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 Founder and first Big Chief of th* 
 White Rats of America 
 
 
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 TAix Volume 'torn the Press oj 
 
 BROADWAY PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
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 S35 Broadway 
 
 Nrw York
 
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 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAGE 
 
 My Lady Vaudeville I 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 My Lady's Advancement 8 
 
 CHAPTER HL 
 My Lady's Suitors i8 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Water Rats of London 27 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Dromio 33 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 The Nightingale 47 
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 Mantwa 57 
 
 CHAPTER VHL 
 The White Rats 66 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Original Eight 72 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 The Spirit of Starland 82 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 Early Trials 89 
 
 CHAPTER XH. 
 
 The Booking Offices 95 
 
 CHAPTER XHI. 
 
 Mantwa Muses 106 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Vanity. • 1 14
 
 ii CoNTKNn. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. »AGE 
 
 Some Starry Knights *••.••. 120 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 The Crisis , .••••• 129 
 
 CHAPTER XVn. 
 
 Five Per Cent 140 
 
 CHAPTER XVni. 
 
 Enter Kendall 145 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The Vaudeville Bryan and "Cookie" •• 149 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Victory 155 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Jubilation, Struggle and Strife 161 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A Glance at Barrymore 173 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Reconstruction 175 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Prospects of the Star Legion 180 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Exit the Fool 186 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 Knights of the Royal Realm .«•.•••• 194
 
 L 
 
 THAT was an inspiring superstition of the an- 
 cient Greeks, the supposition of a deity or 
 muse presiding over each branch of art. 
 Under its influence they produced the most beauti- 
 ful works the world has ever seen. And though 
 thousands of years have passed since then our 
 artists still listen to the echoes of those Hellenic 
 wonder workers. The nerves of the world were 
 less racked in those days, and the perfection of each 
 conception was a work of joy, inspired by hopes 
 of divine approbation. 
 
 Those godful skies of Greece have vanished, we 
 have lighted our tallow dips on her stars. And 
 while her muses have slept through the centuries 
 we have spent our breath and energy on speed and 
 noise. 
 
 It is time for some satisfying diversion. And 
 lol into this clanking age of iron and gold a new 
 little spangled fairy emerges, and methinks I can 
 hear the notes of "Euterpe," "Melpomene," 
 "Thalia," et al, in her still undeveloped voice. She
 
 2 ^p Laup 
 
 is ni}' I.ady Vaudeville. She has grown up in this 
 new world and knows its hetrogeneity. She has 
 only lately been anointed by those dreaming deities 
 of old, so you may call her an accretion, an evolu- 
 tion or what you will, because she did not burst 
 forth in full armour from the brow of Zeus, but 
 evolved and grew beautiful through the ages. Now 
 she is growing wise, and soon they are to crown 
 her with the laurel. 
 
 We are all players, let us play we are Greeks. 
 My Lady Vaudeville is the spirit of the modern 
 stage. And in proportion as light has come to her, 
 she has educated her followers to a better under- 
 standing. Gifted with perennial youth, she moulds 
 herself into proportions ever more beautiful At first 
 she inspired only songs and dances, capers, stunts 
 and antics, and then gradually tln^ough the years 
 her votaries became more and more versatile, more 
 proficient, then aspiring, and now, like Undine of 
 old, she has found her soul, and she aspires to in- 
 terpret life and dreams. Opinion differs as to her 
 origin and name. Some say her title came from a 
 valley in Normandy, "The Val de Vire," while oth- 
 ers contend that she was christened on the banks of 
 the Seine, many centuries ago, when Napoleon, 
 Notre Dame, and what we now call French history 
 were all still in the distant days to come. Her Sire 
 is supposed to have been a Fuller, who (like most 
 men) took his name from his occupation, tliat of
 
 l^auDetiille 3 
 
 fulling cloth. His workers, each evening after toil, 
 gave entertainments on the banks of the river, and 
 became known as the entertainers of the "Virevaude 
 or Vaudevire'* or "Vire Vire." However, this is 
 all conjectural and concerns her name only, her 
 spirit has existed since men and women first began 
 to amuse each other with their talents. She has had 
 many names, but "what's in a name?" She was 
 born to please, and her minstrels have found their 
 way into all lands with the gospel of laughter and 
 song. And while her tribe has increased incalcula- 
 bly her spirit has evolved infinitely. From her 
 school the world's best stage artists have graduated. 
 Under her presidence the pulse of the world is 
 learned. Her career has been a varied one. She 
 came to this country in disguise and served us non- 
 descript diversion in smoky halls under the name 
 of variety. (In her heart she is a masker.) Her 
 puppets then were clowns and buffoons, with the 
 eternal exception of the few, the mislabeled few, 
 who are always everywhere among the many, who 
 know things that they can not explain ; they know, 
 and are therefore unknown. These few may have 
 read the mystery of her starry eyes and believed in 
 her destiny, but their names are "writ in water." 
 Her audiences in those days were mostly of the same 
 calibre as her entertainers, but as she improved her 
 fare, new pilgrims came with softer voices and more 
 gentle acclaim. But while still ambling before the
 
 4 #p La0p 
 
 Philistines she was learning our ways, and studying 
 how to wile us into an appreciation of better forms. 
 Those were the days when some people used to 
 say, "Your gallery god is your best judge of a 
 show." Now everybody knows that a "Gallery 
 god's twin deities are the slapstick and the bladder. 
 However, when my Lady had served her purpose 
 under the name of "Variety" she reassumed her old 
 French cognomen "Vaudeville" and a palace was 
 built for her in Boston, Mass., costing more than 
 a million of dollars, then she tactfully prefixed the 
 word "polite" to her name to lure the fastidious, 
 who accept everything as per label when once it has 
 passed the approval of the censor respectability. 
 And as this class lives within such narrow bounds 
 of convention as to be the least amused of all the 
 earth's pilgrims, if not the most bored, they are 
 consequently the most easily pleased. Therefore 
 My Lady's advent was a blessing and their conver- 
 sion easy. And as clean entertainment is most pal- 
 atable it is also most profitable. So My Lady*s 
 smiles began to turn things into gold. And rival 
 suitors came a wooing, and built other palaces in her 
 name and she sailed along on the placid waters of 
 prosperity for years as "Polite Vaudeville." And 
 now competition for her became keen, and as com- 
 petition is the life of her, she became beautiful, 
 bright and clean. Her suitors built more palaces 
 and became rich while serving her. Her jesteri
 
 l^auDetJflle 
 
 abandoned the slap stick for the cap and bells. 
 Everybody began to recognize her, and while some 
 people came to see their favorites from the Thespian 
 Temples play under her banner, they remained to 
 be amused by her merry Andrews posturemasters, 
 comic singers, dancers and reciters. Soon many of 
 the elect of these were serving in the so-called legiti- 
 mate theaters and becoming world famous, while 
 the influx from these theaters to my Lady's halls 
 drew a still larger clientele of "desirables" to her 
 palaces and the fare she served overcame their 
 prejudices. Meanwhile the plot weavers sat up and 
 took notice, and the best of them have now forsaken 
 Morpheus o' nights to dream opened eyed, of laugh- 
 ter and tear compelling episodes to be played at my 
 Lady's festivals. And so she has come out of the 
 depths. She has evolved, she has come into her 
 own. She has taken the drama under her wing 
 and now flings you forth tabloid forms of the his- 
 trionic art between the lighter essays of her jesters. 
 She has opened up an undreamed of era of theatri- 
 cal enterprise, and if she continues to advance we 
 may see in the near future all the best forms of the 
 drama under her name. She is not in competition 
 with the drama, she contains it, in all its forms. 
 Tragedy, comedy, tragicomedy, farce, opera, oper- 
 etta, minstrels and specialty. And when in the 
 future you enjoy an excerpt from the best of each of 
 the above in one night, under one roof, you may be
 
 6 g^p Ha Up 
 
 sure my Lady is presiding. The times demand that 
 she reign. The age is rampant for speed. You 
 want that and I want this, and someone else wants 
 a taste of all in one night, well now it has come 
 about that my Lady can serve all profitably, and 
 though she still retains her light and airy ways of 
 song and dance and laughter, she is shriven of her 
 stigma. No loss of dignity now to play the greatest 
 drama ever written under her name. And once 
 more, "What's in a name?" What boots it what 
 we call her so long as she has grown great of enter- 
 prise? What matter whether we say Vaudeville, 
 Val de Vire or variety, so long as her artists be 
 competent, some to interpret our emotions and oth- 
 ers to divert and entertain us ? As we grow ripe for 
 better and higher forms of entertainment my Lady 
 serves them, and will serve them as we grow. Her 
 path has ever been upward, and against great odds ; 
 she has drunk of the dregs, and yet her spirit was 
 always pure. The desire to please, to give joy and 
 mayhap make us forget, this is the spirit that ani- 
 mated her and it is the spirit of life. Life itself is 
 a lethe, otherwise it would be impossible, hence she 
 is part of the universal harmony that turns worth- 
 less things to joy for the purpose of beguiling us to 
 live out this pilgrimage. And against the prejudice 
 of caste and class and the anathemas of one-eyed 
 bigots she has somehow managed to trip her light 
 fantastic way to the top of the mummers Olympian
 
 l^auHetJille 7 
 
 mountain, and is now destined to be crowned God- 
 dess of Theatredom. Who is responsible? What 
 does it matter? This man builds a temple and that 
 man teaches by precept and example. The Gods 
 choose their own instruments to do their work. Men 
 are their pawns. In this man's heart they put the 
 greed of gold, in another's soul the love of fame. 
 They merely use ether instead of steam. They fire 
 the brain to ambition with the promise of heartsease 
 in the future. In this cosmos there is a love of 
 power and in that a desire for contentment, and be- 
 fore every man's eyes is a phantom to lure him to 
 his work and his destiny. Each man builds he 
 knows not why, but thinks he knows, so the work 
 goes on, and the Gods prevail. My Lady is a God- 
 dess. The Goddess of Theatredom. I am one of 
 her votaries. I make this obeisance at her shrine.
 
 8 ®p JLatip 
 
 II. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the people who coined the cap- 
 tion, "Advanced Vaudeville," have retired, 
 they have given us a term worth consider- 
 ing. The term "Advanced Vaudeville" is a large 
 one, because of the wonderful possibilities it sug- 
 gests to the imagination. 
 
 Considering the elasticity of the term "Vaude- 
 ville," and the great improvement made in this form 
 of amusement in the last few years. Vaudeville ad- 
 vanced may be construed to mean an entertainment 
 composed of all that is best in the dramatic, oper- 
 atic, and concert fields; in fact, in every field of 
 amusement. It depends on how far it advances. It 
 is possible that it may change the whole present 
 order of theatrical entertainment altogether. It may 
 be the dawn of a new era of theatricals. The dis- 
 contented playgoer may at last come into his own. 
 All your Ibsenites, Maeterlinckers, Yeatsmen and 
 Shawnees may at last have their aesthetic appetites 
 a[)pcascd. Under certain conditions it would not
 
 I^autietiille 
 
 only be possible, but comparatively easy, to make as 
 much improvement in present vaudeville as the pres- 
 ent vaudeville entertainment is an improvement upon 
 the old-time variety show. And as a vaudeville en- 
 tertainment is supposed to be so varied as to con- 
 tain something to please everybody, it remains now 
 for those who have so long deplored the commer- 
 cial part of theatricals, and who have argued so 
 strenuously for the uplifting of the play and the 
 stage to grasp this opportunity, and see to it that 
 every advanced vaudeville entertainment shall con- 
 tain some offering of that high educational order 
 of dramatic art (albeit in tabloid form) to which 
 they claim the drama should be dedicated. Once 
 vaudeville becomes recognized as the only profitable 
 purveyor of excerps from the best art of all fields 
 of amusement, and its interpreters have become rec- 
 ognized as the highest class of artists — and who 
 knows how many a mute, unconscious Maeterlink, 
 Yeats or Ibsen may yet be unveiled and encouraged. 
 And therefore, those who believe in the higher pur- 
 pose of the drama will find in this erstwhile de- 
 spised medium, this very frolicsome fairy at whom 
 they pursed their lips in contempt, the only pos- 
 sible caterer to their tastes: because, seated in the 
 same theatre with them will be people who have 
 come to see another portion of the varied entertain- 
 ment. And who knows but that some of those less 
 cultured brethren may thereby be swindled into a
 
 10 Qip jLaDg 
 
 taste for these so-called higher essays? Grant this, 
 and its educational function is settled. But the 
 point is this: that Jones, who pays his money to 
 laugh at Ezra Kendall's monologue, helps to make 
 profitable an amusement enterprise that also caters 
 to Smith, who pays to see Forbes Robertson, or E. 
 H. Sothern, in a scene from "Hamlet," or Arnold 
 Daly in a Shaw tabloid, or Junie McCree.. in a char- 
 acter impersonation, and vice versa. It has been 
 said that "there is a tide in the affairs of men 
 which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune,'* and 
 these are the flood tide days for the vaudeville 
 artists. Everywhere there is tribulation over the 
 fact that Klaw & Erlanger have retired from the 
 fight, and so there should be; but every person who 
 earns his living on the stage should encourage other 
 competition for the future. As to the success of 
 future competition there can be no doubt, and here 
 is the point: With competition, everybody wins — 
 public, performers, and all. This is so obvious that 
 it seems superfluous to state it, but it is necessary 
 to state it, just the same. The performers of Amer- 
 ica should exert their best endeavors to apprise the 
 public of the fact, that vaudeville will only continue 
 to advance with competition; and without it, the 
 quality of the shows must deteriorate. But as Klaw 
 & Erlanger have quit, whence is this future opposi- 
 tion coming? If they who control most of the thea- 
 tres in America have failed in this undertaking, who
 
 is going to succeed? There is one force outside of 
 this capable of coping with the situation, and that 
 force is in possession of the only answer to the prob- 
 lem. That is, a circuit of theatres, owned and con- 
 trolled by actors. This could easily be accomplished 
 by co-operation on the part of the actors, but it 
 would take a little time. It would not be difficult, 
 however, though it seems difficult, to make the ac- 
 tors understand. It seems difficult to convince them 
 that it is just as easy for them to own their own 
 theatres collectively as it is for them to own their 
 own homes individually. All that is needed is co- 
 operation and a theatrical investment fund. It is 
 not necessary for them to try to be managers. Their 
 inability in this respect is well known. They just 
 need to own them and to control them; and when 
 they do this, they will have settled this question for 
 all time. Competent managers can be engaged to 
 work just and earnestly and as honestly for a salary 
 or on a percentage basis for a co-operative body of 
 artists as for any syndicate or trust. And with five 
 per cent, of their salaries, a few hundred artists 
 could, in a few years* time, own sufficient theatres 
 to forever preclude the possibility of any syndicate 
 eliminating competition, or of any combination of 
 capital menacing their welfare. Each artist could 
 receive shares to the amount of his weekly five per 
 cent, in the fund, and when a theatre can be pur- 
 chased or built, they can buy it or build it. Five per
 
