (those
who never paid for their ads) .
The parade was led by Eva Tanguay, swinging a diamond baton
—as the Spirit of Vaudeville!
She was followed by bands led by John Philip Sousa, then there
were Creatore, Arthur Pryor, Ben Bernie, Six Brown Brothers,
Dixieland Jazz Band, House of David Band, Kiltie's Band, Boston
Fadettes, and you could hear the golden notes from the cornet of
Jules Levi. All the great musical acts were playing their favorite
instruments; it was a sensation.
Then came the monologists and entertainers led by Harry
Lauder, Al Jolson, Will Rogers, and Bert Williams, followed by
Fred Niblo, Ezra Kendall, }, C. Nugent, Clifton Crawford, Gus
Williams, Jim Thornton, Honey Boy Evans, Nat Wills, Cliff
Gordon, Ernest Hogan, Herb Williams, Albert Chevalier, George
Lashwood, Leon Errol, Raymond Hitchcock, Bill Fyfe, and Wilkie
Bard!
They were followed by the "single women" (as they always have
been through the centuries). Right in the front line were Nora
Bayes, Maggie Cline, Marie Dressier, Vesta Victoria, Gertrude
Lawrence, and Fannie Brice. Then came Irene Franklin, Florence
Moore, Alice Lloyd, Marie Cahill, May Irwin, Bonnie Thornton,
Cissie Loftus, Lottie Gilson, Mme. Schumann-Heink, Mnie. Calve,
Dorothy Jardon, and Vinnie Daly.
The clowns were great, led by Slivers Oakley, Toto, and Marce-
line. They were followed by our lovable "talking clowns/7 you
know, our "bad boys" that were so good: Frank Tinney, Bert
Fitzgibbons, Jimmy Duffy, Jack Inglis, Harry Breen, Joe Towlc,
Arthur Rigby, Frank Van Hoven, Neil McKinley, Roy Cummings,
Jackie Osterman, Chappie Aveling, Jack Rose, Sid Lewis, and Ted
Healey, and those lovable guys, Johnny Stanley and Big Jim
Morton!
The two-man acts, with the straight man carrying a newspaper
in one hand, came next: Smith & Campbell, Gallagher & Shean,
Haines & Vidoq, Conroy & LeMaire, Raymond & Cavalry, the
Klien Bros., Fields & Wooley, Bert Swor and Charlie Mack; this
contingent was led by Weber & Fields and Mclntyre & Heath!
They in turn were followed by the mixed acts and sister acts.
THE BIG PARADE 507
Some marched singly while others were together: Charlie King
(Brice & King), Hal Skelly (Groody & Skelly), Mabel McCane
(Howard & McCane), Cecil Lean (Lean & Holbrook), Cooper &
Ricardo, Dooley & Sales, Mike Donlin & Mabel Kite, George
Felix & Lydia Barry, Harriet Lee (Ryan & Lee), Billy Gould
(Gould & Suratt), Melville & Higgins, Peter Donald, Sr. (Donald
& Carson); then there were Pauline & Marie Saxton, Yanci Dolly
(Dolly Sisters), McCarthy Sisters, Elinore Sisters, Nicholl Sisters,
and so many many more.
The dramatic acts were all riding in open barouches and taking
bows. They were led by a white coach carrying Sarah Bernhardt,
who received a terrific ovation. Following came barouches with
Lillian Langtry, Mrs. Campbell, Nance O'Neill, Amelia Bingharn,
Leslie Carter, and Mme. Nazimova. Then came Maurice and Jack
Barrymore, Nat Goodwin, Frank Keenan, James O'Neill, and
Tyrone Power, Sr. But the ones who got the laughs, riding in
hansom cabs, were Willard Simms, Ryan & Ritchfield, Cressy &
Dayne, Murphy & Nichols, Bert Baker, James & Sadie Leonard,
John C. Rice, Mr. & Mrs. Sidney Drew, and Gardner & Vincent.
The professional athletes were led by James J. Corbett and John
L. Sullivan, with Babe Ruth, Hackenschmidt, Jack Johnson,
Dorando and Hayes, Weston, Walthour, James J. Jeffries, Jack
Sharkey, and Bob Fitzsimmons.
The "family groups" were led by the Four Cohans, Jerry, Helen,
Josephine, and George M. Right behind them were Sam and Kitty
and their daughter Clara Morton, with Eddie Foy and his sons
Dick and Irving. The Dooleys, Bill, Johnny, and Gordon, all
received, an ovation.
The "hoofers" came dancing up the street led by George Prim-
rose, It was great to see Barney Fagan, Bill Robinson, Pat Rooney,
Sr., Jack Donahue, Hiram Brazil (Boyle & Brazil), Jack Doyle
(Doyle & Dixon), Phil Cook, Lulu Beeson, Bunny Granville, Lad-
die Cliff, Tom Dingle, Patsy Doyle, Al Leach, Needhain & Kelly,
and waltzing behind them came Bryan & Broderick, Vernon Castle,
dancing with Marilyn Miller, Lester Shean & Pearl Regav, Sawyer
& Jarrott, and Moss & Fontana. Maurice danced with Florence
Tamara, and Kosloff danced with Ulasta Maslova.
Then came the bicycle acts led by Joe Jackson, and behind him
came flocks of jugglers, magicians, acrobats, wire acts, boomerang
throwers, rope and casting acts. They were just wonderful.
Pages Tom Out of Old Vaudeville 508
The parade finished up with the greatest bunch of animal acts
you ever saw, from ponies and dogs to elephants: Powers' Ele-
phants, Adgie's Lions, Brandenberg's Bears, Meehan's Leaping
Dogs, Howard's Ponies, Consul the Monk, Barnold and his
Drunken Dog, trying to understand Don the Talking Dog—cats,
dogs, birds, and the rest all doing great routines. The kids went
wild about them.
When the parade came to the finishing line at the Palace, most
of it broke up. Some of the marchers kept right on going to join
other parades, like radio, pics, night clubs, and TV. Other acts just
dropped out; their feet and hearts hurt; they just couldn't go any
further. Quite a few never even reached the finishing line; they
fust couldn't make it-— and dropped out en route.
Toward the finish of the parade, we heard great shouting and
cheering and applause. This came mostly from the younger folks
in the crowd. When I asked what all the cheering was about,
•someone said that a big crowd of youngsters had joined the tail
end of the parade and were cutting up and had the crowds wild.
They were led by Danny Kaye, Sid Caesar, Irnogene Coca, Herb
Shriner, Red Buttons, Jackie Miles, Bob Crosby, Jane & Betty Keane,
Ceorge Goebells, Frank Sinatra, Alan Young, Judy Garland, Martha
Raye, Betty Hutton, Morey Amsterdam, Steve Allen, Robert Q.
Lewis, Sam Levenson, Danny Thomas, Jan Murray, Peter Lind
Hayes and Mary Healy, Frank Fontaine, Jack Carter, Willie Shore,
Marie Wilson, Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, Buddy Hackett, Larry
Storch, Lenny Kent, Jackie Gleason, Danny O'Connor, Jackie
Leonard, Gary Moore, Art Carney, Wally Cox, Dennis James,
•Cliff Arquette, Ward Wilson, Orson Beane, Jack Carson, Perry
Como, Peter Donald, Dagmar, Phil Foster, Phil Harris, Ernie
Kovac, Pinky Lee, Henry Morgan, Jimmy Nelson, Ozzie and
Harriet Nelson, Jack Parr, Carl Reiner, Joe Silver, Paul Winchell,
Jean Carroll, also a personality kid by the name of Arthur Godfrey,
and two of the craziest and most talented guys in show biz, Dean
Martin and Jerry Lewis I
Me and Aggie heard a lot about these fresh, talented youngsters,
but we couldn't wait, because it would be some time before they
would pass the finishing line, but I hope to write you about them
in the very near future. Me and Aggie like these kind of kids who
are full of vim, vigor, talent, and hopes with star dust in their eyes.
We are sure they will find the trail with such vaude-trained veteran
THE BIG PARADE 509
guides showing them the way as Ed Wynn, Eddie Cantor, Jack
Benny, Jimmy Durante, Bob Hope, Groucho Marx, Fred Allen,
Milton Berle, Ritz Bros., Bing Crosby, Fibber McGee & Molly,
Joe E. Brown, Ken Murray, Ben Blue, Abbott & Costello, Joe E.
Lewis, George Jessel, Patsy Kelly, Guy Kibbee, Judy Canova, Jack
Kirkwood, Jerry Lester, Mary Livingston, Walter O'Keefe, Olsen
& Johnson, Red Skelton, Edgar Bergen, Jerry Bergen, Jimmy Save,
Joan Davis, Bea Lillie, Bobby Clark, Jack Pearl, Smith & Dale,
Amos *n' Andy, Hildegarde, Burns & Allen, Pat Henning, Lulu
McConnell, Victor Moore, Fred Stone, Leo Carrillo, William Gax-
ton, Bert Lytell, Mary Margaret McBride, Fred Waring, and Paul
Whiteman, and the greatest Girl Scout of 'em all, Sophie Tucker!
Anyway, in my letters to you I want to tell you that when I
said the Palace, me and Aggie meant all the first-class two-a-day
houses in America. We figured the Palace was a symbol of all of
them and there were plenty of them, and believe me, they meant
more in the vaude picture than the Palace, New York, because they
were paying the bills. Without them there would have been no
vaudeville.
We tried to tell you about the children of Lady Vaudeville who
helped blaze the trail from the honky-tonks to the Palace.
Hope you enjoyed it as much as me and Aggie enjoyed thumbing
our memories of the most fascinating part of show biz — vaudevillel
SEZ
Your pal,
LEFTY
p.s. Thanks for the use of the hall.
INDEX
Index
A
A-B-C-D Quartette, 76
A & P Gypsies, 72
Aaron's, Mark, N.Y.C., 259, 302
Aaronson's Commanders, 72
Abbott, Annie May, 122, 224
Abbott & Costello, 256
Abeles, Edward, 50
Aber Twins, 1 50
Abernathy, Dick, 394
Aborn, Milton, 338, 343
Academy, West Superior, Wis., 1 5
Accompanists, 325-329
Ace, Goodman, 210, 213
Adkerman & Harris Circuit, 243
Acott & Bailey, 28
Acrobats, 28-37, 3l8~323J sample dia-
logue, 478
"Act Beautiful, The," 3 7
Actor's Forum, Variety, 70
Actors' Fund, 304, 347, 359, 370,410
Actors' Guilds, 303-304
Actor's Order of Friendship, 293
Adagio Trios, 46
Adair, Janet, 328
Adair, Jean, 50
"Adam Killjoy," 52
Adams, Eugene, 333
Adams, F, P., 213
Adams, Joey, 122
Adams, Suzanne, 78
Adams, Thomas, Jr., 354, 356
Adams & Ghul, 86, 235, 236
Adams & White, 64
Adams' Hotel, Joe, N.Y.C., 284
Adams House, Boston, 286
Adams Street Theatre, Brooklyn, 417
Ade, George, 49, 209, 487
Adelaide Apartments, N.Y.C., 281
Adelman, Josh, & Co., 64
Adelphi, Emma, 328
Adelphi Theatre, Chicago, 335
Adgie & Her Lions, 157
Adler, Charlie, 80
Adler, Felix, 231, 300
Adler, Jacob, 251
Adler, Larry, 73
Adler,Weill & Herman, 80
Adolphus, Ted, 46
Advanced Vaudeville, 133, 165, 372
Aerial acts, 31
Afterpieces, 12, 417-418; sample
script, 469-473
Agee, John, 166
Ahearn, Charles, & Co., 30
Ahearn's Millionaire Band, 73
Ahrenmeyer, an
Aitken, Robert I., 306
Akis, Grace, 348
Akst, Harry, 326, 327, 328
Alamac Hotel, St. Louis, 284
Alaphonese, 68
Alba, 33
Albee, E. F., 180, 294, 300, 337, 338-
341, 349, 352, 362-363, 367-368,
372, 373, 404-405, 482; biography
of, 342-347; in fight with White
Rats, 312-317
Albee Theatre, Brooklyn, 346
Albert Ten Polo Bears, 163
Albini, The Great, 108
513
INDEX
Alburtus & Weston, 25
Alcore, Vera, 42
Alder, Felix, 116
Aldrich, Charles T., 22, 96, 97, 138,
311
Aldrich, Mariska, 78
Alexander, Clara, 137
Alexander & Evelyn, 26
Alexander & Lightner Sisters, 79
Alexander & Scott, 90
Alexandre, Mons., 114
Alfred the Great (chimp), 164
Alfretti Sisters, 151
Algonquin Hotel, N.Y.C., 286
Alhambra, N.Y.C., 13
Alhambra Theatre, Harlem, 357
Ali, Joe, 242
Alice and Lolette (bears), 164
Allan & Canfield, 229
Allen, Edgar, 410
Allen, Fred, 21, 116, 186, 198, 231; &
Portland Hoffa, 230; & York, 489
Allen, Grade, 150, 228, 229, 231
Allen, Lester, 489; & Nellie Breen, 230
Allen, Maude, 41, 135, 391
Allen, Steve, 148, 230
Allen Sisters, Three, 1 50
Allister, Harry, 103
Allman, Jack, 79
Alpin, Charley, 235
Alter, Lou, 326, 327, 328
Althea Twin Sisters, 396
Altaian, Bob, 486
Altrock, Nick, 127
Alvora, 89
Alvord, Ned, 235-236
American Federation of Actors, 316
American Four, 321
American Talking Pictures Co,, 351
American Theatre, N.Y.C., 372
American Trumpeters, 67
Ames, Winthrop, 485
Amos 'n' Andy, 142, 253, 255
Anderson, Al and Mamie, 203
Anderson, Eddie, 205
Anderson, John, 210
Anderson, Max, 349
Anderson, Maxwell, 209
514
Anderson & Goines, 205
Anderson & Revell, 32
Andree's Studies, 37
Andrews, Lyle, 395
Anger, Lou, 184
Anger & Parker, 230
Anglin, Margaret, 50
Animal acts, 155-169
Annie, Judy & Zeke, 1 54
Anselmo's, N.Y.C., 503
Anson, Capt. Adrian C. "Pop," 126
Anthony & Rogers, 86
Apdale's Animals, 166
Apollo, 33
Apollon, Dave, 66, 73, 197, 488-489,
501
"Apple Tree, The," 52
Aquarium, N.Y.C., 13
Arbarbenell, Lina, 78
Arbuckle, Fatty, 402
Ardath, Fred, 52
Ardell, Franklyn, 52
Arlen, Harold, 328
Arlington Comedy Four, 76
Armento, Angelo, and brother, 28
Arms, Frances, 54, 59
Armstrong, Louis, 205, 494
Armstrong, Paul, 48, 209
Armstrong Sisters, 95
Arnaldo's Leopard and Panthers, 157
Arnaut Bros., 153, 497
Arthur, Julia, 50, 51
Artist acts, 211-213
Artoise Bros., 32
Arusa, 383
As a Man Thinks, 308
Asehi Troupe, Great, 109
Ashley, Lillian, 134
Ashton, Margaret, 137
Astaire, Fred, 129; & Adele, 45, 154
Astor, A, C., 114
Astor Court, N.Y.C,, 280
Astor Hotel, N.Y.C., 285-286
Athletes, 118-132
Athos, Percy, & Reeves, 32
Atkinson, George, 210
Atra, 109
Attell, Abe, 122
INDEX
515
Atwell, Roy, 49
Aug, Edna, 59, 99
Austin and Stone's Museum, Boston,
16
Austin Sisters, 151
Australian Woodchoppers, 214-215
"Automatic Minstrels, The/' 215
Autry, Gene, 255
Avalos, Four, 69
Aveling & Lloyd, 83, 85
Avers, Harry, 32
Avery & Hart, 136, 204
Avery Hotel, Boston, 286
Avery's Museum, Cincinnati, 16
Avon Comedy Four, 75-76, 136
Ayesha, 40
B
Bachellor, George H., 337, 342
"Back to Earth," 2 36
Baer, Abel, 326, 328
Baer, Bugs, 195, 209, 218
Baer, Max, 119, 123
Baggesons, The, 26
Baggot, King, 280
Bailey, Bill, 64
Bailey, Harry, 251, 414
Bailey, James Montgomery, 211
Bailey, Mildred, 206
Bailey, Pearl, 205
Bailey & Austin, 86
Baker, Belle, 54, 254, 323, 492, 493
Baker, Bert, 51
Baker, Doc, 98, 233
Baker, Edyth, 328
Baker, Josephine, 206, 254
Baker, Phil, 69, 86, 198, 496
Baldwin, Matty, 124
Ball, Ernie, 328
Ball, Rae, & Brother, 1 54
Ballroom dancers, 44-45
"Band Box Revue," 2 32
Bands, 70-73
Banjo Players, 64, 319, 322
Banjofiends, 67
"Banker and the Thief, The," 97
Bankoff, Ivan, & Girlie, 45, 46
Banyan, 111
Bard, Ben, 86
Bard, Wilkie, 89, 133-134, 197, 252,
489
Bards, Four, 137, 419
Barkley, May, 166
Barlow Brothers, 323
Barlows, Break-a-way, 31
Barnes, Gertrude, 59
Barnes & Crawford, 52
Barnett, Luke, 258
Barnett House, N.Y.C., 280
Barnold's Drunken Dog, 165-166
Barnum, P. T., 225, 337, 338
Barnum & Bailey Circus, 255, 295
Baron's Burlesque Menagerie, Charles,
167
Barr Twins, 1 50
Barretts, The, 320
Barretts, The Original, 26
Barrie, J. M., 49
Barrison, Mabel, 80
Barry, Billy, and Faye, 1 50
Barry, Bobby, 84, 100
Barry, Clara, & Emily, 150; and Or-
ville Whitledge, 497
Barry, Mr. & Mrs. Jimmy, 229
Barry, Lydia, 59
Barry & Barton, 32
Barry & Wolford, 230
Barrymore, Ethel, 51, 101, 146
Barrymore, John, 51, 146, 267-268,
281
Barrymore, Lionel, 51, 146, 308
Barrymore, Maurice, 123, 146, 209,
267
Bars tow, Dick and Edith, 497
Bartholdi Inn, N.Y.C., 279-280
Bartling, Anita, 24
Barton, Jim, 32, 46-47, 102, 197, 501
Barton & Ashley, 137
Baseball players, 124-128
Basquctte, Lina, 496
Bates, Peg Leg, 45
"Bathing Girls/' 232
Batie, Frank, 83
INDEX
"Battling Butler,** 233
"Battling Dugan," 51
Batty's Bears, 163
Bayes, 89
Bayes, Nora, 53, 57-58, 80, 135, 252,