 12 ^p JLaDp 
 
 cent, of the salaries of artists playing in vaudeville 
 this year amounts to hundreds of thousands of dol- 
 lars — perhaps millions — and now is the time for 
 such a fund to be established, though it should have 
 been done while these opposing forces were fighting. 
 This plan has been preached to the actors of 
 America for seven years. Now, they awake to a re- 
 alization of the necessity of it. The public should 
 somehow be made to understand that, when compe- 
 tition ceases, back to their former fields will fly all 
 those big attractions from the drama, the opera, and 
 the concert stage, and yet, under the conditions of 
 competition, the influx from these fields into vaude- 
 ville must of necessity become better and brighter. 
 There has always been competition in vaudeville, 
 with the possible exception of some of the Keith 
 Houses ; but there was never a time when Mr. Keith 
 did not fear competition, and in proportion to such 
 competition as he has experienced, his entertain- 
 ments have improved. Ordinary vaudeville has be- 
 come so attractive that, in certain cities where there 
 has been no competition, the public is inclined to 
 say : "Oh ! Mr. Jones has always given us good 
 vaudeville, why should we patronize some one else?" 
 When in truth Jones may have been selling them 
 lemons. But the public is usually slow to learn. It 
 is generally wrong about everything worth knowing, 
 especially about life. Thought has ever been the
 
 l^auDetJille 13 
 
 guest of the few, and a regard for truth and justice 
 of fewer still. That is why the paths of progress 
 are paved with the bones of pioneers. The public 
 loves to get used to a rut and remain in it. It is 
 easier than thinking. Most people are credulous, 
 and will always remain so; and these vaudeville 
 managers who have had things pretty much their 
 own way, so to speak, in the last few years, have 
 gradually educated their patrons to the belief that 
 the theatre is THE thing, and therefore, in those 
 cities where competition has been eliminated and as 
 there is only one theatre where the public may enjoy 
 vaudeville, why, of course, vaudeville is Jones' thea- 
 tre, and Jones' theatre is vaudeville. The theatre 
 and its class of entertainment become identified, and 
 the silly public never stops to think that it is a very 
 clever plan on the part of an unopposed manager to 
 fool it into the belief that vaudeville is impossible 
 outside of his own theatre; but the moment opposi- 
 tion comes upon him, he rushes to get some real acts, 
 and well-known names. Compare the quality of en- 
 tertainment in any vaudeville theatre that has oppo- 
 sition with one that has not. Everybody knows 
 what class of vaudeville has been served to the Chi- 
 cago public for years. Why ? Because there was no 
 opposition. But how the quality changed in that 
 city the day Klaw & Erlanger opened the Audi- 
 torium with opposition vaudeville. The following 
 are the acts billed to appear at the Majestic Theatre,
 
 14 0^p La Dp 
 
 Chicago, during the week of October 13, 1907, the 
 same being the opening week of the Auditorium: 
 
 May Irwin; 
 
 Hilda Spong & Company; 
 
 William Courtleigh & Company; 
 
 Moto Girls; 
 
 The Trenadians; 
 
 Spessel Brothers and Mack; 
 
 Clarks Hasardous Globe; 
 
 Jack Wilson & Company; 
 
 George Austin Moore; 
 
 Corbrey Brothers; 
 
 The Torettos; 
 
 Adele McNiel. 
 The salary list at the Auditorium may have even 
 exceeded this, but did ever Chicago present a regu- 
 lar bill of equal importance, or one approaching it 
 in excellence before? No. Well, then, who bene- 
 fited by the opposition ? Obviously, the public. But 
 as the public pays little or no attention to theatrical 
 competition, and as the welfare of the artist depends 
 almost entirely upon it, it is his duty to educate the 
 public to the importance of it. No one will contend 
 that when a corporation or syndicate has made op- 
 position impossible that it will expend four or five 
 times as much as is necessary for its raw materials. 
 The history of all trusts and syndicates prove the 
 contrary to be true. In other words, if a manager 
 is running a successful vaudeville theatre in a cer-
 
 I^aunetjflle is 
 
 tain community, with matters so fixed that there is 
 no opposition to him, and no cause for him to fear 
 any in the future, will he expend $4,000.00 per week 
 on an entertainment when he can fill his theatre 
 nightly, and satisfy his patrons by an outlay of 
 $2,000.00 weekly? Will he, in other words, make 
 the public a present of $2,000 worth of enter- 
 tainment every week? Of course, he will not; and, 
 therefore, when competition ceases permanently, 
 vaudeville is doomed. On the other hand, under 
 the impetus of opposition, there is no telling how 
 far vaudeville may advance, especially in America. 
 This is the one country where this form of enter- 
 tainment is most suited to the general taste, because 
 our own public is composed of all nationalities ; and 
 in a high-class, well-diversified vaudeville entertain- 
 ment something may be found to please each and all. 
 
 Each European nation may be looked upon as a 
 large family, each of which has developed more or 
 less similar tastes, while ours is a nation composed 
 of all the families of the earth, all with different 
 tastes, and all in different states of development. 
 What is so well suited to them as vaudeville? 
 
 But let us consider this question from the cultured 
 person's point of view. 
 
 Six years ago, in an address to the Old Playgoers' 
 Club, of London, England, an audience of dramat- 
 ists, critics, novelists and playgoers, the writer pre- 
 dicted that the day was not far distant when the
 
 i6 Qip Ladp 
 
 patrons of the English Mnsic Halls and the Ameri- 
 can vaudeville theatres would be witnessing a fu- 
 ture Henry Irving playing a scene from "The Mer- 
 chant of Venice," and a future Dan Leno doing a 
 turn of comic songs on the same stage, during the 
 same evening. 
 
 In the debate which followed, Cecil Raleigh, the 
 playwriter, made use, for the first time, of the term 
 "tabloid drama," and it is almost certain that the 
 best dramatic works of future authors may be com- 
 pressed into this form of offering. They say it 
 takes months to play a Chinese drama, and some- 
 times two or three nights are required for the en- 
 actment of a German tragedy, while our best mod- 
 ern American and English plays would run about 
 two hours if intermissions were omitted. Then, 
 why not the real masterpieces, of one hour's dura- 
 tion, in vaudeville? But we must keep advancing 
 Our Lady, in order that she may discover our 
 genius. 
 
 It is well known that an Ibsen drama cannot be 
 made financially profitable in this country at the 
 present time, the reason being that there are not 
 enough Ibsenites to support it. The same may be 
 said of the plays of Maeterlinck, Yeats, and in some 
 cases of Shaw. Even Shakespeare is said to spell 
 financial ruin. And when you stop to think that we 
 have only one or two actors in all America who play 
 these higliPT fnyms of the drama, and of the thou-
 
 l^auUetiille 17 
 
 sands of people all over the country who nightly 
 enjoy little serious, artistic efforts on vaudeville 
 programmes the opportunity for further advance- 
 ment in this direction, seems hopeful. But we must 
 have competition; and now it seems that we must 
 make this competition ourselves. It is the only way ; 
 it is the sure way; and it is absolutely practicable. 
 The situation is in the hands of the actors. If they 
 have the courage of enterprise, then success is as- 
 sured.
 
 i8 ®p £aDp 
 
 III. 
 
 BUT, as has been said, My Lady Vaudeville 
 has had her suitors as well as her votaries. 
 And these suitors conceived of a plan 
 whereby to enmesh her and keep her all to them- 
 selves. So they wove a net which they called a 
 Managers' Association, to hold her in corral. They 
 are, however, no more to blame for so doing than 
 the sun is to blame for shining. The merging of 
 kindred enterprises for the purpose of control is 
 the natural outcome of that desire for power which 
 is in every man's heart more or less. It is merely 
 the necessary modern expression of man's oldest 
 impulse. They could not help doing so. It was 
 to be. It is the modern commercial way of things. 
 But these suitors or managers themselves most prob- 
 ably do not know that they would have been power- 
 less to have done otherwise. It is given to only a 
 few to know that we are all pawns on this checker 
 board of nights and days, else the game could not 
 go on. The eternal run of the universal comedy 
 would be at an end. The play would iiave to be
 
 l^auDeUille 19 
 
 discontinued if we knew why we played our parts. 
 We know ottr why but do not know the great why. 
 
 And so these gentlemen, while laboring under 
 the impression that they were each and all work- 
 ing for themselves, were really beautifying My 
 Lady's surroundings and causing her advancement, 
 thereby rendering a service for all the people. But 
 what they probably would not admit, and perhaps 
 do not believe, is the great assistance they have had 
 through opposition, or the greater help they could 
 have had through co-operation. 
 
 However, there is no criticism for them here ; as 
 men many of them are good fellows and most of 
 them are men of high enterprise who doubtless think 
 they are patient, just and right. 
 
 If credit were a thing to be spoken of, unques- 
 tionably to the late Tony Pastor and to Mr. B. F. 
 Keith and his clever lieutenants should go the palms 
 for first making My Lady Vaudeville possible. But 
 Mr. Pastor operated only in New York City on a 
 comparatively small scale. Mr. Keith built her first 
 temple and swept the mire and slush from her 
 pathway. He worked hard to banish vulgarity, 
 slang and profanity from her stages, and succeeded. 
 He brought ladies and gentlemen and children to her 
 temples, and served them with clean and interesting 
 entertainment. So also at nearly the same time did 
 his then rival, Mr. F. F. Proctor; and shortly after- 
 wards, Mr. Percy Williams, who rejuvenated My
 
 20 Qip JLatJp 
 
 Lady when she was growing weary of reiteration 
 and the same old grind. He brought from Europe 
 a new influx of stars, paid them enormous salaries, 
 and succeeded in making them more successful than 
 European artists had hitherto been in this country. 
 So everybody woke up and took notice, and My 
 Lady took on a new smile. Incidentally Mike Shea, 
 of Buffalo (who, next to Mr. Williams, is the most 
 popular Roman of them all among those who play 
 for him), Hammerstein, the imperturbable; Mr. 
 Chase, of Washington; Harry Davis, of Pittsburg, 
 and all those managers farther West readjusted 
 their field glasses, raised the ante and drew cards. 
 Drawing cards. 
 
 Who benefited? Obviously the public — the per- 
 former and the manager. And it must be borne in 
 mind that at this time Mr. Williams did not be- 
 long to the Association; although it must also be 
 admitted that since the reformation of the associa- 
 tion all those managers have continued to advance 
 the standard of entertainment given at their thea- 
 tres (with the exception, of course, of occasional 
 freaks). But then again, it should not be forgotten, 
 that while their entertainment has continued to im- 
 prove, they have continued to experience opposition. 
 And this op]30sition has been principally one man, 
 Mr. WILLIAM MORRIS. This man has for 
 years pushed a booking desk up against millions of 
 dollars of capital and made it win out. Since the
 
 l^auHetJille 21 
 
 first disruption of the Association, caused by the 
 White Rats episode eight years ago, Mr. Morris has 
 succeeded in either keeping these managers in oppo- 
 sition to each other, or furnishing outside competi- 
 ton, which caused a continuation of advancement 
 in Vaudeville. Before they all rejoined each other, 
 as fast as one of these managers for whom he did 
 the booking would be lured into the syndicate, as if 
 by magic other theatres would open their doors to 
 Vaudeville with Mr. Morris always in the van. 
 And when it was thought that his last shot had been 
 fired, that his last manager had capitulated, Lo! 
 next morning the public learned that Klaw & Er- 
 langer, with their many theatres were in the field 
 arrayed on the side of Mr. Morris. And though 
 this powerful syndicate eventually also retired, this 
 resourceful man is still in the game, fighting harder 
 than ever, with many theatres and, it is said, with 
 financial resources of millions of dollars behind him. 
 Surely, both the public and the performer owe him a 
 debt of gratitude. 
 
 But if one man can control many Theatres and 
 enlist the backing of millions of dollars of capital 
 in the face of great opposition, why is it that many 
 men can not control a few Theatres when their 
 independence and, in fact, their artistic salvation, 
 depends on it, and when they are in a position 
 to collectively produce the capital themselves? 
 
 But as a matter of fact, the stage people of Amer-
 
 22 q^p jLaDp 
 
 ica stand on much firmer ground than would seem 
 even by the above statement. They have an organi- 
 zation of several thousand members, "The White 
 Rats of America," with experienced theatrical men 
 at the helm, capable of the management of theatrical 
 enterprises. This organization has stood all the 
 tests of eight years, and has continued to grow and 
 profit by its experience. It is now in a position to 
 co-operate with the citizens of any city in the United 
 States in the control and management of Vaudeville 
 Theatres, and it is well known that in nearly every 
 city in America there are men who would be anxious 
 to invest in such profitable enterprises were they not 
 afraid of the power of Vaudeville monopoly, or if 
 they could be assured of not being handicapped in 
 the securing of talent. And this assurance The 
 White Rats of America are now in a position to 
 give, as well as to prove the practicability of theat- 
 rical co-operation. The plan of which is simple in 
 the extreme. The members of the White Rats by 
 paying into their own accounts a certain percentage 
 of their earnings, which they have heretofore paid 
 for booking purposes (but which, under this ar- 
 rangement, they receive shares for) would produce 
 a constantly growing fund to be used in the pur- 
 chase of 51 per cent, of the shares of Theatres in 
 different cities. This majority of shares in each 
 enterprise would forever preclude the possibility 
 of Vaudeville monopoly and, by giving the actors
 
 l^auDem'lIe 23 
 
 control of their own Theatres, prevent the merging 
 of opposite interests which invariably tend to 
 threaten their salaries and advancement ; and, as the 
 membership of the White Rats comprise or control 
 nearly all the leading acts on the Vaudeville stage 
 in the United States and Europe (it must be re- 
 membered that they are affiliated with all the theat- 
 rical organizations of Europe), they are in a posi- 
 tion to guarantee those managers and citizens with 
 whom they co-operate a supply of talent at least 
 equal to that which any opposition can possibly 
 secure. It is not intended that the organization 
 would run the Theatres, they would merely control 
 them for the purpose of their own protection. 
 
 The management or directorate of each Theatre 
 would, by agreement, have full power to run their 
 own Theatres in their own way, so long as they 
 gave clean and intellectual entertainment, and at the 
 same time have access to advice from the Theatrical 
 experts of the directorate of the organization. Be- 
 sides, the natural sentiment that favors co-operation 
 as opposed to monopoly, the home directors of the 
 Theatres and shareholders of same in each city 
 would have their following and influence, and be 
 able to get their side of the argument to the Vaude- 
 ville patrons of their own communities, and thereby 
 obviate the handicap that strangers sometimes suf- 
 fer when investing capital in new territory, where 
 they are looked upon in the light of invaders when
 
 24 0ip JlaDp 
 
 they enter in opposition to the established order 
 of things Theatrical. While the responsibility of 
 selecting the talent being removed from the organi- 
 zation to the home management would do away with 
 any cause for friction or internecine strife in the 
 organization as regards favoritism, partiality or 
 prejudice in the booking of acts. This idea has been 
 constantly preached by the present writer to the 
 Vaudeville artists of America for the last eight 
 years. It was one of the first ideas promulgated 
 after the inception of the order. It has now taken 
 root and will blossom, but, people on the outside 
 are now trying to do the very same thing with no 
 organization behind them whatsoever. Theatrical 
 co-operation between the Actor-Manager and play- 
 goer must come about. 
 
 It is the natural culmination of the commercial 
 trend of stage affairs that has evolved through many 
 years. Trusts, Syndicates and Managers' associa- 
 tions merely pave the way. 
 
 Even outside of the theatrical firmament in tlic 
 great affairs of earth, co-operation between so-called 
 masters and men it is also coming about. It is so 
 written in the book of the world. Surely it is time 
 to consider it seriously when so great an author- 
 ity as Andrew Carnegie in his new book "Problems 
 of To-day" gives it as the final solution this side of 
 socialism. The January World's Work Magazine 
 in quoting from Mr. Carnegie's book calls it a re-
 
 markable forecast of the continued improvement in 
 the position of labor, till profit sharing does its per- 
 fect work and the laborer and the capitalist become 
 the same man. Mr. Carnegie says "The joint-stock 
 form opens the door to the participation of labor as 
 shareholder in every branch of business. In this the 
 writer beHeves, says he, Hes the final and enduring 
 solution of the labor question. Nothing can stand 
 against the direct management of owners. We are 
 only pioneers whose duty is to start the move- 
 ment, leaving to our successors its full and free 
 development as human society advances. He tells 
 of the beginnings made by the Carnegie Steel Com- 
 pany many years ago by making from time to time 
 forty-odd young partners, who paid for their in- 
 terest in the business by their notes, payable only 
 out of the profits of the business. And he points 
 out that just as the mechanical world has changed 
 and improved, so the world of labor has advanced 
 from the slavery of the laborer to the day of his 
 absolute independence, and now to this day, when 
 he begins to take his proper place as "the capitalist- 
 partner of his employer. We may look forward 
 with the hope to the day when it shall be the rule for 
 the workman to be partner with capital." Mr. Car- 
 negie also quotes the great sociologist and philoso- 
 pher, John Stuart Mill, as follows : "The form of 
 association, however, which, if mankind continue to 
 improve, must be expected in the end to predomi-
 
 g^ gig Lang 
 
 nate, is not that which can exist between a capitalist 
 as chief and work-people without a voice in the 
 management, but the association of laborers them- 
 selves on terms of equality, collectively owning the 
 capital with which they carry on their operations^ 
 and working under managers elected and removable 
 by themselves." This is the same idea that the writer 
 of the present book has for many years been trying 
 to apply to the theatrical profession for the purpose 
 of removing it from the control of syndicates and 
 placing it in the joint control of the playgoer and 
 performer. And until this plan is consummated 
 and in working effect no great progress can be made. 
 And as the suggestion does not come from the 
 managers, it is up to the Actors. It is their move. 
 The situation is in their hands. All they need is 
 the courage of enterprise. For surely it must be 
 clear to them, that neither Mr. William Morris nor 
 any other successful independent manager could 
 hope to succeed were they not assured of the sup- 
 port and encouragement of My Lady Vaudeville, 
 for keeping open competition in her Temples. Who 
 is My Lady Vaudeville? As has been said, she is 
 destined to become the goddess of Theatredom. She 
 had lighted her torch on the highest hill. Who 
 are her subjects? They are members of an organ- 
 ization known as The White Rats of America, the 
 history of which same society the following story 
 aims faithfully to record.
 
 IPauDctiiUe 27 
 
 IV. 
 
 ^ ^ iy yr AKE me drunk, and have lots of fun 
 
 i T I ^^^^ "^^' '^^^^ '" ^'^^^ ^^^ young man 
 who had just been put through the 
 initiation. "Make me drunk, and have lots of fun 
 with me, because I am here at your service !" 
 
 A yell of laughter from a crowd of good fellows 
 assembled together in a lodge room, many years ago, 
 in London, England, was the spontaneous response 
 to the above remark, which was made in a speech 
 of thanks by the newly initiated member into the 
 Grand Order of Water Rats. Great hilarity had 
 been caused in putting him through the initiation, 
 which was full of the usual, harmless fun of good 
 fellowship, the overessence of high-flowing spirits 
 and merry hearts. And now the "making" was 
 over, and the newly made brother was called upon 
 for a speech. He was a tall, straight-backed youth, 
 with wavy hair and deep set eyes. His knock knees 
 and large feet had called forth many witty remarks 
 by the members, and caused great fun while he was 
 being put through the postures incident to the ritual
 
 28 ^p jLaDp 
 
 of initiation. "Make me drunk, and have lots of 
 fun with me," said he, "for, now that I am jf you, 
 I want to be zvith you, and I hope to be of you a 
 long tims, and I wish to be zvith you all the time that 
 I am of you. Everybody is more or less laughable, 
 if we oi.ly knew it. To-night is my turn. We will 
 laugh to-night at me, and everybody is. also drunk 
 with something: Some with power, some with 
 gold, some with fame, some with their own self-im- 
 portance. I have been too sober' for a long time, so 
 make me drunk with the spirit of yours, and have 
 lots of fun with me." 
 
 Of course, the speaker was joking, conscious of 
 his own physical irregularities, he was neverthe- 
 less capable of laughing good nature'dly at his lack 
 of symmetrical proportions, and so he joined in the 
 fun with great glee, and said : "That's right, boys, 
 make me drunk, and have lots of fun with me !" 
 
 His aptness to catch their whims, and laugh with 
 them at himself, made a good impression with the 
 merry little coterie of Bohemians, and he was voted 
 a good fellow by all the members. But though he 
 spoke in jest, the gods, who are better jokers than 
 mortals, heard his speech, and answered his plea. 
 For it was in this same fraternal hall that, all un- 
 consciously, he was made drunk with a new spirit 
 and purpose in life; and it was among these same 
 light-hearted merry makers that his ears were given 
 to drink of a wonderful, mystical song, and his
 
 l^auDetJflle 29 
 
 heart to feed on the hope that was born on Her- 
 mon's Holy Hill. 
 
 The Grand Order of Water Rats was a little so- 
 ciety of Music Hall Artists, numbering at this time 
 about forty members. Twelve of them had at first 
 drifted together through the circumstance of each 
 having won several sovereigns on the speed per- 
 formances of a little race horse called "The Water 
 Rat" (as James Finney, the then champion swim- 
 mer, was also facetiously called), and from which 
 said pony they took their name. The pony was 
 owned by Joe Elvin and Jack Lotto, and this twain 
 had previously apprised their confreres of the ad- 
 visability of getting "on" when he ran. And so 
 when the "good thing" "came off," or, rather, when 
 the good pony came in, they all met to celebrate the 
 event, and from this germ grew their Order. Meet- 
 ings, which at first were casual, became regular; 
 feelings, at first convivial, had become fraternal. 
 Other members of the profession were permitted to 
 join, the qualifications being high standing as a 
 good fellow, and recognition as an artist playing the 
 "Halls" of London. But quite conservatively did 
 they take in these new members. One objection by 
 any member, even with no reason given, constituted 
 disqualification of a proposed candidate. Hence, 
 they were all friends, and, oh! what merry-hearted 
 gentlemen they were, to be sure ! How generous to 
 their less fortunate brothers of the outer world!
 
 How happy in each other's society! How charit- 
 able to each other's faults! Joe Elvin, Dan Leno, 
 Wal Pink, Jack Lotto, Paul Martinetti, and some 
 half dozen others, at first; and then came Gene 
 Stratton, Paul Cinquivalli, Little Tich, R. G. 
 Knowles, Tennyson & O 'Gorman, Jim Maco, Will 
 Oliver, and the rest, till they numbered nearly a 
 half hundred in a few years. All Stars In the merry 
 world of Make Believe! All geniuses of laughter 
 and song, and all boys — just boys — forever! To 
 remain young is to be great, and it was a great mo- 
 ment when these merry fellows, who used to make 
 the best and worst of foggy old London, laugh and 
 forget, set apart a night to meet each other and re- 
 gale, for they soon began to study plans for the bet- 
 terment of their conditions, and the assistance of 
 those of their calling who were in need ; and, al- 
 though they were exclusive and small in numbers, 
 they were now a great fraternity nevertheless. Soon 
 they had rules of order, by-laws, etc., and all the 
 paraphernalia and ceremonials necessary to a de- 
 liberate assembly, as well as the spirit that goes to 
 make Brotherhood. Wal Pink was a word-wizard, 
 who had all London singing his songs and laughing 
 at his farces. He wrote them a fitting ritual, filled 
 with wit and song, and just enough of the oversoul 
 for some fellow to come along and understand ; and 
 this fellow came along. They remained exclusive, 
 not through pride, but because they knew their pro-
 
 l^auDetJille 31 
 
 fession, and they preferred to go slow and be sure. 
 This naturally quickened the desire of others to join 
 them. Such are the ways of men. It is always Ma- 
 homet and the Mountain over again. The founders 
 were real, and other real followers came knocking 
 at their gates, and were taken into the fold. Of 
 course, there were exceptions, but no emergency 
 could arise to make them careless lest they court 
 disaster. Primarily, there are no effete or factitious 
 aristocracies. A few real fellows have started 
 everything that is wholesome and lasting in the 
 world; and, whether it be a little society or a great 
 republic; whether it be a kingdom or a religion, it 
 remains great only so long as the original spirit 
 pervades it. 
 
 All of Christianity that is real is Christ — bare 
 headed, bare hearted, and in bare feet beneath the 
 stars; the rest is mockery. Moses is all Judaism. 
 All that is real in our own republic was put in the 
 Declaration and Constitution, and a few strong men 
 have preserved society during all times. But whether 
 we are great republics, or little Bohemian societies, 
 whom, to take seriously, seems incongruous, we are 
 still all men and women, and our affairs are inter- 
 esting in proportion to our nearness to each other, 
 and as we are all fools, most partial and patient to 
 our own kind, when we know them, let us under- 
 stand that in this same gay footlight realm of wink- 
 ing eyes and twinkling feet, there are great-hearted
 
 32 
 
 ®p JLaup 
 
 gentlemen who saunter through Hfe in the garb of 
 motley, and such were the founders of the Grand 
 Order of Water Rats of London, England; and 
 such was their condition on the night when our 
 young man who laughed at himself joined them. 
 
 •t^
 
 Til 10 Dromio.
 
 l^autietJille 33 
 
 01j^ Br^mui. 
 
 V. 
 