326-327, 484, 492, 493; and Jack
Norworth, 109, 251, 261
Beach7 Hal, 303
Beane> Fanny, 320; & Charles Gilday,
227
Beatty, George, 198
Beatus, Larry, 502
Beaumont, Rose & Nellie, 151
Beautiful Jim Key (horse) , 165
Beaux Arts Caf6, 296
Beban, George, 51, 101, 137
Beclc, Louise (Mrs. Martin), 364
Beck, Martin, 26-27, 63, 70, 336, 349,
373, 482, 485, 496; biography of,
359-365
Becker, Herman, 300
Bedini & Arthur, 25-26, 90
Beeman & Anderson, 32
Beeson, Lulu, 15, 43
Beeson, Tom, 15
Behim, Arthur, 1 27
Behr, Ken,, 500
Belasco, Dave, 48, 375
Belasco Theatre, N.Y.C., 382
Belcher, Frank, 120
Bell, Jimmy, 386
Bell Family, 67, 148
Bella Pola, La (chimp), 164
Bellclaire Bros., 29, 138
Belle Union, San Francisco, 15
Belli, Les Marco, 109
Beltrah & Beltrah, 'The Musical
Dairy/1 66
Benchley, Bob, 5, 211
Bender, Chief, 126-127
Bennett, Miss Johnstone, 97
Bennett, Richard, 51, 209
Bennett, Wilda, 363
Bennett & Richards, 46
Bennett Sisters, 129, 151
Bennett's Frisco Syncopators, Bob, 72
Benny, Jack, 69, 92, 190, 255, 380,
489, 503.; & Mary Livingston, 230
516
Benton, B. H. (Rob Roy), 123-124
Beondi, Ugo, 98
Bera, Mabel, 487
Beresford, Harry, 50
Bergen, Edgar, 117, 254
Bergen Beach, Jamaica Bay, 355
Berger, W. S., 117
Bergere, Valerie, 51
Bergere Twins, 152
Bergman, Henry, 56, 231, 298
Berle, Milton, 102, 198, 234, 255,
296, 380, 496
Berlin, Irving, 13, 295, 307
Berlo Sisters, 34-35
Bernard, Barney, 177
Bernard, Mike, 61, 252, 328
Bernard, Sam, 198, 233
Bernardi, Arthur, 98
Bernevici Brothers, 153
Bernhardt, Sarah, 50, 251, 361, 363,
482, 491
Bernheimer Bros,, Baltimore, 240
Bernie, Ben, 69, 71, 72, 86, 102, 198,
2 54
Bernstein, Freeman, 412
Bernstein, Phil, 122
Bernstein, Rube, 297, 300
Berrens, Musical, 90, 153
Berry's Varieties, Jack, N.Y.C., 13
Bertha Apartments, N.Y.C., 280
Bertish, 33
Bertsche, Barney, 218
Berzac's Circus, Cliff, 167-168
Bestor, Don, 72
Bevan & Flint, 230
Bey, Fakir Raaon, 109
Beyer, Ben, & Brother, 22, 30
Bibs & Bibs, 319
Bickle & Watson, 68, 323
Bicknell, 212
Bicycle acts, 30-31
Bicycle-race winners, 130
Big acts, 323-324
Big Bertha's Casino, Spokane, 14
Big City Four, 76, 135
Big Four, 321
Big Jim (bear), 164
"Big Moments from Great Plays/' 50
INDEX
517
Bigelow, Joe, 210
Biglow, Campbell & Hayden, 80
Bignon's, Joe, Phoenix, 1 5
Bijou Theatre, Boston, 341, 342
Bijou Theatre, Philadelphia, 339
Bijou Theatre, Quincy, 111., 241
Bill, Leo, 115
"Bill Sykes," 98
Billiard champions, 131
Billings, Josh, 211
"Billy's Tombstones," 51-52, 146
Binford, Beulah, 387
Bingham, Amelia, 50, 245, 251, 501
Bingham, Kitty, 9 3
Bingham, Russell, 90
Binns, Jack, 217
Binns, Binns & Binns, 68
Binyon, Claude, 2x0
Birchman, Arthur, 212
Bird acts, 163
Bisceaux, 90
Bismarck Hotel, Chicago, 281
Bison City Quartette, 75
Bisphan, Herman, 78
Bissett & "Hello George" Scott, 43
Bixley & Lerner, 86, 90
Black Hussars, 67
Blackface acts, 139-142, 319-320; sam-
ple script, 461-464
"Blackmail," 51
Blackstone, 107
Blake, Eubie, 205
Blanche, La Belle, 99, 100
Bland, Jim, 203
Bledsoc, Jules, 323
"Blind Youth," 51
Block, Richard, 500
Block & Sully, 229
Blockson & Burns, 321
"Blonde Typewriters," 232
Blonclell, Ed, and daughter Joan, 148
Bloom, Max, 235
Bloomberg, Big Bill, 161
Blue, Ben, 47
Blue Hour, N.Y.C., 503
Blue material, 286-292
Blurnenthal, George, 385
Boardinghouses, 276-286
Boasberg, Al, 49, 231
Bobs, The Two, 137
Boganny's Lunatic Bakers, 29
Bohee Bros., 322
Bohemians Club, 300
Boisettes, The, 250
Bolden, Henry, 28
Bolger, Ray, 47, 92, 232
Bonfils and Tammen, 210
Bonner, Cleveland, 89
Bonomo, Joe, 33
Bonstelle, Jessie, 368
Bootblack Comedy Four, 76
Booth, Edwin, 294
Boothe, Clare, 209
Borani Brothers, 322
Bordoni, Irene, 54, 327
Boreo, Emil, 489
Borie, Albert, 404
Bostock's Riding School, 160
Boston Fadettes, 67, 344
Boston Museum, 337
Boston Music Hall, 372
Boston Red Sox .Quartette, 125
Boston Store, Chicago, 246
Boswell Sisters, 150
Bosworth, Hobart, 50
Bothner, George, 128
Botrell, May, 203
Bottle Koenig's, San Francisco, 1 5
Bottle Meyer's, San Francisco, 15
"Bouffe Variety," 233
Boumustin, Theodore, 98
Bowen & Cody, 212
Bowers, Fred V., 232
Bowery Amphitheatre, N.Y.C^ 333
Bowes, Major, 255
Bowhan, Sibylla, 99-100
Bowman, Patricia, 494
Bowman Bros., 90, 153
Boyle, Johnny, 47, 307
Boyle & Brazil, 43
Bracks, Seven, 29
Bracy, Sidney, 247
Bradley, Hugh, 125
Bradley, Jimmy, 319
Bradley & Ardine, 45
Bradna, Ella, 160
INDEX
Brady, Joe, & Mahoney, 83
Braiidenberg's Museum, Philadelphia,
16, 246
Brandt, Rem, 212
Branner, Martin, 211
Brattz, Selma, 24
Bray, Charles E., 360
Breed, Doc, 486
Breen, Harry, 192-193, 231, 396
Breen, Nellie, 46
Breen Family, 147
Brenck's Bronze Horse, 37
Brendel & Burt, 230, 323
Brennan, Jay, 83, 85, 89, 90; & Rogers,
90
Brenner, Dorothy, 60
Briant, Walter and Paul, 29
Brice, Elizabeth, 233
Brice, Fanny, 46, 54, 57, 95, 102, 253,
484
Bride, Jack & Charlie, 501
"Bride Shop, The," 232
Briggs, Jimmy, 124
Bright, Harry, 92
Brighton, N.Y.C., 13
Brill, Willis, 2 10
Brindamour, 112
Briscoe, Olive, 59
British acts, 133-135
Britt, Jimmy, 122
Britton, Frank & Milt, 73
Britton, Jack, 123
Brittcns, The, 43
Broadway Music Hall, N.Y.C.,, 333-
J34
Brockbank, Harrison, 323
Brode, William, 61, 62
Broderick, Helen, 229
Eronson, Aleen, 2 29
Bronx Opera House, 357
Bronx Theatre, 240
Brooklyn Music Hall (Gotham), 355
Brooks, Harry, 234
Brooks, Shelton, 202
Broones, Martin, 328
Brother acts, 1 52-1 54
Brother and sister acts, 1 54
Broun, Hey wood, 5, 195, 221, 494
518
Brower, Walter, 183
Brown, Ada, 487
Brown, Allie, 204
Brown, Bothwell, 89
Brown, Chris, 412
Brown, George N., 132
Brown, Harry, 205, 212
Brown, Hiram, 482
Brown, Joe E., 21; & Marion Sunshine,
230
Brown, Martin, and Rozicka Dolly, 45
Brown, Mildred, 328
Brown, Porter Emerson, 210
Brown, Russ, 84, 211; & Aileen Cook,
230
Brown, Walter, 2 3
Brown Bros., Six, 67, 153
Brown & Whittaker, 230
Browning, Bessie, 60
Browning, Frank, 125, 126
Browning, Joe, 187, 231
Browning, Peaches, 221, 253
Brown's Chop House, NT.Y.C., 295
Brox Sisters, Three, 79
Brulatour, Jules, 363
Brunswick Records, 251
Brutal Bros., 87
Bucholtz, Gus, 281
Buck, Gene, 309
Buck & Bubbles, 85, 205
Buckley, G. Swayne, 97
Buckley, Laura, 98
Buckley & Dwycr, 32 1
Buckley's Curriculum, Professor, 160
Budds, Aerial, 31, 154
Buhler, Joseph, 306
Bulger, Bozeman, 49, 125, 209
Bulger, Harry, 89
Bunny, John, 252
Bunth & Rudd, 108, 320
Burgess, Colonel, 319
Burke, Edwin, 49
Burke, Jack, 123
Burke, Johnny, 184-185; & Mae, 230
Burker Major, 322
Burke, Tom, 79
Burke & Durkin, 230
Burkhart, Lillian, 50, 404
INDEX
Burlesque Club, 299-300
Burns, George, 45; and Grade Allen,
228, 229, 231
Burns & Fabrito, 86
Burns & Fulton, 45, 240
Bums & Kissen, 85, 87
Burt, Benjamin Hapgood, 270
Burt, Sadie, 59, 148
Bush, Frank, 199, 319
Bush Bros., 28-29, X53
Buskers, 10-11
Butler, Amy, 59
Butler and Sweetie May (Butterbean
and Susie), 205
Butt, Sir Alfred, 251
Butterfield Circuit, W. S., 235, 349
Butting Ram, 167
Buzzell & Parker, 230
Byers & Herman, 36
Byfields, 281
Byrne Bros., Six, 153
Byrnes, Andy, 63, 328
Byrnes, John F., & Miss Helene, 226
Byrnes Bros., 324
Byron, Arthur, 148
Byron, Frank, 284
Cabana, Wilfred, 33
Cadicux, 30
Cadillac Hotel, N.Y.C, 280
Caesar, Arthur, 260-261, 302, 502
Cahill, Marie, 59, 484
Caiccdo, Juan, 30
Cain, George, 322
Caits Bros., 43, 154
Cakewalk, 42
Callahan, Emraett, 300
Callahan, Joseph, 103
CalUihan Bros., 153
Calloway, Cab, 206
Calotta, 31
Calvd, Emma, 78
Cameron, Grace, 60, 78
Cameron Sisters, 150
519
Camilla's Pigeons, 163
Carnille Trio, 32
Camp Street Theatre, Dallas, 1 5
Campanini, Cleofonte, 78
Campanini, Eva Tetrazzini, 151
Campbell, Misses, 1 50
Campbell, Al, 234
Campbell, Craig, 78
Canard, 224
Canary Cottage, 86
Cancellation clause, 407-408
Canfield, Elsie, 229
Canova, Judy, 1 54
Cansinos, The, 154
Cantor, Eddie, 26, 84, 86, 102, 141,
197, 231, 232, 240, 253-255, 492,
495; and Al Lee, 83
Canzoneri, Tony, 122
Capitaine, Alcide, 31, 419
Capitol Theatre, N.Y.C., 248, 252
Capolican, Chief, 78
Capp, Al, 211
Card magicians, 108
Cardello, Harry, 160
Cardini, 106, 108-109
Carie, Mile., 64
Carle, Richard, 47, 198, 271-272, 307-
308
Carlson, Violet, 46, 59
"Carlton Nights," 232
Carmen, Florence, 387-388
Carmen Troupe, 30
Carmcncita, 40, 393-394
Cairnenelli & Lucille, "Music and Fua
in a Butcher Shop/' 64
Camera, Primo, 123
Carol, Sue, 496
Caroll & Nealey, 321
Caron & Herbert, 29, 322
Carpcntier, Georges, 123
Carr, Alexander, 52, 101, 177
Cart, Buddy, 32
Carr, Eddie, 26-27, 161, 298
Carr, Jimmy, 72
Carr, Tommy, 413
Garrillo, Leo, 198, 211
Carrol, Fred, 33
Carroll, Adam, 327, 328
IHDEX
Carroll, Harry, 234, 328
Carroll, Jack, 327
Carroll, Lew, 322
CarroU Theatre, N.Y.C., 382
Camitbers, E. F., 127
Carsoo, James, 84, 232
Carson, Kit, 35
Carson, Sara, 230
Carson & Willard, 86
Carstans & Brosins, 217
Carter, 107
Carter, Jack, 501
Carter, Mrs. Leslie, 51
Cartmell, William, 231
Cartoonists, 211, 212-213; sample dia-
logue, 479
Cams, Emma, 371
Caruso, Enrico, 251, 284, 307
Case, Charlie, 174-175, 205
Case, Frank, 286
"Case of Arson," 51
Casey, Dan, 241
Casey, Pat, 241
Casey & Reynolds, 320
Cashel Byron7 s Profession, 118
Casino, Central Park, N.Y.C., 503
Casino de Paree, N.Y.C., 272
Casting acts, 31
Castile, George, 348
Castle, Irene and Vernon, 44-45, 255,
491
Gates, Four Musical, 70
Catholic Diocese of Boston, 339, 343
Catlett, Walter, 269, 270
Cavalieri, Lin a, 251
CavanaugFs, Philadelphia, 281
Celeve, El, 69
Censoring of acts, 286-292
Cervo, 69
Chadwick, Cyril, 487
Chad wick, Ida May, 43, 148
Chadwick Trio, 148
Chagnon, 99
Chamberlains, The, 36
Chamberlain's "My Lady Co./' 58
Chandler, Anna, 59, 327
Channel swimmers, 131
"Chanticler," 233
520
Chaplin, Charlie, 38, 102, 134, 256,
280
Chaplin, Syd, 92
Chapman, Captain, 41
Charioteers, 206
Charlene & Charlene, 24
Charles, Herbert, 90
Charley's Aunt, 9 2
Chariot's Revue, 253
C-H-A-R-M-I-O-N, 31
Chase, Charlie, 218
Chase, Lamme, 204
Chase, P. B., 341
Chase Theatre, Washington, 202
Chassino, 112
Cheese Club, 302-303
Cherry Sisters, 272-275
Chesleigh Sisters, 150
Chesterfield, Henry, 315
Chestnut Street Theatre, Philadel-
phia, 339-340
Chevalier, Albert, 133, 134, 197, 251
Chevalier, Maurice, 102, 253, 254
Chicago Joe, 14
Chicago Opera House, 348
Chicago World's Fair of 1893, 40
"Chicken Chow Mein," 233
Chicot. See Epes W. Sargent
ChingLeeFoo, 109
Chinko, 24
Chisolm, Robert, 78
Choos, George, 232, 233
Christian Science Monitor, 373
Christy, Howard Chandler, 306
Christy & Willis, 26
Churchill's Restaurant, 312
Czcolini, 78
Cincinnati, Max, 26
Cinquevalli, 21, 23, 133
Circle Theatre, N.Y.C., 357
City Hall Square Hotel, Chicago, 281
City Theatre, N.Y.C., 411
Claire, Ina, 99, 252
Claircmont7s Circus Monkeys, Jean,
x63
Clare, Johnson, 114
Claridge Hotel, N.Y.C., 280
Clark, Bert, & Hamilton, 134
INDEX
521
Clark, Bill, 486
Clark, Professor Bill, 120
Clark, Bobby, 84, 300; and Paul Mc-
Cullough, 22, 83, 136-137, 301-302
Clark, Eddie, 231, 233
Clark, Ethelyn, 80
Clark, Gladys, & Henry Bergman, 230,
232,234
Clark, Harry, 57
Clark, Mary & Ann, 149
Clark, Nellie, 23
Clark, Sylvia, 59
Clark & Hamilton, 230
Clark & Verdi, 82, 239, 501
Claudius & Scarlet, 64
Clay, Fanny, 204
Clay modeling acts, 212
Clayton, Bessie, 46, 493
Clayton, Lou, 43; Jackson & Durante,
80, 380, 490
Clef Club, 298
Clement, F. A., 212
Clement, W. H.7 114
"Cleopatra Up to Now," 97
Cleveland, Claude & Marion, 229
Cleveland, W., 241
Cliff, Laddie, 102, 134, 197
Clifford, Ann, 94
Cifford, Billy "Single," 198
Clifford, Edith, 59
Clifford, Kathleen, 94
Clifford & Marion, 230
Clifton, Herbert, 90
Climax, The, 209
Cline, Lou, 2x0
Cline, Maggie, 53,320,383
Clinton, Fred, 328
Clinton, May, 3;
Clinton & Beatrice, 36
Clintons, The, 212
Clipper Quartette, 77
Clive, Henry, 109
Clownland, 67
Club swinging, 22-23
Clubs, 292-317
Coakley & McBride, 142
Coates, Joe, 107
Cobb, Irving, 210
Cobb, Ty, 118, 127
Coca, Imogene, 231
Cocharane, Walter, 131
Cochi, Gena, 280
Cochrane, Mickey, 126, 328
Codee, Ann, 22, 136, 151, 229
Cody, Buffalo Bill, 251
Cohan, George M., 49, 51, 57, 100-
101, 130, 251, 256, 258, 261, 270,
296> V5> 377*4*5
Cohan, George M., Jr., 100
Cohans, Four, 146, 281, 348; Jerry,
88, 338
Cohen, Morris, 375
Cohen, Sydney £.,497
Cohn, Leo, 502
Coin magicians, 108-109
Colby & May, 115
Cole, Bob, 202
Cole, Judson, 108
Cole, Lieut. Walter, 114
Cole & Johnson, 83, 136, 203, 206
Cole & Snycler, 86
Coleman, John, 75, 165
Coleman, Nellie, 94
Colcman's Cats, 167
College Widow, The, 118
Collier, William, 90, 261, 268
Collins, Janet, 205
Collins, Lottie, 1 34
Collins, Milt, 192
Collins, Sim, 263; & Hart, 29, 136,
321
Collins & Peterson, 87
Colonial Septette, Ye, 67
Colonial Theatre, Boston, 339^ 343
Colonial Theatre, Chicago, 246
Colonial Theatre, N.Y.C., 58, 357-
358
Columbia Records, 251, 252
Columbia Theatre. See 12 5th Street
Theatre
Columbians, Five, 147
Columnists in vaudeville, 213
"Come On, Red!" 51
Comedy Club, Chicago, 299
INDEX
Comedy Club, Hollywood, 303
Comedy sketch, sample script, 465-
469
Comique Theatre, N.Y.C., 37
Comique Theatre, San Francisco, 15,
250
"Common Manr The/' 51
Comstock, Laura7 56
"Comstock Mystery, The," 97
Conchas, Jenny, 166
Conchas, Paul, 25
Condon, Jafsie, 222
Condos Bros., 44
Congress Hotel, Chicago, 281
Conkey, Clever, 25
Conlin, Jimmy, 74, 231, 298
Conlin & Glass, 230
Conlin, Stede & Carr, 26
Conn, Harry, 231
Connefax, Bob, 131
Connelly, Jack, 62, 223
Connelly, Marc, 209
Conners, Chuck, 323
Conners, Ray, 497
Conners7 Museum, Allegheny, Pa., 16
Connoly Sisters, 76
Conrad, Con, 328
Conrad, Eddie & Bertie, 230
Conrad, Ethel, 387
Conrad, Gene, 49, 231
Conrad's Pigeons, 163
Conroy & LeMaire, 83, 140-141
Considine, Bob, 213
Considiner John, 293, 411-412; see
also Timothy D. Sullivan and John
Considine
Considine, John W., Jr., 410
Consul the Great (chimp), 164
Continental Hotel, N.Y.C., 284
Continental Hotels, San Francisco
and Los Angeles, 282
Contino & Lawrence, 223
Continuous vaudeville performances,
322, 338, 365, 366
Contortionists, 36-37
Convey, John, 496
Conway, Jack, 128, 210
522
Coogan, Jackie, 145
Coogan & Bancroft, 32
Cook, Charles Emerson, 210, 295,
296
Cook, DeWitt, 23, 319
Cook, Doc, 486
Cook, Dr. F. A., 217, 393
Cook, Joe, 22, 197; & Bro., 153
Cook, Olga, 79
Cook, Pauline, 35, 280
Cook, Phil, & Sylvia, 43
Cook, Will Marion, 202
Cook & Madison, 35
Cook & Stevens, 205
Cook Sisters, Four, 76
Cook's, Philadelphia, 281
Cook's Place, N.Y.C., 278
Coombs, 126
Cooper, Fitch, 64
Cooper, Harry and Irving, 76
Cooper, Jackie, 145
Cooper, John W., 114-115, 205
Cooper & Ricordo, 229
Cooper & Robinson, 44, 204