 THIS young fellow was a curious mixture of 
 many contradictions. He was about twen- 
 ty-two years of age. He performed in the 
 Music Halls. He called himself a mountebank, 
 even in after years when he achieved a certain suc- 
 cess. Had you asked him his status in the world, 
 he would have answered you with one word, 
 "Mountebank." So we will call him Dromio, Fool, 
 Busker, Punchinello, or what not. He was an 
 American, from somewhere in Michigan. His 
 father's people were from Vermont, and it was 
 said their forbears had arrived on the Mayflower. 
 His mother's people were Irish, which, perhaps, ac- 
 counts for the dualism of his nature, his violent im- 
 petuosity, his despondency, his ardent hopes, his 
 laughter, his blank despair, his tolerance, his im- 
 patience, and all the other infections of the blood 
 which fate instills into the veins of her human play- 
 things to make them dance in the merry-go-round 
 of life. But whatever may have been his natal 
 qualities, his early environment moulded him into a
 
 34 Q^g Lang 
 
 vagabond. His youth was spent among bootblacks 
 and newsboys, instead of at school, and he never 
 afterwards learned to be quite respectable. The in- 
 dustrial community where his early boyhood was 
 spent was composed of artisans from every clime. 
 It was also at that time a Mecca for crooks of every 
 calibre — bad men from all over the world, refugees, 
 fugitives, outcasts — a thousand or more of them in 
 a little boom town of twenty-odd thousand inhabi- 
 tants. Dromio fraternized with them all, and 
 learned their wiles and ways. He sang and danced 
 for them at the Free and Easy Halls. Before he 
 was fourteen he knew every trick and lure of the 
 nether world. However, being, as he often said 
 afterwards, a natural born fool, he never learned 
 to be a knave. He could neither rob men nor judge 
 them. He could not understand how men could do 
 so, and perhaps that is just why men could never 
 understand him. He was a natural mimic, and could 
 imitate with equal facility the dialects (.>f the Swedes 
 who worked in the sawmills and built the ships on 
 the river, or the English, Scotch, Welsh and Irish 
 boilermakers, blacksmiths and moulders, who made 
 the machinery for the ships and mills, or the French 
 Canadians, who cut down the pine trees in the woods 
 during the winter, and drove the logs down the 
 river in the springtime. He had had very little 
 schooling. His mother died when he was four years 
 of age. His father, a busy man who had married
 
 l^auDetJille 35 
 
 again, sent him to school, but he did not go very 
 often, yet he learned to read and write, and that 
 constituted about all of his schooling. He excelled 
 at swimming, rowing, and skating, and could box. 
 On the sawdust heaps, beside the lumber mills, he 
 learned to be an acrobat and contortionist. He 
 could execute any kind of a step dance, and pos- 
 sessed a good singing voice. In short, at fourteen 
 years of age he knew everything that a wild harum 
 scarum boy delights in, instead of wiser things that 
 he should have learned. And it was with this stock 
 in trade, at this age, that he ran away from home 
 and became a tramp and a mountebank. He wan- 
 dered all over the United States, beating his way on 
 trains, and mixing with all classes of wanderers. 
 He followed the county fairs and the races; he 
 joined circuses; became a circus clown, leaper and 
 tumbler; he made the announcements in the ring, 
 and performed in the concerts. Then he became a 
 negro minstrel, an actor in plays ; then a performer 
 on the variety stage. Before he was twenty years 
 of age he had gained some reputation on the variety 
 stage with a little partner named Quigg. 
 
 He began to write songs and little sketches for 
 the varieties, and, though he knew nothing of the 
 laws of music or metre, they were generally suc- 
 cessful. Up till now he has never read a book, 
 never seen a great play, or an opera. He had never 
 heard a sermon or an oration. He had never heard
 
 36 9d^ LaDj? 
 
 a great poem recited. He had never been in a pic- 
 ture gallery, or been taught anything directly by any- 
 body. Yet he became ambitious, and began to read 
 books, and his chums said he had gone mad. They 
 cited, as absolute proof of his mental unbalancing, 
 that he had actually commenced to read Shakes- 
 peare's plays ! They said "he's gone off his nut ; he's 
 reading Shakespeare!" Yet what a revelation those 
 plays were to him! He lived in a new world, all 
 brightened and beautiful. He devoured them from 
 an old volume, which he purchased for fifty cents 
 at a second-hand bookstall. He read them over and 
 over again. He laughed and wept with a delight 
 almost hysterical. He would wander into silent 
 woodland places and declaim passages from all tlie 
 masterpieces. Oh ! why had he not read them be- 
 fore? All his life had been wasted. And now his 
 manner changed. He looked about himself and into 
 his own heart. Who was he? What was he? Why 
 was he? The perennial questions when the soul 
 awakens. His voice took on a softer tone. He be- 
 gan to wonder, and wisli to be graceful. Yes, it is 
 a fact, a curious, laughable ridiculous fact, that this 
 same awkward, ungainly young vagabond did really 
 wish to be graceful in word and action. His ways 
 became gentle, and this change of manner made it all 
 the more evident to his confreres that he had really 
 gone mad. So they pitied him and lauglicd. Then 
 he bought more books, written by poets and philoso-
 
 l^audeWlIe 37 
 
 phers, and buried himself in them. He was now of 
 age, and a comedian named Ryland, who had a rep- 
 utation in the music halls of England, and whose 
 partner had died in America, asked him to go to 
 London and play with him in the English halls. 
 Dromio jumped at the chance, partly to get away 
 from his old environment, partly to see Europe and 
 study. So they sailed away to England. 
 
 All literature is biography ; all true autobiography 
 is confession. If we could truthfully learn what an 
 ass really thinks of himself, or an ant, for that mat- 
 ter, it would be interesting, and surely not less so, 
 a human being, even though he be young and fool- 
 ish. And so, as we have seen the outer shell of this 
 mountebank in the embryo, let us take a peep at the 
 inner part of him with his own eyes while he is 
 at sea. 
 
 He would tell you anything of himself for the 
 asking, because investigation had become a passion 
 with him, and he looked upon himself as a part of 
 the universal phenomena of life, which should be 
 an open book for the study of all mankind. To be 
 happy, men must know each other. He would be 
 simple. Men would call him a fool, but he had be- 
 come used to that. They had already said he was 
 mad. Man is just a part of night and day. In 
 proportion to his secretiveness is he unnatural, un- 
 generous, deceptive, ignorant. And yet blameless 
 for being so, because all terms are relative, and the
 
 38 ®P Ha Dp 
 
 secretive man is merely living in tlie stone age still. 
 The rose's perfume is its heart's confession. All the 
 stars of the universe, all the incomprehensible 
 beauty of the world, all phenomena of growth and 
 decay, are merely the expression of some higher 
 power trying to say, "This is me." Every true 
 poem that was ever written, every picture painted. 
 every melody that ever gushed from the heart of 
 genius, is some one trying to say, perhaps uncon- 
 sciously, THIS IS ME. But back of it all there is a 
 deeper cause that makes it so, and therefore the se- 
 cret of happiness is to laugh with the deeper cause 
 that makes fools of men, for the humor of the gods. 
 To keep your own self sweet, and clean, and kind, 
 not to judge, not to praise or blame, but just to laugh 
 with the deeper cause, this is to be in harmony. And 
 so, as our young friend preferred to bare his own 
 heart to the world, let us look at the secret springs 
 of his actions. 
 
 What was the cause of his evolution? For he 
 did evolve, this fool, even amid all the van- 
 ities, inanities, self-deception, vices, follies, poses 
 and poises peculiar to his calling; it was 
 still his queer fate to burst the chrysalis and 
 find his wings. To become an idealist and dreamer, 
 a worshiper of the truth that is beauty and the 
 beauty that is truth in all their forms of "nature's 
 naked loveliness." And to be brave to express what 
 he felt in the face of hollow-hearted ridicule, defeat,
 
 I^aunetiille 39 
 
 disaster and death. He could neither applaud nor 
 pity himself, because he believed that man did not 
 merit either praise or blame. ''The Midsummer 
 Night's Dream" had unfolded to him the whole 
 scheme of human life. Surely he thought some 
 angel, bent on revealing the humor of the prompt- 
 ers behind the veil, must have guided the pen that 
 wrote this comedy. Perhaps no one ever inter- 
 preted its meaning so clearly as this same wander- 
 ing fool. To him it was the most real of the Shakes- 
 peare plays ; therefore, the most laughable. Laugh- 
 ter of the right kind was holy to him. All the mys- 
 tery of our misunderstandings, all the mysticism of 
 human existence is unfolded in that evanescent, iri- 
 descent dream. Words may not explain or interpret 
 it. Life is there for those privileged to read the 
 symbols. Dream swindled life. The jealous Fairy 
 King, and Puck, his errand boy, with whom you 
 may laugh, if you know him. Emerson was wrong 
 when he said life was a comedy without laughter. 
 You may laugh, if you know the gods, and their 
 ways and are willing. 
 
 To be great is to be misunderstood ; but you must 
 try to be understood. This will, however, insure 
 a misunderstanding of you — and "the rest is si- 
 lence." Such are the ways of the invisible labelers. 
 
 What strange divergencies there are in human 
 fates. How many million years between this man 
 and that 'vho talk together on the busy street, or
 
 40 ^p JLaDp 
 
 follow the same calling. This man counts dollars 
 all his life, and dies with his ears mistnned to the 
 jingle of gold, and here his brother, masked in the 
 same kind of flesh and bones, picks a fossil from 
 the ledge of a mountain, looks at it, and tells you 
 the age of the earth. Another extracts a drop of 
 your blood, and tells you it is the universe in minia- 
 ture. On what slender threads do hang our des- 
 tinies. "The Midsummer Night's Dream" made 
 our Mountebank a poet. Ye gods ! A poet without 
 words or the laws of words. Where were they to 
 be found? In dictionaries and grammars. Well, 
 he would have them. He would study. He would 
 delve in the ologies, onomies, and isms. He was 
 still young. He would learn about the stars and 
 the laws of the universe. Even an ass may learn 
 something when struck hard. He had been struck 
 hard. Let them laugh and call him mad. He would 
 be crazy in his own way. Bottom was an ass and a 
 weaver. He was an ass at bottom, he would be a 
 weaver as well, a word weaver. He would work 
 hard, he would study, he would fit himself for a 
 better place. His personality seemed to invite ag- 
 gression. Very well, outside of his woik he would 
 keep it in seclusion for awhile, and try to learn 
 something. He would grow. He would get more 
 books and learn. He would study. He would 
 learn to make men think and feel. So far he had 
 only made them laugh. Well, that seemed more to
 
 him now than before, but he would learn to express 
 himself. He must study in real earnest. He had 
 seen life with his own eyes; now he would see it 
 through the eyes of the great, who had recorded 
 their impressions in books. Were there more writ- 
 ers like Shakespeare? he wondered. Perhaps not. 
 Anyway, he would find out; he would read them 
 all. Perhaps he would become a great actor. Or, 
 perhaps, after he had educated himself, he would 
 leave the stage and become a great teacher of some 
 kind. Ah! what funny dreams we have when we 
 are young, when we feel the first thrill of mental 
 blossoming! Here was a vigorous, visionary young- 
 vagabond, a boy in man's guise, mapping out a ca- 
 reer of greatness, and willing to fit himself for it 
 when it was to be his queer destiny forever to wear 
 the ass's head and weave the wordy yarn. To be 
 laughed at always, somewhat in contempt, and to 
 almost afright everybody except Titania, the Little 
 Gold Lady, the fairy queen of his life's brief dream. 
 No wonder he laughed at himself. "What fools 
 these mortals be," says Puck, and Puck is right. 
 Whatsoever seems to be such and so to them is the 
 reverse, or nearly so, in the eyes of the winking 
 gods. Pucks of fairyland, who make you think you 
 are this, and then label you something else, and 
 knowing you are neither one, sit down and laugh 
 at you. They are the authors of all our actions, and 
 their sense of humor is sublime. If the outer husk
 
 42 a^p JLatip 
 
 were the true expression of the inner soul, vampires 
 would not be masked in angel faces, or grafters have 
 happy smiles. There were times when Dromio 
 thought that every sign of him in the eyes of men 
 belied some inner note of his being, as if he had 
 undertaken a contract prenatally or been condeiiuied 
 before birth to a desire to express himself through 
 these antithetical signs. To make himself understood 
 through contradictions in spite of men's natural 
 faith in their own eyes. At least, such were the 
 intensity of his hopes, and the impossibility of their 
 fulfilment, that they gave birth to such fancies which 
 in turn made him laugh with the Robin good fel- 
 lows who planned it so, and say: "I am in league 
 with Puck against myself, for some purpose of the 
 play. I know not the why or the wherefore." 
 However, he did not talk in this vein now, nor for 
 many years to come, not until the queerness of his 
 fate was burned into his heart. 
 
 Just now he is musing on the deck of the steamer 
 and watching the aquatic acrobats, the billows, leap 
 over each other while the good ship swaggers like 
 a tipsy fairy on her way to Liverpool. He wondered 
 why the fates had let him grow to manhood before 
 opening his mind to the importance of its own de- 
 velopment. At his age all men who were meant for 
 anything had their minds stored with the knowl- 
 edge of the ages and their brains disciplined for 
 prompt action and sustained effort. The same as he
 
 l^autietJille 43 
 
 had trained his muscles to fight, swim, run, jump, 
 leap or tumble. While other men had acquired the 
 intellectual weapons to fight the battle of life, he 
 had been fooling his life away learning the tricks 
 of a mountebank; and now this sudden thirst for 
 knowledge that changed him from a gladsome per- 
 son in the eyes of his companions to a butt for all 
 their jokes. This sudden heart hunger for a sym- 
 pathy that he could never find, what was the cause 
 of it all? From a weakly boy thrown among out- 
 casts, he had nevertheless built himself into a large 
 frame of a man of brawn, muscle and agility, while 
 the pageant of the world, earth's living panorama, 
 had passed by without his paying much attention 
 to it. He had seen it as in a semi-dream. He 
 thought of what a sorry figure he was sure to cut in 
 starting to school in the college of the world at his 
 age, and yet he must do so. He laughed at himself, 
 but there was a sadness in his laugh. His transfor- 
 mation had softened and saddened him. 
 
 The door that reveals the splendor of the world, 
 had been thrown open to him, and the glory of the 
 spectacle frightened and almost stifled him. Every- 
 thing became very wonderful. All life was a miracle, 
 full of millions of miracles. A leaf of grass was a 
 very wonderful thing — a miracfe — in fact, as great 
 a miracle as a star. The foam on the waves that 
 passed the ship, the ship itself, the men and women 
 on it, the ocean and the stars, all miracles! The
 
 44 ®P ILatip 
 
 stars! Why, he had scarcely ever noticed them be- 
 fore. They were perhaps the most beautiful things 
 God has made. He could gaze on them forever 
 with delight. He tried to talk to some of the pas- 
 sengers about them. They were not interested. 
 They had .seen them before, perhaps. But he was 
 seeing them through new eyes, the eyes of his soul. 
 Yes, the world had suddenly become beautiful to 
 him, and for that very reason he seemed to be a dis- 
 cordant note in this same beautiful world. He won- 
 dered why he was confused and perplexed, and well 
 he might. Man is little known to himself, and less to 
 his brother man. If this were the life story of the 
 fool, it would perhaps be interesting from a psycho- 
 logical viewpoint to speculate as to whether this 
 metamorphosis of him was merely the awakening of 
 his latent self, or whether some wandering soul, that 
 had already paid with much suffering for an ap- 
 preciation of beauty, had taken up its abode in his 
 cosmos. 
 