Coots, J. Fred, 126, 328
Copperhead, The, 308
Coram, 113
Corbett, Frank, 75
Corbett, James J., 84, 118, 119-120,
138, 177, 308
Corbett, Shepherd & Donovan, 80
Cormack, Bartlett, 209, 210
Corrigan & Vivian, 3 5
Corson, Mrs. Mile Gade, 131, 221
Cort, John, 14, 235, 293
Cortez & Peggy, 45
Corway, Ferry, 64
Coseli's Midget Wonders, Rosina,
165
Cota, El, 69
Cotton, Idaleen, 97
Cotton & Bedue, 321
Coue*, Dr., 220
Coulon, Johnny, 122
''Court by Girls," 2 36
Courtney, Maude, 137
Courtney Sisters, 1 50
INDEX
523
Cox7 Earl, 247
Cox7 Hazel, 151
Cox, Ray, 59, 151
Cox-Rinock Circuit, 349
Coyne, Joe, 136
Crable, George, 125, 126
Cragg Family, 419
Craig, Richard, Sr., 323
Craig, Richie, Jr., 198
Cramer, Phoebe, 279
Crane, 109
Crane, Flossie, 392
Crane Bros., 86, 223
Cravat, Nick, & Burt Lancaster, 21
Crawford, Broderick, 148
Crawford, Clifton, 102, 133, 186-187,
197,317-318 ^
Crawford, Winnie, 94
Crawford & Broderick, 148, 229
Crazy Quilt, 235-236
Crea tore's Band, 41, 70, 248
Cremonde, San Francisco, 15
Crescent Theatre, Brooklyn, 357
Cressy, Will, 49, 294; & Dayne, 49, 52
"Criminal, The/' 97
Crisp Sisters, 350, 151
Criterion Theatre, N.Y.C., 382
Criterions, 72
Critics, newspaper, 207-210
Cromwell, Billy (The Cromwells),
23-24
Cronin, Morris, 26
Crosby, Bing, 255
Cross, Leach, 122
Cross, Wellington, 126
Cross & Dunn, 80
Grouse, Russel, 209
"Cruel Coppinger/' 97
Gruickshank, 135
Cummings, Roy, & Helen Gladying,
94
Cunningham, George, 87
Gurran, James J,, 218
Curtis, Sam, 76, 319
Cumm Sisters, 151
Cuttys, Six Musical, 67, 147
Cycling Brunettes, 31
m
D.D.H.? (David D. Hall), 183-184
Dabb, Charlie, 63, 486
Dailey, Peter, 251
Dailey, Robert, 211
Dainty Marie, 31, 396
"Daisyland," 232
Dale, Alan, 209, 210
Dale, Charlie. See Smith & Dale
Dale & Boyle, 90
Dal ton, Dorothy, 280
Daly, Arnold, 209
Day, Joe, 328
Daly, Vinie, 78
Dancing acts, 38-47, 319-323; sample
dialogue, 479
Dandy, Jess, 177
Daniels, Billy, 256
Dante, 107
D'Arc's Marionettes, 117
Darling, Eddie V., 49, 484, 485-486
Darrell, Emily, 60, 229
Darrow, Mr. and Mrs., 111
"Dates," 223
Davenport, Pearl, 43
Davenports, The, 160
Davies, Acton, 209
Davis, Professor, 114, 321
Davis, Belle, & Picks, 137
Davis, Benny, 232, 233
Davis, Ethel, 60
Davis, George C., 266
Davis, Gussie, 202
Davis, Harry, 368, 376
Davis, Joan, 231
Davis, Nelson, 56
Davis, Rcinc, 59
Davis & Darnell, 230
Davis & Keogh, 386
Davls's Museum, Pittsburgh, 1 6
Day, Canta, and Her White Picks, 56
Day, Garita, 206
Dasde, Mile., 46
Deagon, Gracic, 229
Dean, Cliff, 126
INDEX
Dean, Dizzy, 127
De Bar, Mme. Ann Diss, 217
De Biere7 107
De Bussey, Miss, 116
De Costa, Harry, 327, 328
Deda Veils, 35
De Forests, The, 45
De Gray, Mildred Howard, 323
De Haven, Carter, 148
Delahanty & Hengler, 321
Delancey Street Theatre, 377-378
Delaney, Jimmy, 122
Delano, Jap & Fanny, 227, 320
Delf, Harry, 198
De Lion, Clement, 109
Delmar, Harry, & Jeannet Hackett,
232
Delmar, Jules, 502
De Long Sisters, 1 50
Del' Oro, Luigi, 66
De Lusson, Sell, 78
De Marco, Tony & Renee, 45,255
Demarest, William, & Estelle Colette,
487
De Mart Grace, 59
Demonic & Bell, 36
Dempsey, Jack, 118, 121, 126, 150,
252,254,256,407
Denny Jack, 328,496
De Ouzo, Thelma, 224
Derrick, Fred, 160
De Ruyrer, Jack, 497
Desmond & Bailey, 206
Des Vail, Olympia, 163
De Veau, Hubert, 213
De Voie, Bessie, 393
Devoy, Emmett, 52
Dewey Theatre, N.Y.C., 121, 240,
241
De Winters, Grace, 1 16
De Wolfe Sisters, 150
Deyo, Miss, 41
Diamond, Charlie, 84
Diamonds, Four, 147
Dick (dog), 166
"Dick Turpin," 97
Dickerson & Dcagon, 229
524
Dickinson, Ruhe, 178
Dickson, Charles, 50, 404
Diero, 69
Dietz, Howard, 210
Dika, Juliet, 78
Dilla & Templeton, 36
Dillingham, Charles, 210, 363
Dillon, Harry & John, 322
Dillon, Tom, 125, 126
Dillon, William, 198
Dillon & King, 235
Dinehart, Allan, 51
Dingle, Tom, 46
Dixie, Henry E., 109, 197, 269, 323
Dixieland Jazz Band, 72
Dixon, George, 64, 223
Dixon, Harland, 46, 102, 307
Dobson, Frank, & the Sirens, 233
Dockstader, Lew, 141, 197
Dodattis, Les, 212
Dodson, Divine, 90
Dody & Lewis, 116
Dog acts, 160-162; sample dialogue,
478
Dolan, Jim, 173, 311; & Lenhar, 52
Dolce Sisters, Three, 79, 150
Dolinoff,M. C.,496
Dollar Troupe, 21
Dolly Sisters, 149-150, 252, 255, 377;
Rozicka, 45
Domino Rouge, Le, 46
Dominoes Club, 303
Don, Emma, 94
Don, the Talking Dog, 165, 393
Don Carlos Marionettes, 117
Donahue, Jack, 46, 179, 198, 307,
489; & Stewart, 95, 228, 229
Doner, Kitty, 95; Ted & Rose, 154
Donlin, Mike, 118-119; & Mabel Hitcr
124-125; & Tom Lewis, a 16
Donnelly, Leo, 211
Doob, Oscar, 502
Doom, Charles, 125
Dooky, Bill, 125, 234; & Gordon, 85,
147,153
Dooley, J. Francis, 141; & Corinne
Sales, 229
INDEX
Dooley, Johnny, 234
Dooley, Ray, 60, 147; & Her Metro-
politan Minstrels, 233
Dorando, 130
Dotson, 43
Double Crosses club, 301
Dougherty, Hugh, 142, 187, 319
Dougherty, James, 79
Doutrick, Charles, 243
Dova, Ben, 36
Dowling, Eddie, 198, 489
Downs, Nelson, 109
Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan, 49
Doyle, Buddy, 101, 102
Doyle, Frank Q., 243
Doyle, Patsy, 47
Doyle & Dixon, 46, 136
Dramatic Mirror, 210
Dreams, Lydia, 89, 115
Dresser, Louise, 54; & Her Picks, 56
Dressier, Marie, 59, 377, 484
Drew, John, 308
Drew, Sidney and Gladys Rankin, 50,
51,146,404
"Drifted Apart/' 51
Driscoll, Jack, 244
Drury Lane, Theatre, N.Y.C., 383
Du Boises, The, 107
Ducasse, Louis, & George Jeannoit,
124,215
Dudley, Bide, 209, 210
DuFau, Jenny, 78
Duffin-Redcay Troupe, 31
Duffy, Jimmy, 73
Duffy & Sweeney, 85, 200, 266-267,
316
Du For Bros., Three, 43, 153, 484
Dufranne, George, 79
Dugan, David, 78
Dugan, Tommy, 52, 23 1, 259-260,
298
Dumb acts, 20-38
Dunbars, Casting, 31
Dunbar's Maryland Singers, Ralph,
205
Duncan, A. O., 113
Duncan Sisters, 102, 136, 149;
Rosetta, 487
525
Duncan's Scotch Collies, Professor,
161
Dundee, Johnny, 121
Dunfe, Josephine, 78
Dunham, Ben, 420
Dunham, Edwards & Farrell, 80
Dunn, Bob, 211
Dunn, John P., 123
Dunn, Master, 320
Dunn, Thomas Potter, 198
Dunninger, no
Duplex Apartments, N.Y.C., 281
Dupont, Paul, 2 5
Duprez, Fred, 136
Durant, Jack, 22
Durante, Jimmy, 102, 254, 285; Clay-
ton, Jackson, &, 43, 80, 380, 490
Durbyelle, Lola and Fay, 112
Duryea, Etta, 220
Dutch acts, 319; double, sample
script, 445-448
Duttons, The, 160
Du Vries, Henri, 51, 97
Du Vries, Sam, 106
Dwyer, Dave, 327
Eagan, Thomas, 79
Eagan's Band, John S., 70
Eagles, Jeanne, 99
Eagles, fraternal order, 293
Earl Trio, Burt, 64
Early, Dora "Boots," 328
East, George, 89
East & Dumkc, the Sisters of the
Skillet, 255
Easterbrooks, The, 66
Ebbets Field, Brooklyn, 247
Ebbs, William, 116
Ebsen, Vilma & Buddy, 45-46, 154
Eccentric dancers, 46-47
Eckhoff & Gordon, 68
Eckstein, Billy, 256
Eddy Family, 30
Eden Mus6e, N.Y.C., 16, 237, 397
INDEX
Ederle, Gertrude, 131, 221
Edirette, William, 37
Edison, Thomas, 318, 351
Edison Hotel Annex, N.Y.C., 296,
316
Edmund's Flats, N.Y.C., 278
Edwards, Gus, 232,496
Edwards, Leo, 327
Edwards, Maude, 116
Edwards, Tom, 114
Ehric's, Mrs., N.Y.C, 280
Eighty-sixth Street Theatre, N.Y.C.,
369
Eisenhower, Dwight, 307
Elder, Ruth, 221, 253
Eldrid, Gordon, 51
Eldridge, Lieut. R., 212
Eldridge the Great, 212
Elephant acts, 158-160
Elinore Sisters, 149
Elite Theatre, San Francisco, 226
Elkes & McFarland, 130
Elkins, Eddie, 72
Elks, Benevolent Protective Order of,
19
Ellington, Duke, 205
Elliot, Maxine and Gertie, 151
Elliott, Doc, 414
Elliott, Louise, 93,
Ellis, Charles E., 299
Ellis, Melville, 327
Elly, 24
Elman, Mischa, 383
El Rey Sisters, 32, 151
Eltine, Julian, 41, 91-92
Eltinge Theatre, 91
Elverton, 25
Elwell, Arthur, 244
Emerlin, Ernst, 502
Emerson, Billy, 419
Emerson, Ida, 80
Emerson & Baldwin, 25
Emmett, Mrs. Grade, 52
Emmett, Joe, 500
Emmy, Karl, & His Pets, 168
Emperor Jones, 204
Empire City Quartette, 76
Empire Comedy Four, 76
526
Empire Hotel, N.Y.C., 294
"End of the World, The" (or "To-
bitsky Says"), 52
Engel's Hall, Chicago, 360
England, American acts in, 135-138;
vaudeville in, 132-133, 137
English acts, 133-135; sample dia-
logue, 480-481
Enoch, 'The Man Fish," 34
Entertainers, single man, 195-200
Epps & Loretta, 205
Epstein, Montgomery, 149
Epstein's Museum, Chicago, 16
Equestrian acts, 160
Equity, 316
Erber, Joe, 108
Ernie, Ed, and Emil Honegger, 45
Errol, 98
Errol, Bert, 90
Enroll, Leon, 47, 51, 309
Escape artists, 112-113
"Eternal Waltz," 233, 487
E toilers Society Horses, Mme., 160
Etting, Ruth, 54
Eureka Hall, San Francisco, 1 5
Europe's Band, Lieut. Jimmy, 71
Evans, Bruce, 308
Evans, Eddie & Josie, 230
Evans, Frank, 251
Evans, George "Honey Boy," 88, 141,
197
Evans and Hoey, 12
Evans Bros., Teddy and Blackie, 153,
240
Everhart, 33
Experience, 308
Exposition Four, 67, 396
F
Fadiman, Clifton, 213
Fagan, Barney, 47
Fagg & White, 90
Fahl, Leo, 487
"Fair Co-Eds, The," 236
Fair Store, Chicago, 349
INDEX
527
Fairbanks Twins, 150
Fairchild, Roy, 49
Fairfax, Bernard, 326
Falk, Eleanor, 233
Fallon, Jim, 84
Family acts, 146-148
"Family Affairs/* 319
Family life in vaudeville, 143-146
Fanchon & Marco, 45
Farra, Martha, 33
Farrel & Bartlett, 95
Farrell, John, 129
Farrell & Taylor, 68
Farrington, Frank, 247
Fatima, 40
Faulkner, R. C.7 213
Faust, Lotta, 42
Fay, Anna Eva, no
Fay, Ed, 414
Fay, Frank, 183, 198, 231, 327, 489,
492,496
Fay, JohnT., no
Feinberg, Abe, 412
Fejer, Joe, & His Hungarian Orches-
tra, 72
Feleky, Charles, 360
Felix, 213
Felix, Seymour, 100
Felix & Claire, 230
Felovis, 26, 497
Female impersonators, 87-93, 320;
sample business, 478
Female International Wrestling
Troupe, 129
Fcnberg, George M., 327
Fennel, Ed, & Lena Tyson, 95
Fenton, Marie, 328
Ferber, Edna, 209
Ferguson, Adele, & Edna Northlane,
95
Ferguson, Barney, 47
Ferguson, Dave, 52, 198
Ferrer, Jose, 92, 308
Ferrero's Dog Musicians, M. S., 161
Ferry, "The Frog Man/' 37
Fiddler & Shelton, 205
Field Bros,, 43, 153
Fielding, John & Maggie, 50, 227,
320
Fields, Al, 86
Fields, Benny, 324
Fields, Fanny, 137
Fields, Gracie, 59, 133, 134
Fields, Lew, 377, 382
Fields, Sally, 60
Fields, W. C., 21, 23, 138
Fields & Hanson, 66
Fields Theatre, N.Y.C., 382
Fifth Avenue Theatre, N.Y.C., 367
Fifty-Fifty Club, 303
Fink, Harry, & Sister, 154
Finn & Heiman Circuit, 349
Finney, Maude & Gladys, 34, 151
Finn's, Pat, N.Y.C., 308
Fisher (tab producer), 235
Fisher, Bud, 211
Fisher, Grace, 79
Fisher, Ham, 211
Fisher, Irving, 57, 79
Fitch, Clyde, 295-296
Fitzgerald, Eddie, 327
Fitzgerald, Ella, 206
Fitzgerald, H. V., 98
Fitzgerald, Lillian, 59
Fitzgibbons, Bert, 102, 135, 199, 259,
269, 492; & Lew, 153
Fitzsimmons, Bob, 118, 120-121
Fitzu, Anna, 78
Five Golden Graces, 37
Flagg, fames Montgomery, 306, 309
Flaherty, John $,, 295
Flanagan, 129; & Edwards, 86
Flash, Serge, 26
Flash acts, 234
Fleck, Fred, 13
Fleisher's Rmg Record, Nate, 121
Fletcher, Charles Leonard, 129
Fletcher, Elbie, 127
Fletcher, Tom, 204-205
"Flinder's Flats," 51
Flippen, Jay C., 142
Floenzi, 108
Flood Sisters, 152
Flowers, Madame, The Bronze Melba,
79
INDEX
Flynn, Joe, 322, 388
Fogarty, Frank, 198, 396
Fogarty, John, 79
Foley Bros., 43
Folies Bergere, N.Y.C., 503
Folsom, Bobby, 54, 59
Fonda, Maybell, 24
Fong, Jue, 78-79
Ford, "Senator" Ed, 187
Ford, Hugh, 368, 405
Ford, Mabel & Dora, 150
Fords, Four, 43, 138
Foreman, Elliott, 304
Foreman, Lou, 63, 486
Forrest, Sam, 306
Forrest Hotel, N.Y.C., 300
Forty-fourth Street Theatre, N.Y.C.,
396
Fougere, Eugene, 99
Four Buttercups, 77
Four Emperors of Music, 67
Four Entertainers, 77
"Four Husbands, The," 236
Four Kings, Original, 320
"Four Leaf Clover, A," 98
Four Messenger Boys, 77
Fourteenth Street Theatre, N.Y.C.,
240
Fowler, Addison, & Florence Tamara,
45> 4^4
Fowler, Gene, 5, 158-159, 210
Fowler, Gus, 109
Fox, Al, 86
Fox, Delia, 94
Fox, Harry, 198, 295, 327; & Bea-
trice Curtis, 230
Fox, Imro, 108, 320
Fox, Will H., 13,73, 321
Fox, William, 237, 239-240, 245,
248, 399, 410-411
Fox & Fox, 216
Fox & Ward, 83, 85, 140
Fox Medals, 43
Foy, Charlie, 101
Foy, Eddie, Jr., 47, 101
Foy, Eddie, Sr., 47, 101, 198; and
Seven Little Foys 147
Foyer, Eddie, 191
528
Fradkin, Fred, 69
Freres Nad, Les, 1 14
Francelias, The, 33
Frances, Lady, 106
Francis, 90
Francis, Carl, 47
Francis, Emma, 234; and Her Arabs,
43
Francisco, Tony, 131
Franklin, Benny, 35
Franklin, Irene, 54, 56, 62, 101, 137
Franklin, Sidney (bullfighter), 219
Franklin, Sidney (pianist), 328
Frawley, Bill, & Edna Louise, 230
Frazer's, Dad, Philadelphia, 281
Freak acts, 214-222, 387-393
Fredricks, The Great, 107
Free-and-easies. See Honky-tonks
Freed, Arthur, 328
Freed, Carl, 497
Freed, Martin, 328
Freeman, Charlie, 323, 485
Freeman & Dunham, 80
Fregoleska, Mile., 79
Fregoli, Leopold and Mme., 97, 383
French, Henri, 109
French Twins, 319
Frescott, Norman, no
Frevoli, 111
Frey Trio, 37
Frey Twins, 1 54
Friars Club, 295-297
Frick, Ford, 127
Frieberg, Joe, 279
Friedland, Ben, 57
Friedlander, Anatole, 233
Friedlander, William, 232, 235
Friend, Cliff, 328
Friend, Ted, 213
Friend & Downing, 83, 85, 136
Friganza, Trixie, 54
Friscarry, 24
Frisch, Frankie, 127
Frisco, Joe, 46, 102, 197, 383, 489
Friscoe (Lou Chiha), 69
Froehlic, 212
Froelich, Mile., 41
Frogs Club, 298
INDEX
529
Frohman, Charles, 365
Frohman, Dan, 410
Frolics, Ziegfeld, 141
Frosini, 69
Fuji-Ko, 219
Fulgora, Robert, 97
Fuller, Loie, 40, 134
Furtell's Jungle Lions, 157
Fyfe, Will, 133, 134, 197
Fynes, }. Austin, 48, 50, 209, 347,
367-369; biography of, 403-406
Gabriel, Gilbert, 210
Gaby, Bessie, 116
Gaby, Frank, 116
Gaffney Girls, Five, 219
Gagan's, Owney, N.Y.C., 13
Gallagher, Ed, & Barrett, 84; &
Shean, 83, 84, 102
Gallagher, Skeets, & Irene Martin,
230
Gallagher & Griffin, 320
Gallando, 212
Galley, Celia, 94
Gallini, Stanley, 112
Galvin, Johnny, 175, 414; & Ella, 236
Galvin, Wallace, 108
Gamut Club, 299
Gane's Manhattan Theatre, 241
Gans, Joe, 122
Gans-Nelson fight, 123
Garden, Mary, 202, 392
Garden Theatre, Buffalo, 413-414
Gardiner, Mrs., 299
Gardner, Grant, 68, 136
Gardner, Happy Jack, 135
Gardner, Hy, 213
Gardner & Stoddard, 229
Garland, Judy, 256
Garland, Robert, 49
Garnella Brothers, 322
Garaellas, The, 250
Garr, Eddie, 103, 496
Garret, Paul, 32
Garrison, 131
Gaskill, Clarence, 327, 328
Gasparrio, 78
Gassman, Josephine, 56
Gaston, Billy, & Ethel Green, 230
Gaudschmidts, The, 153, 490
Gautier's Bricklayers, 166
Gaxton, Billy, 150, 198, 310, 492,
495; & Ann Laughlin, 230
Gaylor, Bobby, 47, 123
Gazzolo, Frank, 299
Gee-Jays, 30
Gehringer, Charles, 127
Genaro, Dave, 234
Genaro & Bailey, 42
Genee, Adele, 46
Gentle, Alice, 79
Gentleman Jim (film), 119
George, Edwin, 25
George, Jack, 142
"George Washington Cohen/' 51
"Georgia Minstrels, The," 140
German acts. See Dutch acts
Gerner, Fred, & Co., 161
Gershwin, George, 307, 326, 328
Gerson, Meyer and Ella, 279, 301
Gest, Morris, 41, 388, 389, 391
"Get Hot," 234
Gibb, Mary and Marguerite, 152
Gibbons, Floyd, 213, 487
Gifford, Julia May, 120
Gigatonos, The, 45
Gilbert, Gloria, 496
Gilbert, Sir W. S., 49
Gillette's Baboons and Monkeys, 163
Gillette's Dogs and Monkeys, 167
Gilly-Gilly, 109
Gilpin, Charles, 204
Gilsey House, N.Y.C., 305, 384
Gilson, Gertie, 151
Gilson, Lottie, 59, 151-152, 320-321
Giovanni, 488
Giradot, Etienne, 92
Girard, Robert D., 361
Girard Brothers, 153, 323
Girl acts, 232-234
Girl Behind the Counter, The, 42
Girl with the 1000 Eyes, The, 110
INDEX
Givot, George, 102
Glason, Billy, 198, 328
Glass, Montague, 209-210
Gleason, Bill, 125, 126
Gleason, Jackie, 256
Glenn & Jenkins, 82, 85
Glenroy, James Richmond, 193
Glissando, Phil, 66
Glockers, The, 25
Glover, Lyman B., 349
Glyn, Elinor, 225
Godfrey, Arthur, 73, 256
Godfrey, George, 485
Godwin, Jack, 75
Goldberg, Jack, 502
Goldberg, Phil, 327
Goldberg, Rube, 211
Golden, Claude, 108
Golden, George Fuller, 123, 136,
iTB'1?^ B11^12
Golden, Horace, 106, 107
Golden, John, 49, 310
Golden Gate Professional Club, 298
Golden Gate Quartette, 205
Goldie, Robert, 326
Goldman, Pete, 132
Goldsmith, Mose, 293
Goldsmith & Hoppe, 68
Golfers, 129
Gomez, Vernon "Lefty," 126
Gompers, Samuel, 312
Goodell & Nora Williams, 488
Goodman, Jules Eckert, 210
Goodwin, Nat, 100, 103, 251
Gordon, Bert, & Gene Ford, 230
Gordon, Cliff, 192
Gordon, Harry & Bert, 153
Gordon, Max, 192, 234, 485, 503
Gordon & Lord, 247
Gordon and Richards' Comique,
Butte, Mont., 14
Gordon Bros., 164
Gordon Highlanders, 68
Gordoni, Arthur, 57
Gorman, Rev. Frank, 220
Gotch, Frank, 128
Gotham Theatre, Harlem, 240
Gouge, Jim, i 1 6
530
Gould, Billy, 211, 298, 323
Gould, Frank, 393
Gould, Jay, & Flo Lewis, 233
Gould, Venita, 99
Gould & Lewis, 229
Goulding, Edmund, 326
Goulette & Fogler, 130
Gowdy, Hank, 126
Gowongo, The Great, 108, 204
Graces, Three, 148
Grady, Billy, 503
Graggar Bros., 32
Graham, Lillian, 387
Grahams, Four Novelty, 1 2 1
Grandi, Lou, 327
Grange, Red, 130, 256
Granlund, Nils T., 210, 247, 499,
502
Grant, Alf, 136
Grant, Gary, 21
Grant, Fred Bula, 87
Grant, Sydney, 100; & Charlotte
Greenwood, 229
Grant Hotel, Chicago, 281
Granville, Bernard, 46, 102, 198,
295; & Dorothy, 154
Granville, Taylor, 137, 232
Grapewin, Charley, 21
Grauman, Pop, 242, 245
Grauman, Sid, 245, 260
Gray, Gilda (May), 42, 102, 252
Gray, Harry, 327
Gray, Tommy, 49, 130, 231, 268
Gray & Graham, 70
Greasy Front club, 297-298
Greater New York Film Exchange,
240
Greb, Harry, 122
Greeley Square Theatre, N.Y.C., 383
Green, Burt, 61-62, 328
Green, Clay M., 49
Green, Cora, Ada Smith & Florence
Mills, 204
Green, Harry C., 51, 136, 231, 234
Green, Mitzi, 147
Green, Phil, 306
Green, McHenry & Dean, 80
Green Room Club, 293-294
INDEX
Greenpoint Theatre, Brooklyn, 357
Green's, Philadelphia, 281
Greenway, Ann, 59
Greenwood, Charlotte, 40, 46, 229
Greenwood Agency, 243
Greer, Brady, 394
Greer, Jessie, 327
Griff, 24, 134
Griffin, Gerald, 79
Griffin, Joseph, 79
Griffin, Kate, 205
Griffith, Billy, 327, 328
Griffith, D. W., 280
Griff o, Kid, 122
Crock, 490
Groody, Louise, & Hal Skelly, 230
Gross, Milt, 211
Gruber's Elephants, 158
Guerine, Archie, 90
"Guest, The," 51
Guilbert, Yvette, 251, 382
Guilford, Nanette, 78
Guinan, Texas, 68, 324
Guinness, Maj. Victor, 306
Guiran & Marguerite, 45
Guyer, Charles, & Nellie O'Neill, 321
Guyer& Goodwin, 230
Gygi, Otto, 69, 487
11
Haas, "Chuck," 36
Hackenschmidt, 128, 129
Hackett, Jarnes J., 502
Hackett Theatre, N.Y.C., 382
Hadji AH, 219
Iladley, Bump, 127
Hagan, Ollie, 120
Hagenlacher, Eric, 131
Hager, Clyde, 497
Haggerty, George, 489
Hahn, Wells & O'Donell, 79
Hakoah, 219
Hale, Marty, 125
Hale, Ruth, 210
Hale & Patterson, 45
531
Haley, Jack, 90; & Flo McFadden^
230
Haley Sisters, Four, 76, 150
Halkings, The, 112
Hall, Adelaide, 205-206
Hall, Bob, 198
Hall, E. M., 64, 319
Hallen & Hart, 227
Hallett, Mai, 72
Halligan, Bill, 84
Halligan & Sykes, 52
Halperin, Nan, 54, 235
Ham Tree, The, 140
Hamid, George, 22
Hamilton, Dixie, 60
Hamlet, 51
Hammerstein, Arthur, 380-381, 395-
396
Hamrnerstein, Elaine, 381
Hammerstein, Emma Swift, 384
Hammerstein, Malvina Jacoby, 384
Hammerstein, Oscar, 41, 233, 247-
248, 272, 296, 392; biography ofr
381-385
Hammerstein, Oscar, 2d, 380-381
Hammerstein, Rose Blau, 384
Hammerstein, Willie, 40, 118, 123,
214, 363, 371, 381; at Victoria
Theatre, 385'395
Hammerstein's Roof Gardens, 388-
389
Hampden, Walter, 51
Hamper, Genevieve, 51
Hampton, Hope, 363
Hamtown Students, 319
Handis & Millis, 134
Handman, Lou, 95, 327, 328; &
Florae LaVere, 230
Handy, Hap, & Co., 217
Handy, W. C., 206-207, 234
Haney, Fred, 127
Hanlon, Bert, 119, 198, 231, 240,,
489
Hanlon, Toma, 94
Hanneford, Poodles, 21, 160
"Happy Family, The," 168
"Happy Pair, A," 50
Harcourt, Daisy, 50, 1 34
INDEX
Hardeen, iaz
Hare, Sir John, 306
Harkins, Jim & Marion, 230
Harlem Opera House, N.Y.C., 367,
382
Harlow, Richard, 88
Harmon, Josephine, & Sands, 151
Harney, Ben, 61, 62
Harold, Orville, 78, 378-379
Harold & Lola, 501
Harper & Stencil, 322
Harrah, Roy, 32
Harrigan, "The Tramp Juggler/' 23
Harrington (piano player), 62
Harrington, Hamtree, & Cora Green,
205
Harris, Charlie, 89
Harris, Dave, 68
Harris, Marion, 59, 327
Harris, May, 129
Harris, Tommy, 234
Harris Theatre, N.Y.C., 382
Harrison, Lee, 211
Harrison & Fisher, 45
Hart, Annie, 234
Hart, Bill, 256
Hart, Charlie, 79
Hart, Joe, 232, 233, 487
Hartigan's Saloon, N.Y.C., 13
Hartley, Frank, 25
Hartley, Randolph, 210
Hartman, Marie, 229, 301
Harvard University, 299
Harvel, George W., 115
Harvest Moon, 308
Haskell, Loney, 130, 165, 188, 393,
395
Haslam, 112
Hassel Benali Troupe, 28
Hathaway, Belle, 163
Hathaway's Indian Tableaux, 37-38
Havania, 89
Havel, Arthur & Puggy, 82, 85,^148,
*53
Havel, O'Brien, 52, 148, 323, 396
Haveman's Animals, 166
Haverly, John B., 335
Hawaiian Trio, 70, 323
532
Hawkins, Lew, 142
Hawks, Wells, 295
Hawley, Guy, 321
Hawthorne, Hilda, 116
Hawthorne & Burt, 86
Hawthorne & Cook, 83
Hayden, Borden & Hayden, 80
Hayes, Brent, 64
Hayes, Edmund, 135
Hayes, Grace, 54, 60, 148
Hayes, John J., 129-130
Hayes, Peter Lind, 148
Hayes, Rich, 26
Hayes, Roland, 323
Hayes, Tommy, 66
Haymarket Theatre, Chicago, 348
Haynes & Vidoq, 141
Hazard, Grace, 59
Hazzard, John, 142
Healey, Ted, 199, 264-265, 489
Healey & Cross, 80
Healey's, Boston, 286
Heam, Bonita & Lew, 136, 204, 230
Hearn, Sam, & Helen Eil, 230
Hearn, Tom, "The Lazy Juggler/' 25
Heath, Frankie, 60
Heather, Josie, 60
Hebrew comics, 175-176, 177-178,
179-180, 319; sample script, 454-
458
Hecht, Ben, 5, 209
Hector & His Pals, 161
Hedges Bros. & Jacobson, 80
Hegedus Sisters, 69
Heilman, Harry, 127
Heim, Bud & Nellie, 154, 230
Heiman, Marcus, 350, 485
Held, Anna, 101
Hellinger, Mark, 209, 213
Hellraisers' club, 304
Henderson, Dell, 280
Henderson, Fletcher, 205
Henderson's Coney Island, 62
Hendler, Hershel, 68
Henley, Margie, 309
Hennessy, Dan, 241
Henri, Mile. Henrietta, 328
Henri Court, N.Y.C., 280
INDEX
Henry, Dick, & Carrie Adelaide, 43
Her Way Out, 308
Herbert, Victor, 307
Herford, Beatrice, 192
Herman, Al, 142, 198
Herman, "The Dancing Skeleton," &
Shirley, 36
Herman's Jungle Kings, Richard, 157
Hermitage Hotel, N.Y.C., 280, 296
Herrmann, Dr., 224
Herrmann, Mrs. Adele, 106
Herrmann, Alexander, 107
Hershfield, Harry, 198, 211, 269,
280, 302-303, 489
Hertz, Carl, 109
Hertz, Ralph, 198
Hess, Cliff, 328
Heywood, Charles, 88, 320
Hibbit & Hartman, 229
Hickey Bros., Three, 43, 153
Hickman, Art, 72
Hicks, L. B., 216
Hicks, Leonard, 281
Hilda, the Handcuff Queen, 112
Hildegarde, 126, 138, 256, 328, 496
Hildona Apartments, N.Y.C., 280
Hildreth, Robert, 98
Hill, Gus, 23, 320
Hill & Sylvany, 31
"Hill-Billy Revue," 233
Hillcrest Golf Club, 300
I Iillebrancl, Fred, 119-120, 309; &
Vera Michelina, 324
Hill's, Harry, N.Y.Q, 13
Hilton, Daisy & Violet, 152, 225
Hines, Florence, 204
Hippodrome (National Theatre),
Boston, 248
Hippodrome, N.Y.C., 249, 357
Hirsh, Harry, 213
"His Wedding Mom," 146
Hitachuyma, 128
Hitchcock, Raymond, 189-190
Hite, Mabel, 59, 118, 124-125
Hoagland, Carl ton, 485
Hockey & Green, 231
Hector, Harriet, 46
Hodgdon, Sam K., 338, 405, 483-484
533
Hodges, Musical, 68, 147
Hoey, James F., & Evans, 320
Hoey & Lee, 83, 322
Hoffman, Aaron, 49, 52, 178, 19*,
Hoffman, Gertrude, 35, 41, 54, 100,
233, 251, 391-392
Hoffman, Lora, 79
Hogan, Ernest, 198, 201, 203
Holden, Maxwell, 111
Holden's Manikins, 117
Holiday Sisters, 204
Holland, Edmund S., 305
Hollenden Hotel, Cleveland, 281
Hollis Chambers, Boston, 286
Hollister, Len, 49
Hollywood Theatre, N.Y.C., 296
Holm, Eleanor, 221
Holman, Harry, 52
Holmes, Coney, 243
Holmes, Taylor, 100, 186-187, 317-
318,487,489
Holtz, Lou, 90, 101, 142, 198, 254,
280,489,492, 495
"Home Again," 233
Hon, Billy, and Harry Price, 213
Honey Family, 488
"Honey Girls," 233
"Honeymoon, The," 51
Hong Ping Chien & Co., 109
Honky-tonks, 11-16, 19-20
Hoop rolling acts, 33
Hootchy-kootchy dance, 40-41
Hope, Lord and Lady, 392-393
Hope, Bob, 198, 255, 323, 489
Hopes, Six, 244
Hopkins, Arthur, 49, 174, 209, 233
Hopkins, John, Louisville Theatre
and Parks, 349
Hoppe, Willie, 131,216
Hopper, Edna Wallace, 219-220, 328
Hopper, Hedda, 214
Hopper, Lightning, 213, 383
Hoppers, The, 25
Horan, Eddie, 234
Horizontal bar acts, 32
Home, Lena, 254
Horowitz, Charles, 231
INDEX
Horse acts, 160
Hot Air Club, 304
Hotels, 276-286
Houdini, Harry, 21, 37, 112-113,
138, 386
House of David, 72
"Housewarmers/' 233-234
Houston, Belle, 1 5
Howard, Bill, 485
Howard, Bronson, 210
Howard, Fred, 114
Howard, The Great, 114
Howard, Joe E., 13, 80
Howard» Sam, 154
Howard, Wille, 100, 102; & Eugene,
83, 85, 86, 154
Howard & Heck, "The Kugelwalker
Twins," 216
Howard & North, 82-83
Howard & Shelton, 87
Howard & Thompson, 319
Howard Bros., 64
Howard Theatre, Boston, 335
Howard's, Mother, Baltimore, 281
Howard's Dog and Ponies, 161
Howe and Scott, 204
Ho well, Harry, 127
Hoyt, Wait, 126, 127, 328
Hubbard, Elbert, 211-212
Huber, Fred H., and Kitty Alyne,
226
Huber, Otto, 356
Hubert Museum, N.Y.C., 16, 237
Hubert's Museum, N.Y.C., 121
Hudson, Mable, 116
Hudson, "What a Man/' 221-222
Huehn, Billy "Musical/' 66
Hufford & Chain, 142
Hughes, Gene, 78, 150, 268, 294-295-
Hughling's Seals, 165
Hume, Charles, 203
Humphries, Joe, 124
Humphries, "Tink," 351
Hungarian Boys' Band, 345
Hunt, Zelland, 66
Huntley, J. P., 134
Hurgon, August, 487
Hurley House, Philadelphia, 281
534
Hurst, Watts & Hurst, 80
Hurtig and Seamon, 242
Hussey, George W., 114
Hussey, Jimmy, 121, 198, 258-259,
300
Hussey & Boyle, 87
Hutton, Betty, 256
Hyams, Johnny, & Leilia Mclntyre,
148
Hyams, Leilia, 148
Hyatt, Dan, 84; & Jessie, 137
Hyde, Victor, & Sister, i 54
Hyde and Behman, 356, 417-418
Hymack, 98
Hyman, Harry, 111
Hyman, Joe, & Franklin, 324
Hymer, John B., 51
Hypnotists, 110-111; sample dia-
logue, 480
Hyson, Carl, & Dorothy Dickson, 45
Ichi, Ten, 109
Illusionists, 107
Imhof, Roger, 22; Conn, & Corinne,
22, ^l, 501
Imitators, 99-104
Imperial Chinese Trio, 79
Imperial Gardens, N.Y.C., 385
Imperial Theatre, N.Y.C-> 240
Impersonators. See Female imperson-
ators; Male impersonators
"In Self Defence," 97
Inge & Farrel, 95
Inglis, Jack, 199
Inglis & Reading, 230
Ink Spots, 205
Inman, Henry, 306
Innes & Ryan, 229
Inter-State Circuit, 127, 235, 349
"Into the Light/' 97
loleen Sisters, 35, 151
Irish acts, 319-321; double, sample
script, 452-454
'Irish Servant Girls, The/' 85, 88
INDEX
Irvine, Rev. Alexander, & Co,, 225
Irving House, Philadelphia, 281
Irvington Hall, N.Y.C., 280
Irwin, Charles, i 34
Irwin, Flo, 151
Irwin, Jack, 217
Irwin, May, 62, 151, 484
Isaacs, Jake, 13
Ismed, 68
Italian act, double sample script, 448-
451
Jack, Sam T., 344
Jackson, Billy, 351
Jackson, Joe, 21, 31, 138
Jackson, Two, 227
Jacobs, Arthur, 240
Jacobs, H., 365, 366
Jacobs, Jennie, 280
Jacobson, Paul, 129
James, Rian, 213
Jamison, Neil, 333
Janet of France, 54
Jams, Elsie, 54, 56, 99, 100, 138,
251, 348, 484
Jansen, Herr, 98
Jardon, Dorothy, 78, 232
Jarnegan, Jerry, 328
Jarrow, 108, 137
"Jealousy," 51
Jeff (kangeroo), 164
Jefferson, Joseph, 18, 307
Jeffries, Jim, 121, 123, 251
Jemima, Aunt, 59
Jennings, Hugh, 125
Jennings, Pat O'Malley, 84, 232
Jerome, Billy, 231
Jess, Johnny, 321
Jessel, Mrs,, 240
Jessel, George, 90, 101, 102, 150,
198, 232, 234, 492, 495, 501-502
Jesters club, 295
Jewels, Juggling, 383
Jewel's Marionettes, Mme., 117
535
Jewish comics, 175-176, 177-178,
179-180, 319; sample script, 454-
458
Jewish Theatrical Guild, 304, 373
Jockeys, 130-131
Joel's Restaurant, 30, 503
Johnson, Arthur, 328
Johnson, Bill, 202
Johnson, J. Rosamond, 72, 83, 136,
202, 203, 206-207, 234
Johnson, Jack, 121, 220
Johnson, Mabel, 116
Johnson & Baker, 26
Johnson & Bruno, 319
Johnson & Dean, 42, 201
Johnson, Baker & Johnson, 26
Johnsons, The, 69
Johnston, Chester, 383
Johnston, Johnny, 261
Johnstone, Ralph, 30-31
Johnstons, Musical, 152
Jolly Corks, 19
Job (Joshua Lowe), 97
Jolson, Al, 101, 154, 196-197, 251-
252, 282, 295, 318, 394, 412, 488;
Palmer & Jolson, 141
Jolson, Harry, 141, 154
Jones, Aaron, 375
Jones, Charlie, 394
Jones, Frank, 394
Jones, Irving, 202
Jones, Isharn, 72
Jones, Sissieretta, The Black Patti,
79, 205
Jones, Spike, 73
Jones, Linick & Schafer, 244, 246
Jones Bros., 203
Jordan, Charlie, & Johnny Woods,
487
Jordan, Dolly, 328
Jordan, Harry, 339-340, 409, 485
Jordan, Joe, 63, 500
Jordan & Harvey, 136
Jose, Dick, 77
Jose & Burns, 45
Josefsson's Icelandic Troupe, Joh, 129
Jovedah, no
Joyce, Jack, 328
INDEX
Judels, Charlie, 259
Judge Family, 28
"Judgment," 51
Jugglers, 23-27; sample dialogue, 478-
479
Juliet, 54, 99, 100
Jungman Family, 31
Jupiter Bros., 109
K
Kahane, Hany, 218
Kahn, Mohammed, 109
Kahn, Roger Wolfe, 72
Kaiser-Frazer, 256
Kaltenborn, H. V., 213
Karnochi, 106
Kane, Helen, 54, 102
Kane & Herman, 85, 86
Kara, 21, 23
Karl ton & Klifford, 212
Kartella (Julian St. George), 30
Kashima, 25
Katzenstein, Emil, 62
Kaufman, George S., 209, 210
Kaufman, Irving, 75, 141
Kaufman, S. Jay, 49, 209, 293
Kaufman, Wolf, 210
Kaufman Bros., 85, 141
Kaufmans, Original Six, 31
Kavanaugh, Stan, 26
Kay, Dolly, 60
Kay, Jesse, 502
Kaye, Danny, 255
Keane, Richard, 98
Keane, Robert Emmett, 198
Kearns, Doc, 252
Keating, Fred, 106
Keatons, The, 30, 147, 280
Keefe, Matt, 84
Keefe, Walter, 243
Keegan, Joseph, 307
Keeley, Ed, 410
Keenan, Frank, 51, 483
Keene, Laura, 335
Keene & Williams, 230
536
Keen's Chop House, 306
Kehoe, Jim, 23, 319
Keith, A. Paul, 341, 346
Keith, Benjamin Franklin 17, 63,
286, 342-343, 357, 366, 368-369,
404; biography of, 337-341; oppo-
sition of White Rats to, 311
Keith, Mary Catherine Branley (Mrs.