 However, this is not the story of his life, but a 
 hasty glance at his many-sided character, which 
 the exigencies of our tale force us to take, in order 
 that we may say what manner of man did thus and 
 so, under conditions that would make men of a less 
 foolish and creduloils nature act in an opposite way. 
 
 Arriving in London, he played at the music halls 
 with his partner, and was a success. After the anx- 
 iety of making his appearance in a new country had
 
 l^auDetJilIe 45 
 
 subsided, he gathered unto himself all the books he 
 could buy, and devoured them; philosophers, scien- 
 tists, poets. He had a quick apprehension, a prodig- 
 uous memory, and he hoped to make himself worthy 
 of any position to which he might later aspire. His 
 life was a prayer of gratitude for the accident that 
 had awakened him. He was always alone. No one 
 ever spoke an encouraging word to him. Everybody 
 said he was a fool, and many thought him mad. 
 Each night he played at two or three different music 
 halls with his partner, entertaining the audiences 
 with the most primitive kind of nonsense and bal- 
 derdash, and by day he studied the masters who 
 have called us from our dead selves into conscious- 
 ness. His favorites were Shakespeare, Shelley, Byron, 
 Keats, Emerson, Marcus Aurelius, Carlyle, Goethe, 
 Schiller, Balzac, Hugo, Moliere, Dickens, and Ros- 
 seau. Of course, he overstudied, and fell into the us- 
 ual melancholia of all overzealous young students. 
 He became more perplexed and mystified than ever, 
 and fearfully despondent. He began to wonder if, 
 after all, men were not right in their opinion of 
 him. Perhaps he was insane, and, anyway, if not, 
 he was at a terrible disadvantage. He began to 
 depreciate himself. The attitude of his fellows made 
 all his virtues look as faults thrice magnified. He 
 was ashamed of the stuff he did at the halls, and it 
 became hard labor to him. And what was stranger 
 still, he was at the same time almost ashamed of
 
 46 
 
 6@p ILaDp 
 
 aspiring to something better. How nearly impos- 
 sible it is sometimes to escape from our environ- 
 ment. Here was a fellow hypersensitive to slights 
 and sneers, quick to resent insult or injury, strong 
 to defend himself, and who yet was, nevertheless, 
 worn into a state wherein his manner became a sort 
 of a mute apology for daring to hope to fit himself 
 for something better, for daring to study or aspire 
 in any way, and almost for being alive. But he 
 shook himself together. He had hitched his wagon 
 to a star, and he went his own way. He would try 
 to be kind and dare to be real, and he would work, 
 and watch and wait.
 
 I^autieuille 47 
 
 VI. 
 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON once delin- 
 eated a legend, which tells of a monk of the 
 Holy Orders, and the Song of a Nightin- 
 gale. The Stevenson story is not at hand, but the 
 legend is somewhat as follows: 
 
 In the olden days, when the world was young, a 
 good monk once wandered from his monastery into 
 a wooden glen, where he heard a bird singing a 
 beautiful song. The bird was a nightingale. The 
 good monk, who had been poring over his breviary 
 as he sauntered on, listened at first almost uncon- 
 sciously to the song of the bird, and presently he 
 stopped, and listened in earnest, for it was the most 
 beautiful music he had ever heard. After a while 
 he^ thought that he began to understand the melody. 
 Then he sat down, and listened, and listened, and 
 listened; and when he returned to his monastery 
 there was no one there who knew him, except one 
 very old man, for he had been absent fifty years. 
 
 What a dear, sweet, old tale. Filled with thoughts
 
 48 ^p JLatip 
 
 of the woodland, and the lethean mysteries of life's 
 deeper interest, when viewed through the eyes of the 
 soul. Here is the whole desideratum of human life : 
 Absorbing interest; the interpretation of beauty 
 through any of the manifold mysterious expressions 
 of love; Love, speaking through the voice of life. 
 And of all nature's myriad-formed, many-voiced 
 phenomena, what higher symbol tlian the nightin- 
 gale, is there, this side of the stars? How could 
 the absorbed monk count the hours, the years, or the 
 centuries, for that matter, when they all flew by in 
 a moment? He only knew that he was listening, 
 listening, listening to a song, so sweet, that he must 
 try to understand — for the song of Hope was the 
 song that he heard, and the nightingale was the sym- 
 bol of truth. 
 
 Other men hear it in other ways, and to them 
 the clarions of the battle call. To those who will 
 listen, life is as a moment, and deatli but a door, 
 leading to some other star, where hope whispers, 
 "songs are still beautiful," and love listens still to 
 the story of old. Perhaps only those zvill listen who 
 are destined to understand ; but surely for them the 
 world undergoes a phantasmagorical change, and 
 they themselves are born over again. All the poi- 
 sons of the past, all the hate, scorn and contempt are 
 burnt out in the fire of a new love. The masks fall 
 from the faces of all the people ; and men and women 
 play tlu'ir reril parts in the sublime drama. For it
 
 l^auDetJille 49 
 
 is a drama ; it is a play so sublime, that earth's won- 
 der workers of all time, were their intellects 
 blended, could not fathom the heart of its mystery. 
 You know this when you hear the song; and then 
 you know that you have heard something not heard 
 by all, and you wonder why you did not hear it be- 
 fore. Why! half the world is ringing with it! Nor 
 can the jingle of gold, nor the song of fame, drown 
 it. It is yours. Your being is permeated with it. 
 It sings from the stars, and slumbers in women's 
 eyes; in the laughter of children, in man's actions, 
 in the flowers, the market place, the streets, the 
 woods, everywhere! — and only the few are listen- 
 ing. You know you are one of the few. You call 
 to the others to listen, but they only laugh, and run 
 on, shouting: "Fool! Fool! Fool!" You may 
 meet another who has heard an echo of the song, 
 in a different way from your way, perhaps, but still 
 you know that he has heard. He has burnt his way 
 through the world to you. He is youis Oh ! yes, he is 
 yours. Both of you may be playing only parts in 
 the chorus of the great drama; both of you have 
 heard many times before that it was all a play; all 
 the seers have said so, in one way or another, and 
 you thought that you understood; but now you 
 know that you did not understand, but why you did 
 not understand you do not know. You know the 
 story of the song may never be fully told to the 
 ears of man. You know that all the bright com-
 
 so ^p JLaDp 
 
 rades of yore, who listened and wove their words 
 into spells, succeeded in muttering only a few in- 
 articulate words and passed on, and yet you will 
 try to interpret its mystery. Even you, with hope 
 bursting your heart strings, and the foolish lure in 
 your eyes. 
 
 Well, go out into the world, and tell your dreams, 
 if you must. Listen to your foolish bird. But re- 
 member this : You must pay. You must pay. You 
 must burn yourself out in a world of iron and gold 
 — in a world that turns a deaf ear to your song. You 
 must paint for eyes that are blind. If you are of the 
 elect, then it follows that only the few may know 
 you. Who else may understand? And yet, in this 
 respect, you may be justified. If the world of men 
 is worth improving, perhaps for a divine reason 
 were you permitted to hear the song; for only those 
 who have listened have made it possible that you 
 may dare. Only those who have listened to the 
 nightingale. It is a plaintive strain; at times, in a 
 minor key; but its theme is hope, the bright, the 
 beautiful. All through the night of the ages it sings 
 of the dawn. The ever coming dawn. Time is a 
 delusion. Ten thousand years are less than a mo- 
 ment in eternity, and since time began this song has 
 been calling to us; calling us from the depths of the 
 earth and sea, into the light of the sun and the 
 stars. Calling us from shells, and caves, and trees, 
 up through the myriad stages of evolution, into man-
 
 l^auDeDille 5^ 
 
 hood and womanhood. Calling us from subconscious- 
 ness into consciousness. Calling us into brother- 
 hood, to teach us who we are, and still calling, call- 
 ing, calling. We call the song by many names : phil- 
 osophy, art, science, progress, truth and beauty; but 
 it is the same voice all the time, struggling into di- 
 vers expressions, through the instrument man, and 
 smaller things. Pope or pariah may hear it; em- 
 peror or eremite may listen, but no slave may voice 
 its echo until his soul be free. It is as much a sub- 
 ject of science as of sermon. The spirit of all re- 
 search ; it is the higher voice of the unknown calling 
 death into life, and life's myriad forms, higher and 
 higher, lifting veil after veil. 
 
 And so our mountebank, who had now become a 
 sort of a derelict air ship, floating among the clouds, 
 a flotsam on the skyey ether of dreams, one night 
 heard the song of this wonderful bird, and was 
 made whole. It fell upon his spirit as softly as ce- 
 lestial dew upon the face of the dead, and awakened 
 him to new life and effort. Now, he knew why he 
 had been awakened, why he had worn his mask 
 through the world. It was this that he had uncon- 
 sciously sought for all his life; it was this that he 
 had been prepared to hear. It was only an echo, 
 faint at first, but it reached his inner heart, and de- 
 veloped until it took possession of him. Yes, it was 
 just an echo, but it was an echo of the soul of the 
 world. It was the Niglitingale's Song of Brotherly
 
 52_ ^V ilatig 
 
 Love, transposed from the lute strings of Israfel's 
 angel heart into the voice of fellowship, and sung 
 by his half-mad nomad comrades, for some listener 
 to hear. 
 
 And Dromio listened and heard. 
 
 Though we be ever together, most of us are 
 hidden from each other until our work reveals our 
 dreams. 
 
 When Dromio joined the Order of Water Rats, 
 less was known of him than of any member of the 
 Fraternity. He was looked upon, even by those in- 
 clined to be charitable in their judgment, as a freak- 
 ish sort of a fool, who kept to himself and studied 
 dry books. Still, no one objected to him, and his 
 partner, dear old Cliff Ryland, was enthusiastic, 
 and sounded his praises above his eccentricities. So 
 he was permitted to join. Had he brought to them 
 the old, laughing, unawakened young vagabond he 
 had left behind in America, he would possibly have 
 ingratiated himself into their good graces at once, 
 but something had softened him into a negative 
 upon which the world was being painted in new 
 colors. Well knowing their disposition, he at first 
 suspected that they had accepted him just for fun. 
 But this was not so, as they rightly held their little 
 order, with all its joviality, in an esteem too high 
 for such a purpose; and though some incidents oc- 
 curred to strengthen his first suspicions, he soon
 
 l^auDetJflle 53 
 
 grew to know them better, and they in turn saw him 
 with clearer eyes. 
 
 What impressed him most among them was the 
 oneness of spirit that pervaded their meetings, and 
 the miraculous change that could be wrought in a 
 crowd of merry makers by fraternity. In their play 
 world there were the usual jealousies, vanities and 
 feelings, which always accompany the quest of ap- 
 plause and guffaws. But here all was harmony, san- 
 ity and good fellowship. Surely, here was a better 
 world — this other side of themselves. 
 
 And so in his walks he began to dream of a new 
 life. He asked himself why, if the conditions of a 
 small band of music hall artists were so greatly im- 
 proved by fellowship, should not all the entertainers 
 of the world come together in one great fraternity? 
 And this idea began to haunt him, until it consumed 
 him. The magnitude of the dream did not dawn 
 upon him at once. It came gradually. It was an 
 accretion. It grew. In the little society he began 
 to have something to say, and he was listened to 
 with respect. The friends he made among them 
 made life more pleasant, and not for him alone was 
 this enhanced happiness. Many good brothers met 
 there who had been acquainted all their lives, but 
 just acquainted — that was all; but they, under the 
 inspiring influence of brotherhood, had grown to 
 know and love each other, instead of going their 
 ways through life, meeting often in their little play
 
 54 •_ Q^g Lapp 
 
 world, but with never a glimpse into each other's 
 hearts. 
 
 He wished that this state of affairs could be uni- 
 versal — at least, among the members of his merry 
 tribe: the mountebanks of the earth. Why could 
 they not all be transformed and lifted up from where 
 he had left them at the parting of the ways? Poor 
 dreaming fool ! — he had yet to learn many things of 
 the ways of destiny and the human soul. 
 
 He was considered by all the members to be too 
 radical, and yet his friends increased. And when 
 the ritual of the Order, being deemed too frivolous 
 for present purposes, needed revising, and as Wal 
 Pink, the author of the first one, was away, the 
 honor of revisor fell to Dromio. He wrote a new 
 one, retaining the spirit of the original, and when he 
 read it to the members assembled, great was their 
 'enthusiasm. 
 
 Brother Pink, who had then returned, attended the 
 meeting, and proposed that it be adopted as the rit- 
 ual of the society. The proposition was carried 
 unanimously, and thus it came about that this same 
 sad-faced fool, who had joined them in laughing 
 at himself a year or so ago, now gave them that 
 5*^me foolish heart for the heart of their Order. 
 
 Yet, in truth, he gave them only that which they 
 had unconsciously taught him, and what he had all 
 unconsciously learned, m one moment, when he 
 stood alone in a friendless world of darkness and
 
 I^autietiille 55 
 
 doubt, and heard within their Fraternal Hall the 
 Song of Brotherly Love. 
 
 And now he met The Little Gold Lady ; and mar- 
 ried her; and everything in the world became still 
 more beautiful! He had left his partner, to go on 
 the dramatic stage, but he could not secure an en- 
 gagement anywhere. He tramped the streets of 
 London several months, visiting the agencies, but 
 there was nothing for him. How absurd, for a 
 Music Hall Mummer to aspire to Histrionic Hon- 
 ors! He wrote poems, which never found their 
 way into print, so he read them to The Little Gold 
 Lady, and impersonated Shakespeare characters be- 
 fore her startled, but sympathetic, eyes. Soon they 
 began to starve together, so he went back to the 
 Halls alone. He sang songs and told stories. Again 
 he was a success; but the managers, knowing his 
 condition, offered him a starvation salary, and be- 
 cause he did not accept it at once, in great gratitude, 
 they eventually would not engage him at any price. 
 
 He was blacklisted everywhere. 
 