B. R), 340-341
Keith Vaudeville Exchange. See
United Booking Office, 248
Keith's Boys Band, 345, 499
Kellar, 107
Keller, Helen, 225
Keller Sisters & Lynch, 79, 1 54
Kellerman, Annette, 34, 131, 234
Kellog, Charles, 215
Kelly, Bert, & His Jazz Band, 71
Kelly, George, 49, 80
Kelly, Harry, 280
Kelly, J. W., 172-173
Kelly, Jack & Violet, 36
Kelly, John W., 322
Kelly, Mike "King," 127
Kelly, Patsy, 231, 489; & Wood, 230
Kelly, Tom, 61, 62
Kelly, Walter C., the Virginia Judge,
123, 193-194, 198, 202, 269
Kelly, William J., 368
Kelly & Kent, 229
Kelly & Leon, 88
Kelly & Murphy, 322
Kelso, Jim, & Leigh ton, 229
Kelso Brothers, 24
Kelton Family, 148- Pert, 54, 148,
152, 231; Sue, 152
Kempy, 180
Kendall, Ezra, 181, 211
Kenna, Charles, 190
Kennedy, Charles O'Grien, 271
Kennedy, Harry, 114
Kennedy, Joseph P., 482
Kennedy, Ma, 221-222
Kennedy & Platt, 83
Kennedy, Nobody & Platt, 224
Kennedys, Dancing, 45
Kenny, Nick, 213
Kenny & Hollis, 83, 85, 490
INDEX
537
Keno & Green, 147
Kent, Annie, 60, 125, 229
Kent, S. Miller, 97
Kerker7 Gustave, 384
Kern, Jerome, 328
Kern, Jimmy, 80
Kernan's, Baltimore, 281
Kernell, Harry & John, 319
Kersands, Billy, 203
Kessler, Aaron, 389, 394
Ketchell, Stanley, 123
Kettering, Ralph T., 49, 210, 299
Kharum, 68
"Kick In," 51
"Kid Kabaret," 232
Kieran, John, 213
Kiernan, Walter, 213
Killgallen, Dorothy, 213
Kilties' Band, 356
Kimball & Donovan, 64
Kimberly & Page, 136
Kincaid, Billy, 25
King, Charlie, 100
King, Dennis, 496
King, Hetty, 95
King, Mazie, 46
King, Mollie, & Charles, 154; & Nel-
lie, 95
King, Rose, 229
King, King & King, 44
King Bros. & Cully, 496
Kingsley, Florence, 328
Kingsley, Walter, 210, 486
Kingston, Mindil, 324
Kirk, W. F., 209
Kirksmith Sisters, Six, 68
Kirkwood, Jack, 129
"Kiss Me," 236
Klank, Exnil, 128
Klass, Charlie, 69
Klauber, Adolph, 210
Klaw & Brlanger, 133, 165, 373
Klee, Mel, 142
Kleinecke, Gits, 326
Klien Bros., 83, 152-153? All, 84, 85
Kling, Johnny, 125
Kling, Ken, 311
Knickerbocker Hotel, N.Y.C., 284
Knight, George S., 319
Knowles, Dick (R. G.), 136, 198
Kockamanias Club, 301
Koh-i-noor Diamond, The, 384
Kohl, Charles E., 235, 348; & Castle,
361
Kolb & Dill, 86
Koster and Bial's, N.Y.C., 14, 237,
382
Kramer, Maude, 43
Kramer & Morton, 86, 142
Kratons, The, 33, 205
Kraus, Emma, & Her Dutch Picks, 56
Krees, Karl, 212
Kronold, Hans, 69
Kugelwalker Twins, 216
Kuhns, Three White, 80
Kurtis's Educated Roosters, 163
Kurtzman, Henry, 300
Kyser, Kay, 72, 254
Lackaye, Wilton, 257-258, 270, 271
La Croix, Paul, 2 5
La Dent, 25
LaDue, Weadick &, 22, 36
Laemmle, Carl, 351
Lafayette, The Great, 103, 107
Lafayette Theatre, Harlem, 204
La Follette, Fola, 220
La Biffs Tavern, 268
Lahr, Bert, & Mercedes, 230
Laine, Frankie, 256
Lait, Jack, 133, 209, 210, 231, 258,
374, 503
Lake, Arthur and Florence, 495-496
Lakeside Golf Club, 300
Lamb, Gil, 47
Lambert, Maude, 59
Lamberti, The Great, 69
Lambs Club, 704-310
LaMont, Alice & Sonny, 154
LaMont, Blanche, 47
Lament's Cockatoos, 163
LaMoyne Bros., 32
INDEX
533
Lancaster, Burt, 21
Land, Mildre, 328
Landfield, Sydney, 327
Landick, Olin, 90
Landry, Art, 72
Landry, Bob, 221
Lang, Harry, & Bernice Haley, 230
Lang, Sandy, 32
Langtry, Mrs. Lillian, 51
Lannon, Joe, 124
Lardner, Ring, 126, 209, 270
Larkins, Jolly John, 205
LaRue, Grace, 54, 101; & Her Inky-
Dinks, 56
LaRue, Jules, & Jean Depre, 212
La Salbini, 31
Lashwood, George7 133, 197
Lasky, Jesse, 67, 210, 232
Lastfogel, Abe, 374
La Sylph, 42
Lauder, George S., 114
Lauder, Sir Harry, 102, 133, 197,
251, 372-373'491> 5°3
Laughlin, Ann, 59
Laurie, Joe, Jr., 185, 206, 231, 234,
309; & Nephews, 496
Laurie & Aleen, 230, 323
Laurie & Bronson, 228, 229, 240, 280
LaValliere's Football Dogs, 166
La Van's, Flossie, Philadelphia, 281
La Veen, & Cross, 29
La Vere, Florrie, 9 5
LaVier, Jack, 22
Lavine, General Ed, 25
Lavino, Dolph & Susie, 227
Law, Evelyn, 40
Lawlor, Charles B., and Daughters,
M7
Lawlor, Frank, 236
"Lawn Party, The/' 234
Lawrence, Gertrude, 133, 253
Lazar, 75
Lazar & Lazar, 67
Leach, Al, 47, 318; & His Rosebuds,
44
"Leading Lady, The," 236
Leaner & Krebs, 1 30
Leavitt, Harry, 293
Leavitt, M. S., 10, 371
LeBlang, Joe, 503
Lebonati, 69
Le Clair, Harry, 88, 97
Le Clair, John, 319
Lederer, James L., 244
Lee, Al, 83, 84, 86
Lee, Canada, 205
Lee, Harriet, 43, 229
Lee, Henry, 103-104
Lee, Jane and Kathryn, 145, 151,
164, 253
Lee, Lester, 327
Lee, Lila, 232
Lee, Sammy, 396; and Harry Evans,
43
Lee & Cowan, 64
Lee Tung Foo, 79
Leedom, Edna, 59, 229
Le Grohs, The, 36
Lehman, Martin, 360
Lehman Estate, Chicago, 349
Lehr, Lew, 90
Lei Lani, Princess, 79
Leibman, J., 63
Leightner, Fred, & Rosella McQueen,
230
Leighton, Blanche, 229
Leighton, Rags, 47
Leightons, Three, 153
Leipsig, Nate, 108
Leit, Joop, 124
Leitzel, Lillian, 31
Leitzell Sisters, 151
Le Leonardi, Countess, 69
Lelith, Ola, 488
LeMaire, George, 83, 84; and
Mooney, 84
Lena, Lilly, 59
Lensberg, Jules, 63, 486
Leo, Joe, 241, 410
Leon (Kelly & Leon), 88, 320
Leon, The Great, 109
Leon, Guy, 165
Leonard, Benny, 122, 493, 497
Leonard, Eddie, 47, 101, 113
INDEX
539
Leonard, Father, 188
Leonard, Grace, 95
Leonard, Jim & Sadie, 229
Leonard & Ward, 240
Leoncavallo, Ruggiero, 251
Leone's restaurant, 299-300
Lerner, Tina, 68
Le Roy, Hal, 45, 488
Le Roy, Talma & Bosco, 106
Le Roy Marionettes, 117
Leslie, Amy, 299
Leslie, Bert, 49, 269
Leslie, Edward, 97
Leslie, Fred H., 161
Leslie, Lew, 204
Lester, The Great, 114, 215
Lester, Harry B., 198
Lester, Wil, 75
Lester & Allen, 321
Lester & Williams, 322
Letine, Alfred, 90
Leucher, Mark, 46, 210, 486
Levant, Oscar, 72
Levantine, 22, 365; see also F. F.
Proctor
Levebritt, George M., 373
Levi, Jules, 69
Levi, Maurice, and His Invisible
Band, 70
Levine, Mattie, 327
Levy, Colonel, 353
Levy, Abe, 388
Levy, Arthur, 502
Levy, Bert, 211
Levy, Bert ( independent hooker), 243
Levy, Ethel, 54
Lewis, Al, 234, 503
Lewis, Flo, 60, 229
Lewis, Henry "Squigilum," 198
Lewis, Jade, 83, 84, 86-87
Lewis, Joe E., 256
Lewis, Sid, 199
Lewis, Strangler, 128, 129
Lewis, Ted, 72, 80, 102, 198, 254
Lewis, Tom, 125, 179, 311
Lewis & Dody, 83
Lewis & Gordon, 192
Lewis & Lake, 235
Lexington Opera House, N.Y.C., 247-
248, 384
Leybourne, Harry, 89
Libbera, "The Man with Two Bod-
ies," 251
"Liberty Aflame," 50
Lief, Max, 210
Lightner, Theo, 328
Lightner, Winnie, 59, 79
Lights (club), 298-299
Lillie, Beatrice, 54, 133, 231, 254,
483
Liman, George, 371
Lind?, 41, 88, 89, 320
Lindbergh, Charles, 221, 253
Linder, Mark, 98
Lindsay, Fred, 36
Lindy's restaurant, 260
Lingard, Georgie, 368
Lion acts, 156-157
Lion's Palace, N.Y.C., 245
Little, Jack, 68
Little Billy, 261, 300
Little Club, N.Y.C., 503
"Little Cottage, The," 234
Little Egypt, 40, 41
Little Johnny Jones, 125, 130-131
"Little Miss Mix-Up," 236
Little Rosebud, 320
Littlest Rebel, The, 308
Livingston, Cora, 129
Lloyd, Al, 83
Lloyd, Alice, 53, 133
Lloyd, Herbert, 25
Lloyd, Marie, 134, 251
Lloyds, Five, 160
Locke, Ed, 209
Lockett, Lou, & Jack Waldron, 43
Lockfords, The, 46
Lockhart's, Elephants, 158
Lockridge, Richard, 210
Loeb, Jack, 410
Loew, David and Arthur, 379
Loew, Marcus, 237, 239, 245, 247,
254> 373> 383> 499-5°°; biography
of, 374-380
INDEX
540
Loftus, Cecilia (Cissie),99, 135,251,
484
Lohse & Sterling, 31
Lombardo, Guy, 72, 254
London, Jack, 49
London Theatre, N.Y.C., 226
Londons, Four, 31; Ernst, 22
Long, Nick, 97
Long Tack Sam, 108
Lookers club, 300
Loos, Anita, 209
Lopez, Vincent, 71, 233, 302, 328
Lorenze, Johnny, 321
Loretta, Alice, 161
Lorette, H. M., 25
Lorraine, Oscar, 68, 198
Lorraine Sisters, 150
Louis, Chevalier de, 35
Louis, Joe, 256
Loumas Troupe, 21
Love & Haight, 90
"Love and Revenge of American In-
dians/' 38
"Love Shop, The," 233
Lovenberg Sisters, 43
Lox Club, 299
Lubin, Jake, 376, 379-380, 500
Lubin, Sigmund, 245
Luby, Edna, 99
Lucas, Nick, 488
Lucas, Sam, 203
Luchow's Restaurant, N.Y.C., 121
Lukens, Four, 31
Lumiere's Motion Pictures, 322
Lunchmore, Hodges, 206
Lunettes, The, 151
Lupinos, The, 134
Lurline, 320
Lutz Bros., 215
Lydell, A17 47
Lydell & Higgins, 86
Lyman, Abe, 72
Lyman, Tommy, 335
Lyons, Bill, 125
Lyons, George, & Eddie Parks, 90
Lyric Theatre, 3821
Lytell, Bert, 310
McAllister, Paul, 368
Macart & Bradford, 52
MacArthur, Charles, 209
MaCart's Monkeys, 163
McAuhffe, Jack, 383
McAvoy, Dick & Alice, 227
McAvoy, J. P., 209
Macbeth, 51
McBride, Mamie, 486
McBride, Mary Margaret, 213
McBride & Cavanaugh, 233
MacCabe, Frederick, 115
McCabe & Emmett, 320
McCaffery, Bill, 485
McCane, Mabel, 59, 80
McCarthy Sisters, 1 50
McClellan & Carson, 22
McClelland, Mayor, 241
McCloskcy, John, 79
McConell, Lulu, 231; & Grant Simp-
son, 52, 148, 229
McCormack, John, 79, 252, 307
McCormick, Wm. A., 161
McCoy, Bessie, 101; & Nellie, 151
McCoy, Kid, 121-122
McCoy, Fitzgibbons Trio, 199
McCree, Junie, 15, 49, 231, 387
McCullough, Carl, 198
McCullough, Paul. See Bobby Clark
& Paul McCullough
McDonald, Baby, 320
McDonald, Nobel, 62
McDougall, Walt, 212
MacFayden, Alexander, 68
McGarvey, 89
McGivney, Owen, 96, 98
McGovern, Terry, 118
McGradys, Three Scotch, 33
McGraw, John J., 125
McGuire, William Anthony, 268, 279
McHale, Marty, 125
Machnow, 391
McHugh, Bart, 232-234
McHugh, Eddy, 126
Mclntosh, Burr, 216-217
INDEX
541
Mclntosh, Mr. and Mrs. Tom, 203
Mclntyre & Hardy, 486
Mclntyre & Heath, 83, 85, 88, 90,
135, 139-140
Mack (tailor), 502
Mack, Andrew, 79, 307
Mack, Charles, Moran &, 84, 102,
320; Swor &, 142
Mack, Eddie, 223
Mack, J. C., 89
Mack, Russell, 211
Mack, Tim, 148
Mack (McNamarra), Tom, 211
Mack, Wilbur, & Nella Walker, 228
Mack, Willard, 49, 51, 121, 268, 279
Mack & Orth, 85
Mack & Williams, 44
Mackay, Clarence, 253
Mackay, Mrs. Clarence, 383
McKay, Frederick, 210
McKay, George, 298
McKay, Windsor, 211
Mackey, Alice, 205
McKibbon Bros., 240
Mackin & Wilson, 88, 142
McKinley, Neil, 135, 199
McKnight, Orrn, 115
McKinley Square Theatre, N.Y.C.,
247
McLaglen, Victor, 21
MacLaine, Lord Kenneth Douglas
Lome, 134-135
McLaughlin & Evans, 229
McLellan & Carson, 230
McMahon & Chappie, 229, 232-233
McManus, George, 211
McNally, Walter, 79
McNamarra (bicycle racer), 130
McNamarra (clay modeler), 212
McNamarra, Tom, 30, 211, 280
McNaughton, 'The Human Tank,"
219
McNaughton, Torn, 134; & Fred, 85,
*34
McNish, Frank E,, 419
McNish & fohnson, 320
McNulty & Murray, 319
McNulty Sisters, 47
McNultys, Happy, 148
McNutts, Cycling, 31
McPhail, Vince, 413
McPherson, Aimee Semple, 221, 254
McVicker's Theatre, Chicago, 218
McVoy, William, 123
Macy, Carlton, 294
Mme. Pompadour, 363
Maddock, Charles, 232, 234
Madison, James, 49, 231
"Mag Haggerty" sketches, 49
"Maggie Taylor, Waitress,*' 50
Magic acts, 104-111, 320; sample
dialogue, 479
Mahoney, Sam, 35
Mahoney, Tom, 192
Mahoney, Will, 47, 86, 102, 136,
153, 198, 224, 318
Mahoney Bros., 153; & Daisy, 86
Mahr, Agnes, 94
Maison Doree Hotel, N.Y.C., 305
Majestic Theatre, Chicago, 249, 349,
356
Majestic Theatre, Milwaukee, 249
Majiltons, The, 46
Male impersonators, 93-96
Maley, Steve, 172
Mallen, Dave, 100
Maloney, J. J., 359
Mamiux, Al, 126
Man and woman acts. See Mixed
acts
"Man to Man," 51
Mandell, William & Joe, 22
Maney, Dick, 486
Manhattan Comedy Four, 76
Manhattan Opera House (Broad-
way), 382
Manhattan Opera House (West 34th
St.), 383
Manikin Music Hall, 117
Mann, Allan, & Dorothy Dell, 487
Mann, Allyn, 89
Mann, Ben & Hazel, 230
Mann, Billy, 80
Mann, Lew, 489
Mann, Louis, 258-259, 261
Manning, Bishop, 347
INDEX
Manola, Marion, 50, 404
Mantell, Robert, 51
MantelFs Mechanical Marionettes,
117
Manuel, 109
Marabin, Luigi, 216
Maranville, Rabbit, 126
Marathon runners, 129-130
Marble, Ann, 210, 388, 391
Marble's Gems, 37
Marceline, 29
Marcelle's Birds, 163
Marcello, 212, 216
Marck's Lions, 157
Marco Twins, 41
Marconi Bros., 69
Marcou, 111-112
Marcus, Meyer, 211
Marcus Shows, A. B., 236
Mardo, Al, 167
Marinelli, H. B,, 37, 133
Mario, 75
Marion, Sid, 488; & Marion Ford,
230
Marionettes, 117
Mark, Mitchell, 375
Marks, Ted, 182, 502
Marlom, Frank, 419
Marnello, 89
Marquard, Rube, 125
Marquis, Don, 209
Marsh, Georgia, 93
Marshall, Henry, 328
Martin, Dean, and Jerry Lewis, 256
Martin, George Andre, 501
Martin, H. B*, 211
Martin & Fabrini, 45, 211
Martin Beck Theatre, 363
Martini & Maxmillian, 108
Martin's, Mrs., N.Y.C., 278
Martins, Flying, 31
Marx Bros., 147, 153, 253; Chico,
74
Marzella's Cockatoos, 163
Maskelyn, 109
Mason, John, 50, 404
Mason & Bart, 32
Mason & Keeler, 52
542
Masonic Temple Roof, Chicago, 348
Masquers Club, West Coast, 301
Massa, Nick, 500
Massine, Leonide, 494
Matchbox (restaurant), 305
Mathewson, Christy, 125
Matthews, Charlie, 223
Max & His Gang, 161
Maxim's, N.Y.C., 503
Maxim's Models, 37
May, George, 63, 220, 257, 394
May, Jackie, 90
Mayer, Arthur, 396
Mayer, Hy, 211, 486
Mayer, Lottie, 34
Mayer, Sam, 299
Mayhew, Stella, & Taylor, 229
Mayne, Clarice, 99
Mayo, Harry, 76
Mazetti Troupe, 28
M.C.s, 284, 488-489
Meade, Tommy, 84, 131
"Meanest Man in the World, The,"
51
Medlin, Watts & Towns, 80
Meehan's Leaping Dogs, 161
Meistersingers, 74
Melba, Nellie, 383-384
Melody, Honey, 123
Melrose, Bert, 29, 321
Melville & Higgins, 228
Melville & Stetson, 322
Memorial Theatre, Boston, 346
"Memories," 77
"Memory Lane," 206-207, 234
Memphis Five, Original, 72
Mende (chimp), 164
Mengen, Baron, 113
Menke, Frank C., 132
Menzeli (Girlie), 46
Mercedes, no
Meredith, E, E., 299
Meredith & Snoozer, 161
Meredith Sisters, 150
Merediths, The, 45
Merian's Pantomimic Dogs, E., 165
Merle's Cockatoos, 163
Merlin, 108
INDEX
543
Merman, Ethel, 54, 495
Merrill, Blanche, 54
Merrill, Lola, & Frank Otto, 230
Metcalf, W. L., 306
Metropole Hotel, N.Y.C., 284, 295
Metropole Saloon, N.Y.C., 412
Metropolis Roof, 242
Metropolitan Opera Co., 247-248, 384
Metropolitan Opera House, 381
Metropolitan Theatre, Los Angeles,
253
Metropolitan Vaude Exchange, 241-
242
Meyer, Ben, 33, 223
Meyerfeld, Morris, 27, 360-361
Meyers, 15
Meyers, Chief, 125
Meyers, Gene, 502
Meyers & Keller, 294
M-G-M (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer),
377
Michelina, Vera, 78
Michon, Joe & Pete, 1 54
Middleton, George, 348
Midgley, Sager, & Fanny Carlye, 230
Mignanis, Four, 223
Mignon, La Petite, 99
Miles, Young, 132
Miles Orton Circus, 22
Military Girls' Quartette, 76-77
Military Octette, 67
Miller, Eddie, 75, 79, 303; & Lou, 153
Miller, Marilyn, 147
Miller, Welsh, 109
Miller, Moore & Gardner, 80
Miller & Lyles, 83, 85, 204, 320
Miller & Mack, 90
Millers, Marvelous, 45
Millership Sisters, 150
Millie, 320
"Million Dollar Mystery" (film
serial), 247
Millman, Bird, 30
Mills Bros., 202
Mills Sisters, 204; Florence, 204, 205;
Maude, 205
Mimics, 99-104
Mind readers, no
Miner, George, 500
Minevitch, Borrah, 73
Minsky's, 382
Minstrels, 139, 201
"Miss Civilization," 51
Mitchell, Abbie, 205
Mitchell, Dan, 360
Mitchell, O. M., 115
Mitchell & Durant, 22, 487
Mitzi (Hajos), 233, 503
Mix, Torn, 22, 255
Mixed acts, 226-231; sample script,
423-427
Miyakee, 128
Mizner, Wilson, 209, 260
Mohr, Halsey, 328
Molasso, G., & Mile. Corio, 46
Monde, Ray, 90
Monkey acts, 163-164
Monologists, 170-195; sample script,
420-422