 He would occasionally appear at a smoking con- 
 'cert, for which he would receive one guinea; or sell 
 a song for a few shillings to some brother profes- 
 sional who perhaps never thought of singing it. But 
 what, he would say, are a few shillings in Bohemia, 
 when a brother soldier in the army of Art and 
 Heart is crippled on the field? What are a few 
 shillings, forsooth, or a few pounds, for that mat-
 
 56 
 
 ®p LaDp 
 
 ter, or several thousand pounds, if you will, and 
 ever}' guilder coined from your own heart's blood, 
 when your own true Brother is in need? And now 
 there was a bay window in Brixton Road, from 
 which looked out the Little Gold Lady daily for 
 Dromio to return with his few shillings, and they 
 were sure of "Kippers" for breakfast the next morn- 
 ing. They lived on bread and jam and marmalade, 
 and the honey of the moon.
 
 The Little Gold Lady.
 
 l^auDeUille 57 
 
 VII. 
 
 IT was about this time that Dromio met Mantwa 
 — Michael Mantwa; Mantwa, the merry; 
 Mantwa, the brilliant; Mantwa, the wise, the 
 witty, semi-cynical Mantwa. He appeared to 
 Dromio Hke a demi-god, or semi-devil — Dromio 
 could never tell you which, for Mantwa came into 
 his life at this time, suddenly, like an apparition, 
 or a flash of lightning amid the fogs of London. 
 Wonderful, but dangerous, Mantwa! Dangerous 
 to what? Dangerous to faith. Mantwa was 
 for facts. Dromio for dreams. He was Dro- 
 mio's anthithisis. He saw everything as Dr('»mio 
 saw it not, believed everything that Dromio believed 
 not in. Where Dromio saw future milleniums. and 
 cities founded on Brotherly Love, Mantwa saw at 
 the end of every dream only disaster, devastation, 
 chaos, death. He was Dromio's anti ego. If he 
 believed that some cruel destiny ruled the world, 
 and that the sun and moon, the splendor of the uni- 
 verse, the ecstacies of passion, the joys of conscious- 
 ness, and all life's pleasures, were mere lures for
 
 58 ^p jLaDp 
 
 dupes, still he smiled, and smiled, and was really 
 happy. His heart was never weighed down with 
 that sentimentality that made the Dromio such a 
 sad proposition. And though Mantwa looked ever 
 dawnward, yet he saw darkness beyond. He be- 
 lieved in progression, and that, do what you may, 
 the fittest would survive. He believed in the fittest. 
 He looked upon man as a machine, capable of being 
 improved, of course, but he believed that as thought 
 has always been only for the few, and expression 
 for the fewer still, so it would continue to be, and 
 that if mankind were to reach the top of the hill of 
 evolution, we would descend again on the other side, 
 if for no other reason than simply because the earth 
 is round. In short, Mantwa was a patrician, who 
 viewed the world from an intellectual hill of his 
 own. Like Disraeli's Sidonia, his mind seemed to 
 be instructed on all subjects, and his opinions 
 formed. The spirit of mockery was in his speech, 
 and made him appear cynical. Nonchalant of man- 
 ner, easy of address, a seeming freedom from preju- 
 dice or passion on every topic, made Dromio think 
 him something almost supernatural. They were of 
 the same age, and when Mantwa burst upon his 
 horizon, the circumstance was to Dromio like a 
 new dream. If there were times afterwards when 
 Mantwa appeared like a nightmare, why, that is an- 
 other chapter. He looked like Hope, but he preached 
 Disaster. However, his influence on Dromio's edu-
 
 l^auDeUille 59 
 
 cation was wonderful. He seemed to know every- 
 thing and everybody, and he took the fool by the 
 hand, as if he had been a little child, and led him 
 through the galleries of Europe, explaining the 
 works of the masters : painters, musicians, poets, 
 architects. Dromio learned something of each from 
 Mantwa. Mantwa was all critical, Dromio all cred- 
 ulity. One day the Fool ventured to tell him of his 
 dream of an organization that would fraternize the 
 "Merry Makers." Mantwa then undertook to dis- 
 suade him from any such project. "Surely," said 
 Mantwa, "you are not thinking seriously of fra- 
 ternizing all the Pro's of the Music Hall world, or, 
 as you call them, the Vaudevillians?" "That is just 
 what I am thinking of doing," said the Fool. "But 
 peoi)le will think you are insane!" "Well," said 
 Dromio, "that's an old joke to me. so 1 guess I can 
 stand it. I have a message to deliver to them. I 
 want to teach them the power of Brotherly Love, 
 and the value of their collective strength ; also, some 
 of the wonderful things that you have taught me: 
 the lives of the masters, their work, their inspira- 
 tions, the spirit that held them true in the dark 
 hours of their lives. I want to teach them that their 
 profession can be made a high calling, respected by 
 all the peoples of the earth. In short, I wish to edu- 
 cate them in the true sense of the word. Every- 
 body is imperfectly educated. These fellows of 
 mine know more about certain phases of life than
 
 6o ^|) JLatip 
 
 most college professors. My desire is to awaken 
 them to the value of what they know, and teach 
 them the value of that which they do not know. 
 Their profession should belong to themselves, as it 
 belonged in the beginning, and not to so-called im- 
 presarios or directors. It is they whom the people 
 come to see, not the managers. I want them to own 
 themselves, their art and all its enterprises ; then they 
 will be in a way to acquire some real knowledge of 
 this ant hill on which they sing, laugh, and dance 
 out their lives for the edification of its other inhab- 
 itants. And as the beginning can only be made by 
 collective effort, it is my purpose to organize them 
 all over the earth, in a spirit so sacred that, no mat- 
 ter what flag they caper under, their hearts will be 
 loyal to their own wandering tribe, and its cause 
 their own uplifting." 
 
 Mantwa smiled incredulously. 
 
 "Well," said he, **I have heard of many dreams, 
 but this is the wildest yet! I myself will begin to 
 have fears for your sanity if you continue raving. 
 The accomplishment of such a task is impossible, 
 for every reason in the world, but more so for you 
 than almost anyone else. In the first place, as none 
 of your fellows understand you, you will be 
 guyed off the face of the earth. Because you were 
 ambitious enough to wish to rise out of your envir- 
 onment, you appear to your fellows, who love that 
 same environment, as ridiculous, hence they will
 
 have no faith in you, and because you have dared to 
 seek the light, fate has labeled you as a fool. 
 
 "But let us say that you were eminently successful 
 in your profession, or even some great man, with 
 iron in your blood, like Caesar, Napoleon, or other 
 men who conquered worlds, this task would still be 
 impossible, because they will not understand you; 
 they will not want to understand you. They are 
 young, careless, happy, drunk with applause, intox- 
 icated with themselves. They will have only ridicule 
 for you, and no man can withstand ridicule. Dream- 
 ers are always damned by those who they would 
 fain try to save. After nineteen hundred years of 
 constant preaching, men have yet to learn the Gold- 
 en Rule. Christ was not a business man. He was 
 credulous. He thought man could be taught good- 
 ness. But you will find that man's experience with 
 his brother makes him skeptical, and your fellows of 
 Follyland are the skeptically extreme. Then, besides, 
 it is not as if you were appealing to, and depending 
 upon a crowd of craftsmen, or a gang of laborers, 
 each of which receives the same wage and has the 
 same social status, and a more or less similar mental 
 apparatus, combined with a sort of a dogged belief 
 that they are victims of fate, and are being imposed 
 upon by their masters, and are therefore always 
 ready to listen to a leader who promises to better 
 their conditions. Such people have all to hope for, 
 and all to gain, while your overestimated and much-
 
 62 Q^p JLaDp 
 
 applauded confreres are the highest paid people in 
 the world. What I mean is: they receive more in 
 return for the little they give than any class of 
 people on earth. Was it not Pinero who said of 
 them: 'Theirs is the wit of the washtub and the 
 pathos of the pantry?' " 
 
 This last shaft was too much for Dromio. He 
 turned crimson, and his eyes blazed ! 
 
 "Whoever said that is not only an arrogant fool, 
 but a narrow, unsympathetic ass!" he cried, "for 
 he uses what little brains nature has bestowed upon 
 him to ridicule his less fortunate fellows ; therefore, 
 he is not v^'orthy of those brains! Oh! what con- 
 tempt I have for a scornful person, whom chance 
 has graced with a little fancy, and who, instead of 
 using whatever little gifts he may have for the up- 
 lift of his brothers, stands aloof on his little mole 
 hill and scoffs in pretty epigrams, saying in effect, 
 'Behold ! how witty and clever and remote am I !' " 
 
 "Well," said Mantwa, "your own mimic world 
 is filled with just this class of spirits, who would 
 spare no brother's feelings if they could make a few 
 others guffaw. For heaven's sake, Dromio, go and 
 study the law of equity! In this life we get just 
 what we give. Your people laugh at the world, and 
 the world laughs at them; they ridicule men and 
 women for money, and the world flings them its 
 pennies and shrugs its shoulders. 
 
 "But let us forget the ethics of it, and look at tlie
 
 l^auDetJille 63 
 
 practical side of your wild scheme, or dream, or 
 plan, or whatever you choose to call it. As I said, 
 they are not laborers with the same mentality or 
 social status as each other. How are you ever going 
 to reconcile into one Brotherhood people of such 
 divergencies of tastes and temperament as exist in 
 your profession — especially in America, where I be- 
 lieve it is your aim to first put your plan into exe- 
 cution? They not only come into the show world 
 from many different walks of life, but as each one 
 makes his success, he at once holds himself as a sort 
 of a superior being to those who have not as yet 
 received the same amount of applause, guffaws or 
 money. They all receive different salaries, and 
 those who receive less are jealous of those who re- 
 ceive more; those who have not made their hits 
 look upon those who have as flukes." 
 
 "Yes," said Dromio, "but I have seen how a 
 Brotherhood alters all this : how it brings tliem from 
 the narrow centre of self, and makes them look out- 
 ward on the world." 
 
 "Well, you never can convince me," said Mantwa. 
 
 "I am sorry you are so prejudiced," said Dromio. 
 "I am sorry to see you look upon any class through 
 the myopia of intellectual pride. I know them to be 
 the soul of charity. The members of no other call- 
 ing in the world are so ready to assist each other 
 when in need. The members of no other calling in 
 the world do so much in the way of charity to alle-
 
 64 9^p JLaDp 
 
 viate the pecuniary distress of the suffering ones of 
 earth. The members of no other calHng in the 
 world are so generous and open hearted, or so char- 
 itable to the faults of each other. They are the 
 Knights of song and laughter, and by fraternity 
 they will have still more power to do good, and still 
 more power to improve themselves in those graces, 
 the absence of which you so deeply deplore." 
 
 "Bah! you are talking through your hat!" said 
 Mantwa. "I did really have some hope for you be- 
 fore you became obsessed by this mania. You will 
 soon be a socialist, and want to reform the work! ! 
 But remember this — ^you are not a Shelley, and 
 though you have learned a few things, your status 
 is still that of a jester, and in proportion to the mag- 
 nitude of your dream will you be considered by all 
 sensible men as a Fool. I am getting tired. Good 
 day." 
 
 Mantwa took his hat and departed. Dromio's 
 heart sank, and he sat for hours with his chin rest- 
 ing on his hand, dreaming and wondering. He al- 
 most worshipped Mantwa, and he hated to see the 
 bond between them lessened. But this was the rock 
 upon which they split. It was the old proposition 
 as to whether a man should use his fellows, or try to 
 be of use to them. 
 
 They met seldom after this, and when they did 
 meet, it was only to open the old warfare. Mantwa 
 pitied the Fool, and the Fool was sorry for Mantwa.
 
 l^auDetJiIIe 65 
 
 The Fool studied, wrote, and dreamed, and strug- 
 gled for a few more years in London, and then one 
 day Joe Elvin came to him and, handing him a 
 handful of sovereigns, said: 
 
 "Dromio, go home to America. They don't seem 
 to want you here. Go home, old boy, and come back 
 again when they are ripe for you. We will take 
 care of the Little Gold Lady until you ran send for 
 her. Come down to the Lodge next Sunday night 
 and say au revoir." 
 
 At the next meeting of the Water Rats, against 
 all his protestations and tears, they voted him his 
 fare to America, and a weekly allowance for the 
 Little Gold Lady, until such time as he could send 
 for her; and they did it in such a way as to try to 
 persuade him that he was a king, instead of a beg- 
 gar. They toasted him, and sang "He's a jolly good 
 fellow!" They wished him good luck and God 
 speed, and the following week he kissed the Little 
 Gold Lady good-bye, and sailed for America, with 
 his cai^go of dreams.
 
 66 Qip £atip 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IN America Dromio had one friend — James F. 
 Dolan, by name. Dromio called him Jim the 
 Gipsy. Gipsy Jim of the mellow heart and the 
 starry eyes, and no man is useless while he has a 
 friend, said Stevenson. They had been playmates 
 at school: they learned to sing and dance and fight 
 together, when little boys at home; they had been 
 tramps togetlier in their teens; and Gipsy Jim had 
 taught him many things, principally to say ill of no 
 man, never to harbor revenge, and never to believe 
 an ill rumor of another fellow till personal experi- 
 ence corroborated it. When Dromio had left Amer- 
 ica, years before, Jim had placed one hundred dol- 
 lars in the bank, and said : "Dromio, you will per- 
 haps always be broke, no matter how successful 
 you are, so when you want to come home, send for 
 that money." 
 
 So, on arriving in New York, Dromio went 
 straight to the home of Gipsy Jim, who, meanwhile, 
 had become a great success in modern Vaudeville.
 
 The meeting was enthusiastic. They had been part- 
 ners as boys, and as men they remained boys still. 
 The Fool hoped to secure an engagement in the Le- 
 gitimate drama, but after three or four weeks of 
 tramping up and down Broadway, funds became 
 low in the Gipsy camp, and he arranged to play a 
 week in Vaudeville. He was a success; such a suc- 
 cess, in fact, that the event decided his future, and 
 kept the ass's head upon his shoulders. 
 