Montague, Harry, 319
Montague, Henry J., 305
Montague, Jimmy, 210
Montgomery & Moore, 229
Montgomery, Dave, 31 1; & Fred
Stone, 85, 102, 361
Montgomery, Marshall, 116
Montrose & Allen, 148, 230
Monument House, 305
Monzello, 215
Moore, Charlie, 298
Moore, Florence, 54, 101, 229, 489; &
Brother, 154
Moore, George Austin, 198
Moore, Grace, 202, 255
Moore, Tom & Stacie, 230
Moore, Victor, 298
Moore & Young, 95
Mora, Helena, 202
Mora, J. Jerome, 109
Moran, Eddie, 328, 497
Moran, Polly, 280
Moran & Mack, "The Two Black
Crows," 84, 102, 320
Moran & Weiser, 26, 137
Morehouse, Ward, 209, 210
Moreland, George L,, 126
INDEX
Morgan, 126
Morgan, Helen, 54, 102, 254
MorrelI,Ed,2i8
Morris, elevator man at Palace, 486
Morris, Elida, 60
Morris, Ella, 116
Morris, Lillian, 134
Morris, Mel, 328
Morris, Vic, 248, 502
Morris, William, 34, 63, 133, 138,
222, 233, 243, 345, 396, 398-399;
biography of, 370-374
Morris, William, Jr., 373-374
Morris & Allen, 86, 223
Morris & Campbell, 230
Morrisey, Will, 198, 231, 233, 499
Morrison, Alec, 1 29
Morrison, Charlie, 489
Morrison's Rockaway Theatre, 201
Morrissini's Leaping Wolfhounds,
Stella, 161
Morton, Clara, 43, 60
Morton, James C., 182, 336; & Fam-
ily. M7
Morton, James J., 135, 182-183, 199,
242, 268, 294, 295, 311, 488-489
Morton, Paul, and Naomi Glass, 44
Morton, Sam, 269, 311; & Kitty, 47;
and children, 147
Morton & Jewell Troupe, 24
Morton & Revell, 227
Morton House, N.Y.C., 18, 399
Mosconi Bros., 90, 492-493; Louis, 46,
3°3
Mosconi Family, 136, 147
Moscowitz, Charlie, 502
Moss & Brill, 247
Moss & Fontana, 45
Moss & Frye, 83, 205
Mothers, stage, 145-146
Moulin, Les Kiners, 26
Moulton, Roy K., 209
Mt. Morris Theatre, Harlem, 240
Mountford, Harry, 312-313
Mountford's, N.Y.C., 278
Mo watts, Five, 24
Moxey (bear), 164
Mozart Circuit, 312
544
Mozarts, The, 224
"Mrs. Murphy's Second Husband," 52
Muckenfuss, B. S., 127
Mudge, Eva, 94
Muelbach Hotel, Kansas City, 178-
179
Muldoon and pony, 165
Mundorf, Harry, 485
Mimroe, George, 89, 198
Munroe's People's Theatre, George,
Salt Lake City, 14
Munyon, Mrs. Dr., 217
Murdock, J. J., 36-37, 346; biography
of, 348-353
Murphy (Biagio Velluzzi), Lambs'
bootblack, 309-310
Murphy, Bob, 497
Murphy, Frank, 179
Murphy, George P., 298
Murphy, J. H., 211
Murphy, Mark, 311; Mr. and Mrs.,
52,127
Murphy, "Senator," 192
Murphy & Francis, 205
Murray, Elizabeth, 59, 135
Murray, Ken, 198, 489; & Charlotte,
230
Murray, Mae, 45
Murray's Restaurant, 119
Museums, 12, 16, 238, 337
Music Hall, Buffalo, 412-413
Music Master, The, 100
Musical acts, 63-74, 319~322> sample
dialogue, 480; see also Singing acts
Musicians, 60-63; see also Accompa-
nists
Musties club, 300
"My Wife's Diamonds/' 97
Myrick, Hartley Claude, 325
Myrio, 46
Nadradge, Richard, 114
Nagel, Conrad, 21
Napierkowska, La, 487
INDEX
Nardini, Countess, 69
Nash, George, 51
Nash, Jolly, 322
Nash, Phil, 398-399
Nathal, 218
Nathan, George Jean, 210
Nathano Bros., 32
Nathan's Circus, John J., 333
National Theatre, Bronx, 245, 377
National Theatre, Cincinnati, 10
National Theatre, San Francisco, 242
National Vaudeville Artists, 314-317
Nationality, portrayals of, 81-82
"Naughty Princess," 236
Nawn, Tom & Hattie, 50, 52
Nazimova, 51
Needham & Kelly, 47
Neff, Johnny, 186; & Carrie Starr, 230
Negro performers, 201-207
Neiland, Mickey, 72
Neiman, Hal, 198
Nellis, Daisy, 68
Nelson, Bert, and His Lioness, Prin-
cess Pat, 157
Nelson, Frank, 14
Nelson, Grace, 79
Nelson, H. M., 25
Nelson, Mark, 394
Nelson Troupe, Nicholas, 33
Nelson's Cats, 167
Nemo Theatre, N.Y.C., 245
Neptune Garden, 37
Nervo & Knox, 484
Nesbit, Evelyn, 135, 390-391; and
Jack Clifford, 45, 391
Neuman, 25
"New Coachman, The/' 294
New Orpheum Theatre, Boston, 248
New York Ch>£er, 6, 37
New York Morning Telegraph, 209
New York Newsboy's Quartette, 76
New York Star, 316
New York Theatre, 382
New York Theatre Roof, 373, 382
New York Times, 309
Newell & Shevett, 32
Newhoff & Phelps, 230
545
Newspapermen, as press agents and
producers, 210; as script writers,
209-210; in vaudeville, 211-213
Niblo, Fred, 136, 177
Nicholl Sisters, 149
Nichols, Caroline B., 67, 344
Nickelodeons, 238-239, 376
NickolatCo., 238
Nigger Mike's, N.Y.C., 13
"Night at the Club," 77
"Night on a Houseboat," 232
"Nights with the Poets," 77
Niris, Fatima, 98
Nixon Palace Gardens, N.Y.C., 333
Nobel, Car, 114, 116
Noble, Lieutenant, 114
Noblette, Irene, 230
Nonette, 69
Nora Bayes Roof, 58
Nordstrom, Marie, 59
Norman, Karyl, 89
Normans, Juggling, 24
Norris, Mr., 410
Norris' Baboons, 163
North, Bobby, 198
North, Meyer, 412
Norton, Alier, 216
Norton, Jack, 84; & Lucille Haley, 230
Norton, Nick, & Billy Emmett, 319
Norton, Ruby, 54, 79, 396
Norton & Russell, 98
Norwood, Adelaide, 78
Norworth, Jack, 56, 57, 80, 101, 136,
141, 198, 261, 309, 324, 328, 501;
and Nora Bayes, 109-110, 251
"Not Yet, Marie," 234
Novelty Theatre, Brooklyn, 355
Nowman, Andy, 123
N.T.G. See Nils T. Granlund
Nugent, Elliott, 180
Nugent, J. C., 49, 180-181, 3125 and
family, 148
"Nurses," 232
Nut acts, 199-200
N.VA See National Vaudeville Art-
ists
Nye, Bill, 211
INDEX
o
Oakland, Will, 496
Oakland Sisters, 150
Oakley, ''Slivers/' 29
O'Brien, Arthur, 322
O'Brien, James, 205
O'Brien, Neil, 84, 88, 142
O'Brien, Philadelphia Jack, 122
O'Brien, Tom "Buck," 125
O'Brien's, Mother, Philadephia, 281
Occidental Hotel, Washington, 281
Ochs, Al, 195
O'Connor, Charles, 43, 56
O'Connor, Massian, 11
O'Connor Twins, 150
Odd acts, 214-225
O'Dell, Del, 106
O'Dell, Maude, 37
Odiva, 34
"Oh, Doctor," 236
O'Hara, Geoffrey, 76
O'Hara, Neal, 209
O'Hearn (cleaner), 502
Okita family, 109
Olcott, Chauncey, 77, 307
"Old Homestead, The," 12
Old Homestead Double Quartette, 77
"Old New York/' 51
Old Soldier Fiddlers, 67-68
Old Time Darkies, 206
Olins, Johnnie & Nellie, 109
Olmstead Hotel, Cleveland, 281
Olsen, George, 72
Olsen & Johnson, 82, 85, 256, 301
Olympia (New York) Theatre,
N.Y.C., 382
Olympic, San Francisco, 1 5
Olympic Club, San Francisco, 119
Olympic Theatre, Chicago, 348
O'Mearas, Gliding, 39, 45
O'Meer Sisters, 151
Onaip, 68
101 Ranch, 255
i25th Street Theatre (Columbia),
Harlem, 367, 368, 382
"One Touch of Nature/' 50
545
O'Neill, Eugene, 210, 280
O'Neill, James, 293
O'Neill, Kitty, 319
O'Neill, Nance, 51
Onkui, Harnko, 79
"Only Girl, The/' 236
Orchestras, 62-63, 72-73
Organizations, 292-317
O'Rourke, Stephen, 79
Orpheum Circuit, 63, 70, 89, 243,
248, 249, 349, 360-363, 401, 482
Orpheum Theatre, Brookyn, 356-357
Orpheum Theatre, St. Louis, 249
Orpheum Theatre, San Francisco, 27,
356, 360
Orpheus Four, 76
Orth, Frank, & Ann Codec, 22, 136,
229
Orth & Fern, 86
Osborn, Will, 72
O'Shea, Helen, 487
Osterman, Jackie, 502
Otto Bros., 83, 85, 152
Oucault, Richard F., 211
Oursler, Fulton, 105, 210
Over There Theatre League, 485
"Overseas Revue," 233
Packard, Mrs, Beaumont, 298
Page, Will, 295,486
Palace Hotel, N.Y.C., 279
Palace Theatre, Cleveland, 346
Palace Theatre, New Haven, 398
Palace Theatre, N.Y.C., 362-363, 481-
498; opening and closing bills, 486-
488
Palais Royal, N.Y.C,, 503
Palenburg's Bears, 163
Palmer, Bee, 42, 102
Palmer, Jay, & Doreen, 109
Palmer, Minnie, 147, 232, 23 3, 235
Palmer Estate, 279-280
Pan (magazine), 189
INDEX
547
Pantages, Alexander, 237, 243, 345,
401-403
Pantages, Rodney, 403
Papka, Toots, 70, 323
Paradise Roof, 388
Pardo, Al, 327
Paresis Hall, N.Y.C., 13
Paris, George, Jr., 213
Park Theatre, Brooklyn, 335
Parker, Dorothy, 5, 209
Parker, Flora, 148
Parker, Prof. Harry, 161
"Parlor Match, A," 12
Parlor Theatre, Duluth, 15-16
Parody singers, sample script, 474-478
Parry, Charlotte, 97
"Parsifala," 233
Passpart, W., 360
Pastor, Tony, 286; biography of, 333-
337
Pastor's Fourteenth Street Theatre,
N.Y.C., 61-62, 240, 335-336
Pastor's Opera House, N.Y.C., 16-17,
334
Paterson, Nan, 387
Path6 Pictures, 352-353
Patricola, Isabella, 59, 69
Patti, Alex, & Brother, 30, 152
Patti, The Black (Sissieretta Jones),
79, 205
Pauline, 111, 135
Pearl, Jack, 86
Pearl, Kathryn & Violet, 127
Pearl, Tony, 84
Pearson Bros., 153
Pebble, Dwight, 235
Peddler, The, 178
Pclham, 111
Pemberton, Brock, 210
Penncr, Joe, 254
Penny arcades, 375
Peonys Club, 301
People's Vaude Circuit, 142
People's Vaudeville Theatre, Harlem,
238-239
Peppino, 69
Perip, Dr. Carl L., 217
Perkins, Eli, 211
Perry & Bolger, 64
Perry Brothers' Club Theatre, Los
Angeles, 15
Personal appearances of film stars,
247; sample dialogue, 481
"Pest House, The," 22, 51
Peter the Great (chimp), 164
Peterson, Charles C., 131
Petite Cabarette, La, 117
Pettifs, Mother, Richmond, Va., 284
Petty's Puppets, 117
Philippart, Marcel & Rene, 216
Phillips, GofT, 122
Phillips, H. I., 209, 213
Phillips, Joe, 84
Phillips, Mr. and Mrs. Norman, and
Jr., 148
Phillips, Tom, 234
Phina & Her Picks, 56
Photo Players Club, Los Angeles, 300
Piano players, 61-62, 68, 73-74, 321;
see also Accompanists
Pianophiends, 67
Piazza, Ben, 414
Pickaninnies, 56, 203
Pickens, Polly, 280
Pickett, Mrs. LaSalle Corbell, 220-221
Pickford, Mary, 138, 145, 252
Picon, Molly, 54, 492, 501
Pie Alley Strip, Boston, 286
Pierce, Carrol, 486
Pierce, Florence, 212
Piermont, Ben, 240
Piermont, Sydney, 502
Pietro, 69
Pilccr, Elsie & Harry, 154, 385
Piker & Douglas, 46
Filling's Museum, Boston, 16
Pinkunelly, Charlie, 13
"Pinochle Fiends, The," 141
Pinsker, Sammy, 309, 310
Pinto, Effingham, 308
Pippin, Eugene, 99
Pisano, General, 35
Pisano & Bingham, 230
Pistel & Gushing, 142
Pitnof, Rose, 34
Placide & Martin, 318
INDEX
548
Plant, Phil, 122
Player, The, White Rats' magazine,
312-313
Players Club, 294
Pleasure Palace, N.Y.C., 367
Plimmer, Walter, Sr. and Jr., 241
Plunkett, Joe7 295
Polaire, Mile., 389
Polgar, 1 1 1
Poli, P. Alonzo, 400
Poli, Sylvester Z., 397-400
Police Gazette, 43
Polk & Collins, 64
Pollack, John, 210, 388
Pollack, Lew, 59, 327, 328
Pollard (juggler), 25
Pollard, Daphne, 46, 59, 484
Pollock, Channing, 209, 210, 295, 388
Pollock, John, 486
Pollock, Milton, & Co., 487
Ponselle, Rosa and Carmella, 78, 150,
413-414
Poole Bros., 320
Pope, Charlie, 296-297
Potsdam, Charlie, 502
Powell, Walter, 497
Powers, in
Powers' Elephants, 158-160
Prelle's Ventriloquial Dogs, Charlie,
115
Press agents, 210
Press Agent's Association, 295
Press! er, Slim, 327
Prestige, Fanny, 1 5
"Prevarication," 51
Prevost, Eddie and Howard, 29
Prevost & Brown, 21
Price, E. D., 209, 274
Price, Georgie, 99, 101, 102, 198, 232,
489,493
Price's Place, Pleasure Bay, 304
Preisser, June and Cherry, 150, 496
Primrose, George, 47, 323
Primrose & West, 201
Primrose Four, 76
Prince, Arthur, 113-114, 133, 484
Prince, Don, 486
Princeton Hotel, N.Y.C., 280
Priscilla, The Great, 1 1 1
Prizefighters, 119-124
Proctor, F. F., 22, 78, 336, 340, 405;
biography of, 365-370
Proscauer, Julius, 105
Proske's Tigers, Captain, 157
Protean acts, 96-98
Prout, Eva, 94
Pryor's Band, Arthur, 70, 248
Puck, Eva, 43; Harry &, 154, 230
Pull, Prof. Theo, 111
"Pullman Porter Maids," 232
Purcell, Charles, 79
Purcella & Orbin, 43
Purcella Bros., 43, 153
Quaker City Four, 76
Quartettes, 75-77, 319, 321
Queen, Frank, 404
Quick, Mr., 213
Quick-change acts, 96-98
"Quiet Evening at Home, A/' 97
Quinland, Dan, & Kellar Mack (later
Richards), 83, 141
Quiroga, Manuel, 69
Radio City Music Hall, 364
Radio Corp. of America, 482
Raft, George, 46
Rag-picture artists, 212
Ragtime music, 61-62
Rainey, Ma, 205
Rajah, Princess, 40, 259, 392, 396
Ralfaely, Ralph, 212
Rambeau, Marjorie, 51, 379
Ramblers Club, 301-302
Rameses, 109
Ramon & Rosita, 45
Rand, Sally, 46, 254, 490
Randall, Lew, 321
INDEX
549
Randall, Sally, 212
Randalls, The, 35
Ranldn, Doris, 51
Rankin, McKee, 51
Rankins, Three, 320
Ransom, John W., 10
Rapee, Erno, 68
Raquel, 24
Rasch, Albertina, 362, 488
Rastalli, 26
Rath Brothers, 21 , 31, 153
Rathskeller acts, 79-80
Rawls & Von Kaufman, 142
Rawson & Claire, 230
Rawson & June, 34
Ray, John, 15
Ray, Johnny, 256
Raya Sisters, 496
Raye, Martha, 46, 231
Raymond, Babe, 52
Raymond, Edith, 383
Raymond, The Great, 112
Raymond & Cavalry, 83, 85
Raymond & O'Connor, 230
Raymond Sisters, 319
Readings, Four, 31
Rebla, 26
"Reckless Eve," 236
Redding, Francesca, 50, 404
"Redheads," 232
Redmond, Jack, 129
Reed, Florence, 51
Reeder & Armstrong, 323
"Reel Guys/' 234
Reeve, Ada, 1 34, 484
Reeves, Miss Bird, 222
Regan, Joe, 79
Reichenbach, Harry, 210
Reilly, Larry, 1 50
ReiUy's, Newark, 281
Reillys, Three, 154
Reis Bros,, 153
Reisenweber's, N.Y.C., 503
Remenyi, Edouard, 404
Remington, Frederic, 306
Remington, Mayme, & Her Black Bus-
ter Browny Ethiopian Prodiges, 56
Remington Hotel, N.Y.C., 280
Rempel, Bessie & Harriet, 151
Renaud, Andre, 68
Renault, Frances, 92-93
Republic, S.S., 217
Republic Theatre, N.Y.C., 382, 388
Reuschling, 107
Revel, Maude, 182
Revell, Nellie, 210, 388
Revere House, Chicago, 281
"Reveries," 98
Rex Comedy Circus, 161
Rexford Hotel, Boston, 283-284
Reynard, Ed, 113, 114
Reynolds, Earl, & Nellie Donegam, 32
Reynolds, Helene, 497
Rheinhart, Louis, 63
Rhinehart, Baby, 320
Rhinelander's Pigs, 167
Rhoade's Marionettes, 117
Rialto Theatre, 396
Riano, Renee, 46
Rianos, Three, 29, 148
Ricardo, Irene, 60, 229
Rice, Andy, 177-178, 231
Rice, Ed C., 201
Rice, Gitz, 327, 328; and Hal Ford,
35
Rice, John C., & Sally Cohen, 51
Rice, William Henry, 88, 320
Rice, Scully & Scott, 32
Rice and Prevost, 29
Rice Bros., 153
Rice's garage, Freeport, L.I., 298
Rich, Mrs. Freddie, 497
Richards (Bennett & Richards) , 46
Richards, Chris, 1 34
Richards, George, 88
Richards, The Great, 89
Richardson, Lady Constance Stewart,
135
Richcnbach, Harry, 302
Richman, Harry, 198, 318, 328, 489,
49 1
Richmond, Harry G., 322
Richmond & Glenroy, 193, 227
Richmond Hotel, Boston, 286
INDEX
Rickey, Sam7 319
Ridges, Stanley, 308
Rigby, Arthur, 188
Riggs and Witchie, 45, 136
Rigoletto Bros., 153
Riley, James Whitcomb, 211
Rillow, 217-218
Rin-Tin-Tin (dog), 161
Rinaldo, 69, 137
Ring, Blanche, 54, 101, 151, 251
Ring, Julia7 151
"Rings of Smoke," 233
Ripa, Bob, 26
Ripon, Alf> 114
Ritz Bros., 44, 153-154
River's Melodeon, Philadelphia, 333
Rivoli, Caesar, 98
RKO (Radio-Keith-Orpheum Cir-
cuit), 364, 401, 482
Roamin, 32-53
Rob Roy, 124
Roberts (Arlington Comedy Four),
76
Roberts, Benny, 63, 94, 486
Roberts, R. A., 97, 133
Robertus & Wildreds, 26
Robey, George, 138, 252
Robinson, Bill "Bojangles," 44, 102,
198, 204, 318
Robinson, Herman, 246
Robinson, J. Russell, 327
Robinson Show, 295
Rochez, Maude, 1 66
Rock, William, & Maude Fulton, 46
Rock & Fulton, 135
Rockwell, Doc, 86, 185-186; & Al
Wood, 85
Rodgers, Richard, 381
Roesch, Edward, 244
Roesdies, Murray, 486
Roesner (organist), 62
Roesner, George, 1 89
Roger Bros,, 83, 85, 153
Rogers, Allan, 79, 323
Rogers, Charles, & Mattie Vickers, 50,
320
Rogers, Elmer, 486
550
Rogers, Frank, 114, 205
Rogers, Harry, 403
Rogers, Will, 36, 102, 138, 194-195,
214, 252, 259, 285, 396
Rolfe, B. A., 67,232
Rolfe's Ten Dark Knights, 205
Roller skating, 32
Rolphonians, The, 67
Roma, Ross, 69
Romaine, Claire, 94
Romaine, Manuel, 79
Romanoff, Mike, 222, 496-497
Rome & Dunn, 80
Rome & Gault, 86
Rooming houses, 278-286
Rooney, Julia & Josie, 150
Rooney, Mickey, 145
Rooney, Pat, Sr., 47, 102, 123, 132,
148, 198, 319; & Marion Bent, 43,
233
Rooney, Pat, Jr., 102, 148
Roosevelt, Theodore, 101, 391
Root & Dorlon, 1 30
Root & Fogler, 130
Roping acts, 36
Rose, Billy, 235, 272
Rose, Harry, 199
Rose, Jack, 199
Rose, Julian, 136, 180
Rose & Moon, 43
Rosen, Al, 500
Rosenblatt, Cantor Joseph, 79, 222-
223
Rosenbloom, Slapsie Maxie, 119, 123
Roser's Aerial Dogs, 161
Rosini, Carl, 106, 107
RosofFs Restaurant, 271, 284
Ross, Barney, 123
Ross, Blackface Eddie, 64, 198
Ross, Dave, & Nat Bernard, 86
Ross & Edwards, 488
Rossi's Musical Horse, 165
Roth, Lillian & Ann, 150
Rowland, Adele, 59
Rowland, Ed, 299
Rowley, Sam, 224
Roxy (S. L. Rothafel), 247, 364
INDEX
551
Roxy Ballet, 494
Roxy Theatre, 383, 410
Royal, Alf, & His Dog, 161
Roya, John, 185, 409
Royal Jiujitsu Troupe, 128
Royal Polo Team, 31
Royal Theatre, Brooklyn, 377
Roye, Ruth, 59 , 492
Rube comics, 178
"Rubeville," 233
Rubin, Benny, 122, 131, 489; & May
Usher, 229
Rubin, J. Robert, 105
Rubini Sisters, Four, 77
RubinofT, 254
Ruby, Harry, 303
Ruby, Jules, 368
Rucker & Winifred, 205
Rudinoff, 213
Rudolph, Dick, 126
Ruegger, Elsa, 68
Rugel, Yvette, 54, 79, 234, 484
Rule, Jimmy, 126
Rumsey, John W., 295
Runyon, Damon, 209
Rupperts Brewery, 385
Rush Ling Toy, 1 07
Russell, Dorothy, 94
Russel, Fred, 113
Russell, Lillian, 53, 79, 94, 248, 255
Russell, Marie, 59
Russell, Winfrey B., 236
Russell Brothers, 85, 88-89, 154
Russen, Wynn &, 84
Russo, Dan, 63
Ruth, Babe, 126
Rutt& Clark, 130
Rutt&Stoll, 130
Ryan, Ben, 43, 231
Ryan, Maude, 229-230
Ryan, Sam, 31 ij & Tom Lewis, 179
Ryan & Lee, 228, 229
Ryan and Noblette, 230
Ryan & RitcMeld, 49, 51
Ryan & Ryan, 320
Ryman, Ad, 319
Rynland, John, 385
Ryskind, Morris, 209
St. Cloud Hotel, Philadelphia, 2!*
St. Denis, Ruth, 41, 392
St. James Hotel, N.Y.C., 280
St.KildaHotel,N.Y.C.,28o
St. Leon, Ida, 160
St. Leon, Lillian, 160
St. Leon Troupe, George, u6o
St. Onge, Fred, & Co., 31
Sakatells, The, 32
Salaci Marionettes, 117
Salaries, 245-246, 250-257
Sale, Charles "Chic," 181-182
Salerno, 24
Sales, Corinne, 229
Salisbury & Benny, 190
Salmon, Patricia, 221
Salom6 dance, 41-42, 391-392
Saloons, entertainment in, 10-12; see
also Honky-tonks
Salval, 108
Sam 'n' Henry, 142
Samelson, Louis, 500
Samuels, Arthur, 327
Samuels, Rae, 54, 328
Sand painting acts, 212
Sandford & Wilson, 319
Sandier, Bernard H., 275
Sandor, Paul, 113
Sandow, 33, 118, 120
Santley, Joe, 308, 328
Santrey, Henry, & His Band, 71
Santucci, 69
Saona, 90, 103, 383
Santoy, Tillie, 94
Santry, Henry, & Band, 487
Sapperstein, David, 69
Saranoff, Jules, 13,69
Saratoga Hotel, Chicago, 281, 283
Sarazen, Gene, 1 29
Sargent, Epes W. (Chicot), 274, 340,
344, 347, 368; introduction by, 417-
420
Sargent's Great Vaudeville Co,, 10
Sarnoff, Gen. David, 482
Sartello, 212
INDEX
Sato, O. K., 137
Sannders, Gertrude, 204
Savo, Jimmy, 21
Savoy, Bert, & Jay Brennan, 83, 85, 89,
^0,492
Sawyer, Joan, & John Jarrott, 45
fccton, Josephine, and Her Four
Picks, 56
Saxton, Pauline & Marie, 152
Scandals, George White's, 86
Schacht, Al, 101, 127-128
SchafTer, Germany, 127
Schaffer, Sylvester, 24-25, 492
Scheff, Fritzi, 54, 57, 78, 101, 484
Schenclc, Joe, 58, So, 239, 242, 376,
379> 502
Scbenck, Marvin, 379, 502
Schenck, Nick, 376
Schiller Vaudeville Co., 360
Schilzonyi, 345
Schindler, Paul, 63, 486
Schlam, Herr, 63-64
Schmidt, Arthur, 502
Schmidt's saloon, 269-270
Schneebe, Allan, 394
Schneider, Adolph, 389-390
Scholder, Helen, 69
School act, sample script, 427-431
"School Boys & Girls/' 232
Schooler, Dave, 68
Schriber, Lillian, 95
Schroeder, George, 218
Schroeder's, Mother, Washington,
281
Schumann-Heink, Madame, 78
Schwartz, Jean, 327
Schwartz Bros., 153
Schwartzwald, Milton, 486
Scictler's Manikins, 223
Scollay Square Theatre, Boston, 247,
3M
Scott, Carrie, 'The Bowery Girl," 56
Scott, Leon, 318
Scott, Malcolm, 41, 90
Scott, Mike, 47
Scotti, Henry, 78
Screen Club, 280
552
"Sea Wolf/' 50
Sebastian, Carlos, & Dorothy Bentley,
45
"Second Ash Tray/' 51
Seebacks, The, 33
Seed & Austin, 86
Seeley, Blossom, 54, 125, 324
Seeley, Herbert, 41
Sefton, Harry, 323
Selbini, The Great Lala, 106
Selbo, 26
Seldon's Living Pictures, Three, 37
Seldon's Venus, 37
"Self Defence/1 50
"Self-Judged/' 98
Sells-Flo to Circus, 210
"Seminary Mary/' 234
Semon, Lawrence, 213
Senna, Clarence, 328
Sennett, Mack, 280
Sepia, Timmy & Freddy, 497
Service, Robert W., "Spell of the
Yukon/' 325
Sessukikima, 218
Seventh Avenue Theatre, N.Y.C., 245
Seville, Charlie, 327
Seymour, Harry & Ann, 71
Seymour, Katie, 321
Seymour & Dupree, 29, 223
Shadowgraph acts, 111-112
Shanberger, Fred, 281
Shanley & Furness, 282
Shanley's Cafe* de Paris, N.Y.C., 503
Shapiro, Ted, 59, 327, 329
Sharkey, Geisler & Lewis, 80
Sharkey, Torn, 121
Sharp Bros., 153
Sharpley, Sam, 334
Sharpshooters, 35-36
Sharrocks, The, no
Shattuck, Truly, 59, 94
Shaw, Mrs. Alice, 406
Shaw? Allan, 108
Shaw, Lillian, 54, 501
Shaw, Robert Gould, 299
SKaw & Lee, 82, 85
Shea, Jerry, 413
INDEX
553
Shea, Mike, 27, 412-414
Shean7 Al, 76, 233; & James Carson,
84; Gallagher &, 83; & Warren, 84
Sheedy, M. R,, 240
Shenandoah, 210
Shephards, The, 36
Sheridan, Mark, 134
Sheridan & Mack, 319
Sherman, Robert, 235, 299
Sherman, Sadie, 125
Sherman, Van & Hyman (later Tier-
ney)7 80
Sherman Hotel, Chicago, 281
Sherwood, Robert, 210
Sherwood's Mascot, Galveston, 15
Shield & Rogers, 36
Shields, Ella, 94, 484
Shields, Ren, 49, 130, 231
Shindler's Theatre, Chicago, 244
Shipman, Sam, 49
Shrader, Frederick F., 295
Shrapnel Dodgers, The, 221
Shubert brothers, 101, 252, 372
Shuffle Along, 204-205
Siamese twins, 152, 225
Siddons Brothers, 153
Siegel, Al, 327, 328
"Sign of the Rose," 51, 101
Sigrist Family, 322
Sill, William Raymond, 486
Silver, Abner, 328
Silverman,, Sid, Sr.r 152
Silverman, Sid, Jr., 152
Silverman, Sime, 134, 313, 352, 379
Silvers, Mrs. 278-279
Silvers, Lou, 328
Silverstein, Meyer, 105
Sim, Colonel, 335
Sime. See Sime Silverman
Similete Sisters, 151
Simmons, Edward, 306
Simms, Wiilard, 51
Simon, Louis, 294
Simon, Mike, 217, 269, 394
Simon, Seymour, 326
Simpson, F, P., 299
Simpson, Grant, 52, 148
Sims, Rouble, 212
Sinatra, Frank, 255
Sinclair, Frank, 234
Singer, Mort, 235
Singer Midgets, 252, 271-272
Singing acts, 74-80, 319-324;
tion for, 480
Single man act, 195-200; see <ds&
Monologists
Single woman act, 53-60
Sirota, 79
Sisk, Bob, 210
Sissle, Noble, 205
Sister acts, 148-152, 319
Six American Dancers, 43
Six Water Lillies, 34
"Six Winning Widows," 233
Skating acts, 32-33
Skelly, Hal, 47
Sketch, 47-53, 319, 320, 404; sample
scripts, 433'438> 465-469
Slate Bros., Three, 44, 1 54
Slater, Ralph, 1 1 a
Sloan, Blanche, 131
Sloan, Tod, 130-131
Small Bros., Four, 44, 1 54, 494
Small-time vaudeville, 237-249, 50®
Smith, Allison, 210
Smith, Ben, 125, 142
Smith, Bessie, 205
Smith, Drake V., 105
Smith, Ed, & Campbell, 83, 86
Smith, Gene, 212
Smith, George Totten, 49, 127
Smith, Joe, & Charlie Dale, 75, 82, §3,
85,136
Smith, Kate, 54, 254, 492, 495
Smith, Mamie, 205
Smith, Paul G., 49, 231
Smith, Sammy, 128
Smith, Sidney, 211
Smith, Tom, 47
Smith & Waldron, 321
Smith's, Portland, Ore., 281
Smith's Caf£, Coney Island, 391
Snodgrass, 218
Snyder & Buckley, 66
Sobol, Louis, 213, 496
Soar, Willie, 47
INDEX
Solomon, Ted, 94
Somerset Hotel, N.Y.C., 279
Soncrant, Brothers, 31
Song-and-dance acts, 38-47
Sousa, John Philip, 71,165
Southern, E. H., 485
Southern, Jean, 94
"Span of Life/' 30
Spangler, Jack & Kay, 154
Sparrow, magician, 109
Sparrow, "The Mad Juggler/' 25
Sparrow's, Baltimore, 281
"Speaking to Father," 487
Spears, Robert, 209
Specht, Paul, 72
Specht's Lady Serenaders, 68
Specialist, The (book), 182
Spencer, Lew, 319
Spencer's, N.Y.C., 13
Spessardy's Bears, 163
Spewack, Bella and Samuel, 210
Spiegel & Dunn, 142
Spillers, Five Musical, 69
Spink's Sporting News, 121
Spook Minstrels, 77, 217
Sprague & McNeese, 32
Squaw Man, The, 308
Stafford, Frank, 161; & Dog, 37
Stafford, Mary, 205
Stage mothers, 145-146
Stair dancing, 44
Stalag 1 7, 308
Staley & Birbeck, 67
Stallings, George, 126
Stallings, Lawrence, 209
Stamm, Orville, 33
Stamper, Dave, 261-262, 327
Standard Oil of New Jersey, 254
Stanley, Aileen, 54, 323
Stanley, Johnny, 100, 232, 257, 295;
& Stella Tracy, 230
Stanley, Stan, 22
Stanton, Mile. (Babe), no
Stanton, Hugh, 50, 404
Stanton, Val & Ernie, 83, 153
Stanwyck, Barbara, 496
State-Lake Theatre, Chicago, 248
554
State Theatre, N.Y.C., 249, 379-380,
499-503
Stebbens, Si & Mary, 108
Steck, Olga, 79
Stedman, Al & Fanny, 154, 229
Steel, John, 79
Steel & Winslow, 32
Steel Pier, Atlantic City, 22
Steger, Julius, 51
Steiger, Jimmy, 328
Steiner, Doc, 386-387
Stenard, Jake, 349
Stepp, Allmann & King, 80
Stepp, Mehlinger & King, 80
Sterling Opera House, Derby, Conn.,
159-160
Stern, Jack, 327
Stetson, John, 335
Stevaro, Frederick, 107
Stevens, Hal, 98
Stevens, Josephine, 205
Stevens & Hollister, 52
Stewart, Alice, 229
Stewart Sisters, 150
Stickney, Robert, 43, 224
Stoddard, Harry, 72
Stoddard, Marie, 60, 136, 229
Stokes, W. E. D., 387
Stone, Arthur, 68; & Marion Hayes,
230
Stone, Dorothy, and Charles Collins,
45
Stone, Fred, 46, 85, 132, 311
Stone, Harvey, 185
Stone, Marie, 161
Story, Belle, 79
Storytellers, 198-199; sample script,
431-433
Straight, Charie, 328
Straight men, 83
Strand Theatre, N.Y.C., 375
Street, Gabby, 127
Stribling, Young, 121
Strollers Club, Chicago, 299
Strong-man acts, 33-34
Stroud, Claude & Clarence, 85, 153
Stuart, "The Male Patti/' 89
INDEX
555
Stuart, Nick, 496
Stuart & Lash, 87, 496
Stump speech, 187-188; sample script,
438-440
Subers, Emil, 142
"Suffragette Revue," 236
"Suffragettes, The/' 235
Sullivan, Ed, 213
Sullivan, Jack Texas, 3 5
Sullivan, John L., 1 18, 119, 120
Sullivan, Mae, 388
Sullivan, Mike 'Twin/' 122
Sullivan, Timothy D., & John Consi-
dine, 237, 243, 378, 401, 411-412
Sullivan, Woods & Kraus, 41 1
Sully, Eva, 229
Sully & Houghton, 147, 230
Sully & Nealey, 321
Sully & Thomas, 147, 230
Sully Family, 147
Sumo, 128
Sun, Gus, 22, 235, 237, 349, 407-409
Sun Bros. Circus, 407
"Sunflower Girl," 232
"Sunny Side of Broadway," 235
Suratt, Velaska, 41, 232, 233
Suttong, George, 131
Svengali (dog), 161
Svengali, Modern, no, 111
Swain, Sam & Carrie, 227, 320
Swain's Alligators, 164
Swain's Cats and Rats, 166, 219
Swain's Cockatoos, 163
Swan, Bill, 234
Swedish American Quartette, 76
Sweet, George, 73
Swerling, Jo, 209
Swerling, Ruby, 63, 500
Swetman, Wilbur, 67, 204
Swift, George, 26
Swifts, Three, 24, 137
Swirsky, Countess, 393
Swor, Bert, 84, 88, 142, 191, 263-264
Swor, John, & West Avery, 142
Swor £ Mack, 142, 191
Swor Brothers, 15, 153
Sylvania Hotel, Philadelphia, 281
Sylvester, 212
Sylvester, Bob, 486
Sylvester, Jones & Pringle, 79
Sylvia, Mme. Marguerite, 78
Taberski, Frank, 131
Tabloid musical comedies, 234-237
Tabor & Green, 205
Tabor Grand Theatre, Denver, 343
Taciano, 90
Tad, 211, 280
Tahar, Sie, 490
Taliaferro, Edith & Mabel, 151
Tallman, Fred, 131
Tally, 76
Talma, Mile., 106, 108
Talmadge, Richard, 28
Tanguay, Eva, 41, 53, 57, 58-59, 101,
103, 249, 251, 280, 327, 371, 377,
420,493,501,503
Tank acts, 34-3 5, 320
Tannen, Julius, 100, 176-177, 489
Tarzan, 218
Taub, Sam, 240
Taylor, Henry & Alice, 35
Taylor, Kranzman & White, 80
TB sanatorium at Saranac Lake, 316,
373
Ted Lewis Club, N.Y.C., 503
"Tell Him What I Did to Philadel-
phia Jack O'Brien," 51
Tellegen, Lou, 51
Tempest & Sunshine, 95, 150
Ternpleton, Fay, 59
Templeton Bros., Mercer and Jimmy,
36> *54
Tennessee Ten, 204, 205
Tennis players, 130
"Tenth Commandment/' 51
Terns, Norma, 54
Terris, Tom, 271
Terry, Ethelind, 496
Terry, Kate & Ellen, 151
Terry & Lambert, 137
Terry Twins, 153
INDEX
'Test, The," 51
Tetrazzmi, Luisa, 151, 384
THAT Quartette, 76, 138
THAT OTHER Quartette, 76
Thatcher, Charlie, 321
Thatcher, George, 142
Thaw, Harry, 391
THE Quartette, 76
Thermos, 217
Thespians, 301
Thetron, St. Ferdinan, 35
Thielan Time, 349
THIS Quartette, 76
Tholen, Herr, 321
Thomas, Augustus, 210
Thomas, John Charles, 78
Thomas Quintette, Norman, 205
Thomas's, Mother, Boston, 286
Thompson, Denman, 12, 251
Thompson, Eph, 203
Thompson, Frank, 486
Thompson, Harry, 186
Thompson, Johnny, "The Lively
Moke,'* 64
Thompson, U. S., 204
Thompson, Dr. W, B., 220
Thompson and Dundy, 357
Thomson, Freddie, 224-225
Thora, 89
Thorne, Mr. and Mrs. Harry, 319
Thornton, Bonnie, 53, 227, 265-266
Thornton, James J., 175, 202, 227,
265-266, 398
Thornton, Kate, 265-266
Three Athletas, 22, 151
Three Whirlwinds, 32
Thriller, Harry, 31
Thurston, Howard, 107
Tiffany, Maude, 137
Tighe, Harry, 328; & Edna Leedom,
229
Tilden, Big Bill, 130
Till, John & Louisa, 117
Tilley, Vesta, 93-94, 102, 133
Tilton, Lucille, 94
Timberg, Herman, 122, 12 6, 148, 198,
232-233; Hattie &, 154
556
Timlin, Slim, 188
Tinker, Joe, 125, 127
Tinney, Frank, 84, 102, 135, 136, 142,
189, 221, 298
Tipple & Kilmet, 67
Tishman, Sam, 485
T.M.A. (Theatrical Mechanics Asso-
ciation), 300
Tobin, Vivian & Genevieve, 151
Tobin's Flats, N.Y.C., 278
Toe dancers, 46
Tom-Jack Trio, 67
Tomasons, The, 107
Tombs, Andy, 232
Tornita Jmjitsu Troupe, 128
Tompkins, Susan, 69
Toney & Norman, 230
Toona's Indian Novelty Co., Mile.,
224
Topack & Steele, 322
Torcat's & Fora D'Aliza's Educated
Roosters, 163, 166
Toto, 29
Touraine Hotel, Boston, 286
Tower & Darrell, 229
Towle, Joe, 199
Toy & Toy, 67, 223
Tracy, Arthur, The Street Singer, 136
Tracy, the Outlaw, 358
Trahan, Al, 136, 138, 301, 484
Transfield Sisters, 67
Transfigurators, 96-98
Travers, Roland, 105, 107
Travis, Cole, 113
Trevanthan, Charles, 62
"Trip Around the World/' 43
Trix Sisters, 1 50
'Troubles of 1920," 234
Troupers Club, N.Y.C,, 303
Troupers Club, West Coast, 303
Trovato, 135
Trovollo, 114, 321
Tucker, Al, 73
Tucker, Sophie, 54, 58, 60, 138, 333,
254> 327>493> 501> 5°3
Tuller's, Mike, Philadelphia, 281
Tulley, May, 125
INDEX
557
Tunney, Gene, 121, 254, 256, 407
Turelly, 68
Turner, Terry, 502
Twain, Mark, 211
Twelfth Night Club, 303
Twelve Pound Look, 5 1
"Twelve Speed Maniacs, The/' 489
Twenty-third Street Theatre, N.Y.C.,
365-367
"Two Black Crows." See Moran &
Mack
Two-man act, 82-87; sample scripts,
445-458, 461-464, 474-478; see also
Brother acts
Two-woman act, sample script, 458-
461; see also Sister acts
Tyler, George, 210
u
U.B.O. See United Booking Office
Ukulele Ike, 7 3
"Unexpected," 51
Union organized by White Rats, 312-
316
Union Hotel, N.Y.C., 305
Union Square Hotel, N.Y.C., 18, 305
Union Square Theatre, N.Y.C., 240,
248,322,336,366-367,404
Unique Theatre, N.Y.C., 121, 240,
24l
Unique Theatre (National), San
Francisco, 242
United Booking Office (Keith Vaude-
ville Exchange), 241-242, 248, 340,
344> 345-346, 357> 36*-363> 37a>
398-399, 420; opposition of White
Rats to, 310-316
"Unknown, The/' 51
Upholders, Benevolent Order of, 298
Uplifters Club, California, 300
Urma, Hetty, 94
Urso, Camilla, 404
Usher, Claude and Fannie, 52
Usher, Harry & Frances, no
Usher, May, 54, 60, 229
Valadon, Don & Lora, 30
Valadon, Paul, 109
Valdos, The, 109
Vallecita's Leopards, Dolores, 157
Vallee, Rudy, 253
Van, Billy B., 84, 142, 151, 198