 In his entertainment he wore no make up. He 
 walked from the street on to the stage and simply 
 talked to the audience, unravelling the humorous 
 part of himself. He talked of what he saw on the 
 street, in railway trains, on trolley cars, in hotels, 
 lobbies, public places, and drawing rooms. His en- 
 gagement was prolonged, and he began to enjoy the 
 first real success he had ever known. He remained 
 in Vaudeville, and paid his debts in England, and 
 sent for The Little Gold Lady. She arrived on the 
 next steamer. Two months later their first baby 
 was born, a little girl. Now, he must stick to Vaude- 
 ville, and earn a home. So once again he is har- 
 nessed in the Motley which he must forever wear. 
 Well, never mind. Perhaps it will be a better point 
 of vantage from which to realize his dream. For 
 the next five years he played the principal cities of 
 America as a Star in Vaudeville. Whenever he 
 made a friend, he told him of his dream. Nearly all 
 those friends said; "It would be impossible. You
 
 68 ^P JLaD? 
 
 cannot organize actors. They will not stick to- 
 gether. It has been tried often, and always proved 
 a failure," said they — all except a few, among them 
 Jim the Gipsy. 
 
 "It's a great idea," said Jim, "and the time is get- 
 ting ripe for it. These managers are forming them- 
 selves into little circuits, and the time will soon come 
 when they will all flock together; then away will 
 go our salaries." 
 
 George Monroe and George Reno also encouraged 
 him, and George M. Cohan and Dromio talked over 
 its possibilities for weeks, while dreaming on the 
 sands of Atlantic City, in the summer of '99. 
 
 One morning, early in May, 1900, the 
 Vaudeville Artists of the United States awoke 
 and read in the papers that all the principal Mana- 
 gers of Variety Theatres were going to meet and 
 form a gigantic Vaudeville trust, or syndicate, and 
 that the powers of this syndicate were only going to 
 invite one certain favorite Manager of each City 
 outside of Greater New York to join their enter- 
 prise : that all others would be tabooed, and that as, 
 therefore, there would be but one Theatre in every 
 town where the Vaudevillain could secure an en- 
 gagement, the said Vaudevillain's salary would be 
 much reduced. They also read in these papers that 
 there were too many actors on the stage, and that 
 the actor received too much salary anyway ; and that 
 the supply of Vaudevillains was greater than tha
 
 WmhMUt 69 
 
 demand, so the unfit would have to be weeded out, 
 and go back to the mines or the woods. Who were 
 the unfit? The Managers did not say. Afterwards, 
 they said they meant the "Gold-Bricks," this being 
 their term for actors and actresses from the legiti- 
 mate stage who found Vaudeville profitable, and 
 continued in it, and whose first advent therein had 
 lent tone and prestige and brought a new following 
 to their theatres. 
 
 But whatever they may have meant, the news of 
 their contemplated merging .struck consternation 
 deep into the ranks of Vaudevillains. "Like thunder 
 'crost the Bay" it came and struck them dumb 
 everywhere. Late in the following month of May 
 the Managers met and conferred. The Hoffman 
 House was their meeting place, and it was there that 
 Dromio interviewed some of them after their first 
 or second conference. One of them slapped him on 
 the shoulder and laughingly said* "Dromio, we 
 have certainly had you on the pan upstairs." 
 
 Some of them crowded around and began to 
 argue. Some good-natured bantering followed, and 
 they had some drinks and smokes, and they con- 
 tinued "kidding" him. "Ah, come on now, Dro- 
 mio," they said, "yo^ know you fellows get too 
 much money. We are going to give you forty 
 weeks' work a season. Of course, you will not get 
 so much money per week, but look at the work you 
 will havel And we are going to cut out the agent
 
 70 Q^p Latip 
 
 and book you fellows dii-ect,' said liiey, again slap- 
 ping him on the shoulder and laughing, 
 
 "Yes," said he, "but you will take the agents* five 
 per cent., 1 suppose?" 
 
 "Why, of course, we have got to have money for 
 expenses, you know. We have come all the way 
 from Chicago here, just to help to do you fellows 
 some good. We are your friends, but you don't 
 know it. We are just here to do you good!" 
 
 "Yes, to do us goody said Dromio. "Well, the 
 good that you are going to do us won't be anything 
 when compared with the good we will do you, and, 
 as it is getting late, I think I will start in doing you 
 good right away. Good evening, gentlemen," and 
 he bowed himself out. 
 
 "Good night, Dromio!" they shouted after him. 
 "Don't take any bad money, Dromio! Ha! Ha! 
 Ha!" 
 
 With these words ringing in his ears, he walked 
 up Broadway. 
 
 The next day he organized "The White Rats of 
 America," and the day of his dream had dawned. 
 
 Until this Society was organized, the artist had 
 always been at the mercy of the manager and mid- 
 dleman. It was the forerunner and inspirer of all 
 the present affiliated theatrical organizations all over 
 the earth. It disrupted and set back for many years, 
 and perhaps forever, the aim of the combined Man- 
 agers of America to eliminate competition and cor-
 
 l^autietiiHe 
 
 71 
 
 ral the entire Vaudeville profession, then in its first 
 bloom of advancement. It raised the standard of 
 this form of entertainment all over the world. It 
 saved the salaries of the artists, and prevented the 
 effacement of their individualities. For with an all- 
 powerful syndicate on one side and unorganized en- 
 tities on the other, the Vaudeville artist would have 
 eventually become a number on a play card, placed 
 to be read by the audience just before each turn, and 
 the Theatre would have been The Thing, and the 
 Artists anything from Number One to Number 
 Ten. It taught the manager that the artists was en- 
 titled to some respect. It endeavored to teach the 
 artists to respect and love each other. It held out 
 hope of advancement in every way to each merry 
 wanderer, and was in truth The Declaration of In- 
 dependence for the Actor for all time. 
 
 if^
 
 72 ®p JLaDg 
 
 IX. 
 
 IT was Sunday afternoon, early in June, Nineteen 
 Hundred, when eight Vaudeville players as- 
 sembled in the cafe of the Parker House, 
 Broadway, New York City. They were David Craig, 
 Montgomery, Fred Stone, Sam Morton, Thomas 
 Lewis, Sam J. Ryan, Mark Murphy, Charles Ma 
 son, and the Dromio. James F. Dolan, the Gipi5_y, 
 was out of town, and could not get to the meeting 
 except in spirit; but as Charles Mason did not at- 
 tend the second meeting, Dolan was acclaimed as 
 one of the original eight when they next fore- 
 gathered. 
 
 At the first meeting, after some preliminary talk, 
 they adjourned to David Montgomery's suite of 
 rooms, upstairs, in the Parker House, where they 
 all took off their coats and smoked and listened, 
 while Dromio preached to them for two hours on 
 the advisability of a society, composed, at first, of 
 the leading Vaudeville Artists of America. He pic- 
 tured to them all the possibilities that were within 
 his power of expression to explain. He showed them
 
 ^^tORlGINAtf,^^^ 
 
 Jss.f.Oolan. 
 
 TomLEw/s „ /red Stone. 
 
 (^po.Fullermn ^'^^''^'V^'^' MarkMurph/.
 
 l^auDeUflle 73 
 
 how they could own themselves and forever be pro- 
 tected from the menace of syndicated capital. He 
 dwelt on the great good it was possible for them to 
 do for their profession. Everybody present became 
 enthusiastic over the idea, and each member offered 
 many good suggestions, all of which were noted and 
 remembered, and eventually put into execution. It 
 was agreed among them that in order to be sure of 
 their ground, the Society should at first be limited 
 to One Hundred members, and that the first One 
 Hundred candidates should be selected with a view 
 to their character and standing in the profession, 
 and their general availability. Therefore, when one 
 objection was offered against a proposed candidate, 
 he was slated for the second hundred. This plan had 
 the effect of bringing together at first those mem- 
 bers of the profession who were thought to be most 
 worthy in every way. At the first meeting Dromio 
 referred to the "Water Rats of London," and told 
 how they had come to his rescue, and so the word 
 "Rats," which when spelled backwards, spells 
 "Star," seem to stick; and, as there was some joking 
 about Mark Murphy's snow white hair, they called 
 themselves The White Rats. They chose this title 
 for other reasons as well. The title was afterwards 
 thought by many to have been a mistake, but there 
 was no time for splitting hairs over words during 
 those early meetings. They thought they had things 
 of more importance than titles to consider. Their
 
 74 ^P La Dp 
 
 welfare seemed to be threatened. Their profession 
 seemed to be at stake. So everybody was thinking, 
 and thinking hard, and once again, "What's in a 
 name?" So Dromio taught them the Song of the 
 Water Rats, which was a chorus of a few Hnes, 
 called "The Emblem," written by Wal Pink. They 
 merely substituted the word White for Water. 
 
 "And this is the emblem of our society, 
 Each member acts with the greatest propriety, 
 Jolly old sports, to us they raise their hats! 
 A merry lot of fellows are The Real White Rats. 
 Rats! Rats! Rats! RATS. Rats! Star!" 
 
 This they sang over and over again with great en- 
 thusiasm, and, in truth, though such songs are mean- 
 ingless to the outsider, every syllable seems charged 
 with a world of meaning to the singer. The same is 
 true perhaps in a certain degree of all anthems, em- 
 blems, and most college yells. So the eight original 
 White Rats sang this song over and over, and after 
 vowing eternal allegiance to each other, they parted, 
 like so many merry boys, enthusiastic and joyful, 
 with high hopes for the future of their enterprise. 
 When Dromio reached home that evening, he said 
 to The Little Gold Lady, "Well, sweetheart, I have 
 done it, at last." "What is that, Dromio?" said she. 
 "Why, I have hitched my dream horses to their 
 earthly cause, and there are seven comrades to go
 
 l^aiiDetiille '7^ 
 
 driving with me over the hills and far away. I have 
 blown the bubble out of my little pipe. Bring Babs 
 here, till I tell her all about it. She likes bubbles, the 
 same as I. They are full of such pretty colors for 
 the eye !" 
 
 He then picked up his little girl and kissed her and 
 said, "If what I did to-day goes through, dear, 
 they'll remember your Daddy when you're a great 
 big girl." Just then the door bell rang. Dromio 
 answered it himself, and there stood Mantwa. It 
 had been six years since he had presented himself 
 to the Fool, and now he stands in the doorway on 
 the very day that Dromio had opened the door of 
 his dream. They had parted sorely, each obstinate 
 concerning his own opinion. Dromio, insistent on 
 following his Will-o-Wisp ; Mantwa, disgusted with 
 him for what he considered disloyalty to his higher 
 self. And now, just as he is beginning to see light, 
 here stands Mantwa, the Cloud. The meeting was 
 cordial enough to preserve the amenities. 
 
 "Hello!" said Dromio. "What are you doing 
 here? Come on in, the folks will be surprised to 
 see you. We have discussed you much since those 
 old days in England." 
 
 When Mantwa had met The Little Gold Lady and 
 the Baby, and they had talked awhile of old times 
 in England, Mantwa explained that he had come 
 over on business; had just arrived, and only heard 
 within the last hour, accidently in a cafe, of the in-
 
 ^^ ^p Lad? 
 
 ception of a new organization. "You got it quick," 
 said Dromio, "and have come to dissuade me from 
 it, I suppose?" "Your supposition is correct," said 
 Mantwa; "that is just what I am here for." The 
 same old cynical smile played about his lips, as he 
 continued. 
 
 "I have come to save you from yourself; you are 
 making the greatest mistake of your life. Of course, 
 I have heard all about your success over here, and 
 you perhaps lay great stress upon it, but let me tell 
 you, it has only just commenced; your career has 
 only just begun ; and now that you have a chance to 
 make something of yourself, you are about to fling 
 your chances all away; you are about to blow into 
 oblivion the only chance that you have ever had. 
 I'll wager that in a few months' time you will be the 
 laughing stock of New York, if you continue in this 
 foolish enterprise." 
 
 "Well," said Dromio, "you cannot change me 
 from my course. I have started, and I am going 
 through with it, come what may. Come, let's talk 
 of something else. I cannot make you understand, 
 and you cannot convince me that I am wrong." 
 
 "There is nothing else worth talking about," said 
 Mantwa, and his voice took on a softer tone. "Cohk^, 
 Dromio," said he, "you are my foolheart, I am your 
 brains. You admit that I have taught you many 
 things — let me at least teach you self-preservation. 
 Listen to reason. These people will make a lot o£
 
 l^auDetjflle n 
 
 noise for a little while, and if you make some little 
 stir, the powers you are warring against will begin 
 to use their money and influence to turn these people 
 you are fighting for against you, and, no matter 
 how strong and true you may be, they will libel you 
 and ridicule you into your grave." 
 
 "You don't know them, Mantwa," said the Fool. 
 "Your knowledge of them is confined to cafes and 
 clubs, where they are as cunningly masked as when 
 on the stage. I know their lives — the real under- 
 current of their lives. I know their hearts, their 
 struggles, and some of the things with which they 
 have to contend, and in some respects they are the 
 greatest people that I have ever known. So come, 
 let's talk of other things, for, as I tell you, I am ob- 
 durate in this thing, and I am going through with it. 
 Have a glass of wine." 
 
 After some more talk Mantwa left his address 
 and departed. Dromio went to his room, threw 
 himself upon his bed, weary almost to exhaustion. 
 The Little Gold Lady sat down on the bed and 
 soothed him to sleep. 
 
 At the second meeting of the new society there 
 were sixteen members present, so they elected officers, 
 Dromio was chosen President, or Big Chief; David 
 Craig Montgomery, Vice President, or Little Chief; 
 James J. Morton, Secretary, or Scrat; Mark Mur- 
 phy, Treasurer, or Treasurrat. The other officers 
 were Sam Morton, Tom Lewis, Fred Stone, James
 
 78 ^P LaDp 
 
 F. Dolan, Sam Ryan, and Nat M. Wills. The office 
 of Chaplain, which Charles T. Aldrich invested with 
 such natural dignity and sincerity as to make him 
 ever afterwards beloved and esteemed by all his 
 Brothers of Laughland, was not instituted until 
 some weeks later, when Dromio had finished their 
 Ritual, and he, Charles T. Aldrich, became the first 
 Chaplain — Chap Rat, so called. At the fourth or 
 fifth meeting there were more than forty members 
 assembled, and as they grew in numbers their en- 
 thusiasm swelled in proportion. Everybody became 
 busy and anxious to do something for the cause. 
 Like Welsh Bards at an Eistedfod, where each 
 singer brings his heart's best music in his ode, so did 
 our Fellows of Follyland, who had found each other 
 for the first time, bring to each meeting his best con- 
 sidered thought, to be adopted for the common 
 good. Also, everybody hustled, night and day, to 
 persuade and bring into the fold such candidates as 
 were eligible. The news of the new society spread, 
 and applications for membership poured in from all 
 parts of the United States and from Americans in 
 Europe. 
 