Van, Gus, 496; & Joe Schenck, 8<r
138,254,493, 501
Van Allen, Will, 67
Van & Belle, 34
Van Biene, 69
Van Bros., 153
Vance, Clarice, 59, 324
Van Cello and Mary, 25
Vancos, The, 112
Vanderbilt, Gertrude, 54
Vandioff & Louise, 212
Vane, Sybil, 79
Van Horn, Harriet, 213
Van Horn & Inez, 32
Van Hoven, Frank, 108, 137, 199-200,
408
Vannis, Four, 487
Van Siclyn, 322
Vanvards, Six Flying, 31
Varden, Perry & Wilbur, 80
Vardman, 89
Variety, 152, 237, 274-275, 280, 313,
35*> 374
Variety Artists League, 298
Variety Clubs of America, 373
Varroll, Kaye, 116
Varvara, Leon, 68
Vasco, "The Mad Musician," 219
Vaterland Band, 71
Vaudeville, history of, 9-16
Vaudeville Comedy Club, 294-295 •
Vaudeville Managers Protective Ass'n,
248, 314
Vaudeville News, 316
Vaughn, Sara, 205
Vavarra, Leon, 327
Veiller, Bayard, 209
Veloz & Yolanda, 45
Vendig Hotel, Philadelphia, 281
INDEX
Ventriloquists, 113-117, 321; sample
script, 440-444
Vernon, Jules, 115
Victoria, Vesta, 53, 101, 133, 134, 251
Victoria Theatre, N.Y.C., 381, 382,
385-396, 491
Vierkotte, Ernest, 131
Vincent, Walter, 409-410
Vinton, Ed, & Buster, 161
Violinsky, Solly, 66, 198
Vishnu, 111
Vivians, Two, 3 5
V.M.P.A. See Vaudeville Managers
Protective Ass'n
Vodery, Will, 72
Voices, Officer, 165
Volant, 68
Von Grona's Dancers, 496
Von Tilzer, Al, 233
Vorhees, Don, 72
w
"Wager, The," 50, 98
Wagner, Charlie, 270
Waites, The Australian, 33
Wald, Jerry, 213
Waldron, Max, 90
Waldron Bros., 87
Walker, Ada Overton, 41, 204
Walker, Bea, 328
Walker, Danton, 213
Walker, George. See Bert Williams &
George Walker
Walker, Mickey, 122, 309
Walker, Raymond, 328
Wall Street Girl, The, 195
Wallace, "The Man Fish," 320
Wallace, Grace, 116
Wallace Puppets, 117
Wallace's Cockatoos, 163
Wallach, Sam, 122
Wallack, J. Lester, 305
Wallaces Hotel, N.Y.C., 280
Wallaces Theatre, N.Y.C., 382
Wallen, Clarence, 370
558
Wallen, George, 369, 370
Wallenstein, Alfred, 69
Walters. Emily, 1 14, 1 1 6
Walters, Gustave, 15, 360
Walters, Walter & Emily, 1 14
Walthall, Henry B., 51
Walthour & McEachern, 130
Walton, Maurice & Florence, 44
"War Brides/' 51
Ward, Artemus, 211
Ward&Curran, 52
Ward & Yokes, 262-263
Ward Bros., 43-44
Wardell, Harry, 101
Warfield, David, 89, 101, 103, 375-
377, 499
Warfield Theatre, San Francisco, 251
Waring, Fred, 72, 254, 310, 495
Washington, George Dewey, 79, 206
Watermelon Trust, 206
Waters, Ethel, 54, 205, 254
Waters, Tom, 73, 321
Watkins, Maurine, 209
Watson, Harry, Jr., 51
Watson, Harry B., 295
Watson, Sam, 113
Watson, Walter, 119
Watson Sisters, 149
Watson's Cozy Corner, Brooklyn, 377
Watts, James, 90
Wayburn, Ned, 145, 232
Wayne, Billy, & Ruth Warren, 154,
229
Wayne & Lovely, 321
Weadick, Guy, 165; & LaDue, 22, 36
Weaver Bros., 85, 87, 153; & Elviry,
233
Webb, Clifton, 45
Webb, Marguerite, 223
Webb & Burns, 87
Weber, Eddie, 326
Weber, Beck & Frazer, 80
Weber & Fields, 41, 83, 89, 102, 320,
484
Webster, George, 243
"Wedding Party, The," 234
Weeks, Marion, 79
Weems, Ted, 72
INDEX
559
Weems, Walter, 188-189
Weiner, Jack, 240
Weisiger's Hall, Louisville, 10
Weisner, Frank, 32
Welch, Ben, 179-180
Welch, Joe, 15, 175-176
Wells, Billy K., 49, 231
Wells, McGinty & West, 148
Welsh, Harry "Zoop," 52
Welsh, Rube, & Kitty Francis, 235
Welsh, "Scream/' Mealy & Montrose,
29
Welt, Marvin, 221
Wences, Senor, 115
Wentworth, Estelle, 79
Went worth, Walter, 37, 319
Werner, Amerous, 24
Wesner, Ella, 9 3
Wesseley Troupe, Max, 24
West, Buster, 47
West, Mae, 54,95, 103,256
West, Roland, 49, 97
West, J. Royer, 322
West, Virginia & West, 148
Western, Lillie, 93
Western Extravaganza Co., 235
Western Vaudeville Ass'n, 243, 346,
349, 361
Westford, Suzanne, 151
Weston, Carrol & Fields, 80
Weston, Edward Payson, 132
Weston, The Great, 213
Weston, Lucy, 59
Weston, Maggie, 319
Weston, Willie, 100, 198
Weston Sisters, 151
Weston's Models, 37
Westony, Vilmos, 68
Whalen, Harold, 84
Whalen,Mike S., 137
Wheeler, Bert & Betty, 230
Whelan, Albert, 1 34, 484
White, A1B., 198
White, Elmo re, 328
White, Frances, 59
White, George, 43; see also Scandals
White, Pearl, 280
White, Sammy, 43
White, Stanford, 306
White, Thelma & Margie, 150
White, Willie, 328
White, Black & Useless, 167
White Elephant, N.Y.C., 1 3
White Elephant, San Francisco, 15
White Rats, 311-317
White Sisters, 1 50
"White Slave, The," 51, 146
Whitehead, Joe, 199
Whiteman, Paul, 71-72, 252
Whiteside, Ethel, and Her Picks, 56
Whiting, George, 148, 300
Whiting & Burt, 2 30
Whitman, Walt, 210
Whitman Sisters, 205
Whitney Bros., 44
Whittle, W.E., 114
"Who Is Guilty?" 97
Wichman, George, 212
Wigman, San Francisco, 15
Wilcox, Ella Wheeler, 49
Wild, Arico, 88
Wilde, Mr. & Mrs. Gordon, 1 1 1
Wilder, Bill, 297
Wilder, Marshall P., 164, 198
Wilkes, Mattie, 205
Wilkinson, Dudley, 327
Willard, "The Man Who Grows,"
215-216
Willard, Jess, 123, 252, 255
Willard's Temple of Music, 67
William Tell House, Boston, 286
Williams, Colonel, 373
Williams, Arthur, 293
Williams, Mrs, Barney, 97
Williams, Bert, 47, 84, 101, 174-175,
198, 298, 321; & George Walker,
14, 83, 136, 201-202, 203, 204, 251
Williams, Bob, 73
Williams, Bransby, 133, 358, 484
Williams, Chinese Johnny, 108
Williams, George, 52
Williams, Gus, 319
Williams, Herb, 74, 136; & Wolfus,
136,230
Williams, Ina, 230
Williams, Mollie, 503
INDEX
Williams, Nora, 488
Williams, Percy G., 58, 294, 336,
345, 420; biography of, 353-359
Williams, Queenie, & Jere Delaney,
230
Williams, Sam, 149
Williams Sisters, 1 50
Williamson Music Co., 381
Willie, Lambs Club waiter, 309
Willie, Arthur, 48 5
Willis, Bob, 199
Wills, Nat, 198, 280, 311
Wills, Si, & Joan Davis, 230
Wilmer & Vincent, 336, 409-410
Wilson, Bubbles, 221
Wilson, Charlie, 199
Wilson, Earl, 21 3
Wilson, Francis, 88, 142
Wilson, George, 322
Wilson, Jack, 83,90, 135, 493
Wilson, Lizzie, 234
Wilson, Luke, 29-30
Wilson Bros., 83, 8 5, 153
Wilstach,FrankJ.,295
Wilton, Joe, & Weber, 83
Wilton, Mae & Rose, 150
Winchell, Walter, 213, 214, 240, 256,
3l6>495
Window, Muriel, 79
Winninger, Charles, 22
Winston Hotel, Cleveland, 281
Winter, William, 209
Winter, Winona, 116
Winton, Jay W., 1 14, n 5
Wire acts, 30; sample dialogue, 479
Wirth, May, 21; & Family, 147, 160
Witching Hour, The, 308
Wolf, Rennold, 209, 210
Wolgast, Midget, 123
Wolpin's restaurant, 260
"Won by a Leg/' 51
Wonderland, New York Theatre Roof,
373
Wonderlands, Minneapolis and St,
Paul, 16
Wood, Al, 85,86
Wood, J. Francis, 33
Wood, Joe, 240, 241-242
560
Wood, Milt, 4 3
Wood, Vivian, 9 3
Wood, Wee Georgie, 134
Wood, William, 486
Wood & Shepherd, 68, 141
Woodruff, C. B., 333
Woods, Al, 13-14,91,253
Woods, George, 1 5
Woods, Johnny, 115, 205
Woodthrope, "Bud," 120
Woodward, Matt, 49
Woolf, Edgar Allan, 49
Woolf oik, Boyle, 235
Woollcott, Alexander, 209, 213
Wop act, double, sample script, 448-
451
World War 1, 137-138,485
Wormwood's Dogs and Monkeys, 161,
163, 166-167
Worth While Waiting Four, 76
Worth's, Jacob, Boston, 286
Wrestlers, 128-129
Wright, Herbert, 71
Writers, vaudeville, 48-49, 209-210,
23X
Writer's Club, California, 300
Wyatt's Scotch Lads & Lassies, 68
Wycherly, Margaret, 97
Wykoff, Fred, 77
Wynducjer, 73
Wynn, Bessie, 59
Wynn, Ed, 83, 84, 191-192, 253, 486
Wynne, Wish, 135
Wyse, Ross, Jr., 148
Yacht Club Boys, 77, 80
Yandis Court, N.Y.C., 280
Yarick & Yolanda, 90
Yates & Wheeler, 90
Yawitz, Paul, 213
Yeamans, Annie, and daughter,
Yeanians & Titus, 322
Yellen, Jack, 59
INDEX
Yohe, May, 392-393
York & Adams, 85, 136
York & King, 136, 148,229,492,496
Yosco, 84
Young, Caesar, 387
Young, Marguerite, 54, 59, 328
Young, Ollie, and April, 33
Youngman Family, 30
Yurna, 36-37
Zalaya, 68
Zancigs, no
561
Zanettos, The, 25
Zardo, Eric, 68
"Zaza," 51
Zeeda, "The Snake Man," & Hott, 36
Zeiss's, Philadelphia, 281
Zemlock & Co., 109
Zeno, Jordan &Zeno, 223-224
Ziegfeld, Floienz, 33, 120
Ziegfeld Follies, 57, 58, 144, 194, 3°9>
382, 499
Ziegfeld Girls Clubr 303
Zimmerman, Willie, 103
Ziska & King, 108
Zit, 248, 503
Zoubalkis, 212
Ziikor, Adolph, 375
fIGS Toupees Make-Up
for Price
G-
S.t, N. Y.
Naynon s Birds
Chief Caupolican
2d half
Tyrol! & Mack
Thornton & Sflaired
Espe & Button
Eric Zardo
F Ardath Co
Prottorti
24 half (27-30)
Hoy & Arthur
Sully & Kennedy
WASHINGTON
B. F. Keith'a
Sully & Thomas
Kennedy & Berld
JsSaa Graxfesc
Florence Walton
The Le Groha
Wm Sea bury Co
Jos X Watson
B. Fa
FIslse & Gallon
Schwartz & Cllf'rd
3 Whirlwinds
(One to fill)
2d halt
The Vanderbilta
Cameron & O'Con'r
(Others to fill)
CHICAGO
Majestic
Creole 'Fash Plate
Otcott & Ann
Hedcgus
LaMont 3
Norton <& Melnotte
3 Melvlns
Tracy & McBrtfle
Sig Friscoe
Emma Cams
Gilbert Welli
'Bobby McLeaa
J Singer Bolls
Zclayo
McCarthy & St*rn'd
Lew Dockstadtr
A "Willis
Mason & Shaw
B O HllUam
Wilson
Ramsdell Co
,
Xa«iona Park
fteiacks
$m & Marie
>3ce Combe
IB Bernard Co
lifer Clifford
Jersey Bros
'Juvenility"
|
|M® Kayea & M
|We & Herman
HWred Harris Co
tank Wilcox
'
; '
Sl> Murphy
Ittfray Volk
IWa & Boyle
Siva Harrte Co
parents
pllN,N K A JrO US
liicttsicpiis
Ktttow Midgeti
PHh, Jojteaosi
iVThite Ktihns
I«d Norwortli
#4 Lorraine
f/idr
lick Citftord
Leila Shaw Co
Wheeler & Potter
Farrel! Taylor 3
2d half
Martin & Brc^wa
Henry Sis
Lee Tracy Co
Warren & O'Brien
CSias Afaearn Co
Orplieum
Florence Perry
Reilly & Rogers
Alex Bros & Evelyn
May McKay & Sis
Dan Downing1
Taylor Macy & H
Krayona & Co
Monroe & Grattar
2<1 half
Evans & Massard
Orville Stamm
K Stang- Co
C & S McDonald
Ask MR,
Bob Ferns Co !
Celia Weston Co
TOLEDO, Op
Xtivoli
Tak! & AIko
Cshitian & H'r'g'ton
Martin O'Brien C0
Garden of Musie
Case & Mayno
Spencer Sis & W
Austin & Dalaaey
W'T'BTOWN, W, W«
Avoa
Thrte Martells
Saxon & Griff
Patima L'Boche'Od
2d half
Lynch & K
l^orvcllo Co
AtTDEYILLE
BT»
Oa'bbort Duo
Jo« Regan C§
4 Kings &
Hector
JBthel Park OP Co
"F'our of W
Eldrtdge BTw & K
Paarsoa N'port & 1?
£Ol*}ffi!£A, KAM*(>
jNbvrKy
Wm Edmund* Co
Villani Bros
Huloft & Elton
(One to fill)
Bradbury & Scully
Daffy & Sweeney
Lee KMa
(Others to fill)
3d half
Fierce & Kyan
tester Allen Co
(Others to fill)
Rulott & Bitoa
Vlllanl Bros
3$ob Anderson
Hodge & Lowell
LIndley'a Co
Carptis Bros
2d half
Duffy & Sweeney
J R Johnson Co
Kigglna & Bates
Blgelow & Clinton
COtliers to fill)
Bigelow <& Clinton
HIgglns & Bates
Hawthorne & Cook
Bf««tt Family
2d half
Alton. & Ailea
Frank Monroe Co
Johnny Burke
Phil Baker
EHnore & IVilli'xns
Miller Glrla
(Two to HI!)
Colnmbto
2d half
Bob Anderson
Stieraian & O'R'ke
Harry Hay den Co
Burt & Rosedal©
Ted Lewis Co
BROOKLYN
Jean & White
Billy Glason
DeWolf Girls
Stella Mayhew
M Montgomery
O'Neii & Flippon
M McBermott Co
Keith's
McCarthy Sis
Harry Breea
Juiletta Bika
l»ou Tellesen
Until Budd
Joe Laurie
"Little Cottage"
The Mclntyres '
Kola Jackson Trio
Holland & Fisher
Tom & Dolly Ward-
Ulls & Clark
Bond "Wilson Co
Abbott & White
Santago Trio
N. y*
Victory
Alman & Har?«j
¥
1
Globe
Delzell A Franc*
Vyvy&n ft Kastner
Eastman ft' Moore :
Calvin ft O'ConB<?r
"Artist's Dream"
2«t halt
Lttsoloa Lucca
Glenooe Sis RBT
Coden & Lufc«n
and
"The Singing Hwmoresques"
Monroe & Grant
McCarthy Sis
Allman & Howard
J R Jolinson Co
(One to fill)
lat half (31-2)
Green. & Parker
Toto
Veterans Variety
COtliers to fill)
N. 9.
2d half C2WW
Tansan
Duffy & Sweeny
Arnold Daly Co
Stars Yesterday
H A B Stiarrock
(One to fill)
1st half (31-2)
Moody & Duacwa
Ted Lewis Co
(Others to fill)
2d half (3*6)
ton c
CO2W.
Gray Sisters
Hlng1 A Norvel
Foster A Semoa
Annette
Al K Hall Ctt
M halt
Sheltjy Trio
Pant CorFtn
Frit*! ScSiftt
Morris ^ Shaw
Mora, A Eeckl«»§ 1
Ctapitoi
Mow. A EecWe»$ 8
Princes* Wlnona
BlHy Bale Cd
Stanley 4 BIra*»
Roferf A Coiftttw»
1 MiUtarr OtrU
Id *aW
Tw«» I* IDeUav
Wa Moo» <?o
A
F^llltf
N. T«
Procter's
2d half (27-SO)
Snltz Moore <& 1C
Motley Sis
Zuhn & Drels
Flashes Songland
Devlin's Rev
(One to fill)
1st half (31-2)
Canning-ham A B
J R Jotmson Co
to fill)
2d |iAlf (3-8)
W & O Atiearu
Bronaoa A Bdw*4«
COthera to fill)
Broken promises
Jennings & Dorncy
Foley & Spartan
(One to fill)
2d half ;
Leo Zarrell 1
Bent & Clare
Honeymoon Ship
Fr&zer & Bunc«
Dublin Trio
Walters & Gould
Old Timers
Lewis & Bog-era
(One to fill)
JackStratsse
(One to fill)
Harvard ft Bruce
Drlacoll Lous A H
Morgan A Orey
SoBsman & Sloaa«
(One to fill)
Joe Kelso
Wahl A Francla
Clifford & X*ali«.
M half
Van A Bmersoa
Wliaoa A KelU
Clark 'Co
X'O
State
Arnold Graztr
Miller Packer A S
F Stafford Cd
I4*aeh LmQutnlAn 3
Dowsw & Whltlnf
T«xa* Gulnan
A Armttr'ir
Xlo Duo
*Harry Watklna
B C«
A
The Fhitnwrs
»a halt
CAM
Jtpflittt M*6flcte Co
Cort«IIS *
*
Ob & 1ft A Alff^WB©
lrtp« frtvttte
A »
^ '
ii V f¥ altTiW* •pffcti ,«»*•
ThMtrtenl Ritt te tt«, 70e.s ftraiff/lf.00. Uw» Batt te »i|
Oil ,; OPfiM—
and CO.
WITH
MAJKgTlC* CHICAGO, JULY :';i
E. !»«.
IS 46th *.?6W ¥ofk
Telephone 1W8
IBCUIT
Blackface Ed
J Amoroi Co
K.
SheHjy Trio
Corvln
Mortis *
sa
Three
Annette
Rittf & Norvtl
ft
FA,
Pftifi
(W*lc''S'«B*rf« split)
A
Oo
Hill
Trixle FrIft>»K»
Grace Htlttoia
Niohe
Lola A '
A
Jfartftt A Moow
'jb'rbert Brooto
; ,,
'|B;iift4lfty ®P * n i n y )
ok&e Wilbur
•Hurray 0«
|r|
2d half
BAH Waljwf
Officer HywsAn
"Tals;^ It Ka»y"
Jf-nnlnits & Dorticy
Don Valerlo C«
B
Kvans $t'y&*4* A K
Drtoa SS«
Harry White
IfattloB A ClUtdn
(On* to. fill)
M half
Xtttclcftr A yurrts
Mito MUohelt A M
(Two to ftU)
H«tvo»»Utitfi
2>0m Valirto Oft
'C^olc A Vefnoft
Khehan A Howls
Cliff
t^ AH)
ttio
A Th*!Mt*AI
KrnttH'*4i Whlt,«,
f flXU , ,, -
OMAHA
Luclttt Lucca
Giene^it Sia
M half
Blanchon
Davis A "Walker
PAJfTAGE
JOINNBAFOLXS
D^^tltflii^MI
^Baturday opentxi$r)
Jtrf^Uttf Nelson
A Tennyson
Tylar * Crolftti
Oolden Bird
Wj$*
**Si*ppittf Home**'
& ,
Vftltiftttoc Tt«
Tr-lo *
C01'
;• , .'
4 • - '
,',,
'"
Allen ft !>«»
Laura Marsh
I»-W 0«bert Co
Mo her <ft Undfidifu
2d half
Dttaell & FfatiC'C*
Vrvyaa * , Kt«tna*'
Baatman A
Calvla ^ O'Connor
3
MAr%a Clfttr*
II B^wwlttgr
4
bill
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1 II
A to*
»,» A
'^ffttttUfi .^f ;
J?
lltv
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HIM , '
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Wild «& Kill*
{One to fill)
81sfc 8t*
Al Striker
4*Y0tttiff America."
•8haw Columbua
A
Barrett & Ftttnw»
(One to fill)
H. O. H*
*2a half t37*>0)
Montarabo & Nap
Sherman & Fierce
Bobbe Ss Nol»o»
*p*ntheen Staffers
Mel Xlee
1st half <n-a>
Thornton A King
OTasliei Songland
lOthera to fill)
M half (3-6)
Smith
Clinton ft Rooasy
lieona Hall's B«*r
WowSfJii & Maoic
<One to fill)
81
2d half (27-80)
Al Shaynw
flevllle Co
Sfoxwortli As ynclfl
Tony Co
lOthiWf t« fill)
lat half ,
M half (27-80)
Hatiey & Morgan
Rttloff & Sftton
Thornton A Kt»e
J & B
*Wortcs A Mwrtc
1st half (31-1)
Bolger Broi
(Other* to flit)
*d halt (3-0)
Al Shayne
(Other* to fill)
KeItH'6 Froepeet
M half (27-30)
Yletneiy A JOou'eliy
Royal Oa«colfft*«
Fisher & Hurst
Marino & Martin
Henry'* Melody f
lat half (3l»l)
Al Stmyne
Buelgridge A
{Others to fill)
»• id half
Tarxaw
Oreem ft
(Qtiheip to fill)
H, *,
Tyreii A
Thornton A ItfiYif
H Bttf»a Co
M half
HUGHHIRBERT
til
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1 34 628
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