 It was not to be expected, of course, that Theat- 
 rical Managers, or their dependents, or followers, 
 would look kindly upon the new organization, or 
 that the Broadway Willies, who wait at stage doors 
 o' nights for their Butterflies, would do anything but 
 smirk and stieer at the idea. The Managers pre-
 
 l^auDetJflle 79 
 
 tended to underestimate it, the Willies and their 
 girlies laughed over their lobsters and wine, and the 
 sporting theatrical world of Broadway at first gen- 
 erally treated it as a joke. 
 
 This was all as it should be, and naturally to be 
 expected, as its appeal was made directly and solely 
 to the Artists of Vaudeville : to those who "deliver 
 the goods," so to speak ; to those that the public pays 
 its money to see, to enjoy, and whose services are 
 therefore indispensable in the amusement world. 
 These people are not manufactured by press agents 
 in a night. Their lives are spent in learning how 
 to entertain the public. They are known as the 
 Standard Acts of Vaudeville, and are not to be 
 classed or confused with Salome dancers, couchee- 
 wigglers, and other lures that middlemen discover to 
 gull the public. They are what might be called the 
 staple goods of the amusement world. They have 
 learned their business, and have become successful. 
 Oftentimes, after many years of obscurity, wherein 
 they continued to grind out the laugh-essence and 
 heart-interest for the amusement of audiences, who 
 accepted them as a matter of course. They are the 
 people who belong on the stage, and who came there 
 because they had something to give. Usually, they 
 are versatile. They can sing, dance, mimic and act. 
 Yes, they can act. Whenever they appear in so- 
 called legitimate productions, they immediately be- 
 come famous, and carry all before them, and in a
 
 8o 9^y JLaDy 
 
 short time their Vaudeville origin is ahnost forgot- 
 ten. So, the first members of the White Rats were 
 these standard acts of Vaudeville; the class that 
 gives the legitimate stage its greatest and most ver- 
 satile stars. Still, they w^ere Vaudevillains then, and 
 the possibility of any organization among them 
 tending towards their uplift and protection was con- 
 sidered foolish in the extreme. The little society 
 published a prospectus setting forth their aims and 
 ideals. This was rather an incongruous pamphlet, 
 considering their status, as it contained such foolish 
 phrases as Brotherly Love, Higher Ideals, Evolu- 
 tion, Freedom, Representation in Congress, and pro- 
 jected some minor reforms, such as protection of 
 original material, and the abolition of commissions 
 on salaries. It promised a higher form of enter- 
 tainment, and a general advancement in this sphere 
 of theatricals which could only be secured by col- 
 lective effort. 
 
 Of course, this pamphlet was unmercifully -guyed 
 by the subsidized portion of the theatrical press; and 
 in truth the language of this pamphlet was some- 
 what efflorescent and higlifalutin', to emanate from 
 a class which is generally referred to in the slang 
 terms of Broadway. And in this respect, perhaps, it 
 merited the ridicule that was heaped upon it. 
 
 But there was our modern Don Quixote, still tflt- 
 ing at his Windmills, and using large-sounding 
 phrases. He knew what he wanted, forsooth, odds
 
 l^autietJille 8i 
 
 bodkins, what, ho, by'r lady, and what he wanted 
 was Freedom and Advancement, Enhghtenment, 
 Fairness, Kindness; but there he was, asking for it, 
 in a redundant, opulent verbiage, that, perhaps, re- 
 called to the reader the thunderous trifles of Tody 
 Hamilton's advance posters of Barnum and Bailey's 
 Circus. 
 
 Once more, "What fools these mortals be!" 
 However, what the wiseacres could not under- 
 stand, was the seeming paradox of why Variety 
 should be Unified. 
 
 Meanwhile, the society thrived. 
 
 '<-*^
 
 82 ^^ jLati? 
 
 X. 
 
 THEY hold their meetings now at a large 
 Fraternal Hall on Twenty-third Street. 
 Dromio finished their Ritual, and taught 
 them their parts in it. This Ritaul made it 
 clear to all members, once and for all, that they 
 were organized not only for social purposes or to 
 temporarily protect their salaries, but to beautify 
 their lives, uplift their profession, and own 
 their own enterprises. Many who were afraid of 
 discrimination had said it was purely a social order, 
 but this Ritual changed that tune. They were or- 
 ganized and solid now, and he felt that he could de- 
 pend upon their loyalty. He knew most of those 
 early members personally, so he taught them parts 
 in a ceremony that told them without restraint who 
 and what they were, and what their destiny should 
 be, and how they should do their utmost to deserve 
 that destiny. It was really a little symbolical play, 
 with a breadth of world-wide Brotherhood for its 
 motif, and written in such a way as to continually
 
 For I hatbe come to prophesy 
 The morro'w^s golden dd'wn "
 
 l^auUetJille 83 
 
 impress the players of it as well as the candidates 
 who were being initiated. He himself was not fond 
 of Rituals or ceremonies of any kind, but this little 
 playlet was necessary. It appealed to them as wan- 
 derers, who coined their hearts into laughter and 
 song, to be loyal to each other. It asked them to 
 ponder, to look up, to think of the higher ideals of 
 life, of the sweet things; the good things; the sane 
 things. It asked them to help one another, and to 
 be true. It told them that they were a Wandering 
 Nation of Joy Givers, with great differences in their 
 abilities, and that they had only themselves to depend 
 upon, but that they would all be together in the end. 
 It had in it quotations from the Seers; it was filled 
 with sweet songs of long ago; of home; the scent 
 of old-fashioned roses, and the glory of the stars. 
 There was no frivolity or practical joking. The 
 stranger was found alone on the desert of doubt, 
 wrapped up in himself and his own interests, and it 
 opened up to him a New Kingdom : the kingdom of 
 Brotherly Love among the members of his own No- 
 madic Tribe; and it opened his heart to his fellows 
 amid grand organ effects and welcoming song, with 
 at first fifty, and afterwards many hundred, voices 
 in harmony. And, oh ! how they played themselves 
 — these mountebanks in those days ! How they sang 
 and acted! And how, inspired by each other's sin- 
 cerity and simplicity, their voices unconsciously took 
 on the inflection of little children I And surely when
 
 84 O^p La Dp 
 
 the lone love star illumined the dark desert whereon 
 ihey wrangled and quarreled, all envious and jealous 
 of each other, and this same spirit of starland led 
 them into the happy land of Brotherly Love, surely 
 then some of these star hearts of Laughland felt the 
 breath of that haven which is home. And Charles 
 Aldrich, who played this wandering star, that led 
 them to their destiny, had a voice that sounded on 
 those occasions, like some celestial spirit whispering 
 words of hope adown the listening skies. 
 
 If there were those who did not understand the 
 meaning of the S3aiibols, they wept over the music, 
 just the same, and few indeed were the initiates' 
 who finished with dry eyes. 
 
 There was no oath or obligation of any kind. 
 Each man gave his word of honor. When that 
 failed, the man failed. And there was no favoring 
 of any creed or caste or class ; but when any member 
 discovered an ability to further the cause of the 
 Order, he was given an opportunity, and encouraged 
 in proportion to his efforts. It was "One for All 
 and All for One." They used this phrase of "The 
 Three Guardsmen" as a slogan peculiar to their 
 Order, and ofttimes men who were known by all 
 present to have been enemies for years have, at the 
 conclusion of the Ritual, shaken hands with each 
 other amid the deafening ai)plause of all the other 
 members assembled. 
 
 On occasion of this kind, the elder member would
 
 l^auDetiflle 85 
 
 approach the newly made Brother, and, offering 
 his hand, say: "Come, Brother, let's be friends. 
 Here it is 'One for All and All for One.' " 
 
 And there have been dramatic silences, when the 
 newly-made Brother has trembled for a moment in 
 the balance, and finally broken down, or, rather, 
 finally risen, to the occasion; and, taking the prof- 
 fered hand in his own, has repeated, in a quavering 
 voice, "One for All and All for One." 
 
 This always brought the lumps into the throats of 
 the onlookers, but they gulped them down with 
 cheers ; and it is a question whether the members of 
 any other class could be so affected by simple senti- 
 ment and song. 
 
 Surely, these mountebanks remain boys forever. 
 
 Though the membership of the Order numbered 
 less than One Hundred when they moved to their 
 new meeting place on Twenty-third Street, it soon 
 doubled in numbers, and hundreds were clamoring 
 for admission. The policy of selection which they 
 pursued attracted the entire profession. After the 
 Ritual came the Constitution, By-laws, and Rules 
 of Order. The membership already comprised most 
 of the best acts in Vaudeville, and, incidentally, it 
 may be said, many of the best fellows. Their new 
 meeting place was a regular Fraternal Hall, where 
 other societies held their meetings on different days 
 of the week. It was above Koster & Bial's first 
 Music Hall on Twenty-third Street, between Broad-
 
 86 ^g jLaPg 
 
 way and Sixth Avenue. It was oblong in shape, 
 with a stage at the end, on the right side of which 
 was a grand organ. To the left there was a parti- 
 tion, with about five feet of space behind it, which 
 ran the length of the hall. There was a chair in 
 the centre of the platform. In front of the chair 
 was a dais, where the Chief presided. On each side 
 of him on the platform sat the officers, which, in- 
 cluding the Dromio and the other Seven First 
 Members, were: David C. Montgomery, Fred 
 Stone, Sam Ryan, Tom Lewis, Sam Morton, Mark 
 Murphy, and James F. Dolan (those were the origi- 
 nal eight). The other officers were Chas. T. Aid- 
 rich, James J. Morton, Nat M. Wills, Ed. M. Favor, 
 Harry Linton, Chas. McDonald, and Ralph Post. 
 Besides these, an old minute book makes record of 
 the following names attendant at some of these 
 early meetings : George Munroe, Hugh Mack. 
 George Felix, Junie McCree, George Delmore, Mil- 
 ton Royle, James Richmond Glenroy, Jerry Cohan, 
 George M. Cohan, Harry O. Hayes, Tom Nawn, 
 Tim Cronin, James J. Corbett, A. O. Duncan, Jess 
 Dandy, James Harrigan, Walter Leroy, Colie Lor- 
 ella, Richard, Staley, Frank D. Bryan, Charles 
 Arno, George Ramsey, George Evans, Tim 
 McMahon, James Cook, Nat Haines, Marty 
 Healy, Fred Helf, Frank Herbert, Harry Lu- 
 kins, John W. World, Bobby Gaylor, Chas. Sa- 
 bine, Joe Maddern, Fred Wayne, Harry Watson,
 
 l^aulJeuille 87 
 
 George B. Reno, Frank Richards, Bobby Mack, Er- 
 nest Tenny, William Hines, George Lavender, Pete 
 McCloud, Harry and John Dillon, George W. Day, 
 Major Doyle, James Donavan, Eugene Ellsworth, 
 Harry Foy, Alf Grant, Mark Caron, Juan Caidedo, 
 Fred Niblo, Wm. Keough, Edward Keough, M. J. 
 Sullivan, John Rixford, Connie Rixford, John Con- 
 roy. Lew Flatt, Joe Birnes, Fred Mardo, Frank 
 Gardiner, Will Hickey, Stuart Kollins, Frank 
 O'Brien, Jack Ashby, Dan Crimmins, Raymond Fin- 
 lay, Paul Barnes, Wm. H. Colby, Si Hassan Ben 
 Ali, Chas. Falke, Arthur Brock, James F. Casey, 
 Will H. Fox, Henri H, French, Dave Genaro, Fred 
 Bailey, Edwin Garvie, Will F. Denny, Stuart 
 Barnes, Sam Curtis, John P. Curran, Chas. Case, 
 Ward Caufield, Mike Coakley, Bernard Dyllyn, Phil 
 Dorreto, Arthur Don, Hugh Dougherty, Chas. De 
 Camo, Robert Dailey, Joe Doner, Jos. J. Dowling, 
 Wm. Everhart, Frank Evans, Chas. T. Ellis, Ed- 
 ward Esmonde, Harry Foy, Joe Flynn, Mart M. 
 Fuller, Alf Grant, Dan Gracey, John D. Gilbert, 
 Jack Gardiner, Knox Gavin, Gerald Griffin, Eddie 
 Gerard, Nat C. Haines, Herbert Holcombe, Mark 
 Hart, Lew Hawkins, Chas. Harris, Fred Herbert, 
 Frank Hayes, Harry Hedrix, John P. Hill, Arthur 
 Hill, John Jess, Stuart Kollins, Arthur Kherns, 
 Chas. Kilpatrick, Kara, John Kernell, John King, 
 Ed. Latell, Billy Link, Bert Leslie, John Le Clair, 
 Dolph Levino, Al Maddox, Harry Montgomery,
 
 88 ^j) LaDp 
 
 Chas. Mack, Leon Morris, Frank Morrell, Maxi- 
 milian, Wm. H. McCart, James McDonald, Eugene 
 O'Rourke, Joe Pettingill, Paul Ouinn, Wm. Robyns, 
 Arthur Rigby, John Russell, Pat Rooney, Julian 
 Rose, Peter Randall, Thomas Ryan, Al Stinson, 
 Mark Sullivan, Chas. Stine, Lew Sully, Chas. Sea- 
 men, Wm. Seeley, Walter Stanton, George Sydney, 
 George Marion, Edward Tenny, George Thatcher, 
 James Tenbrook, Walter Talbot, Jack Tucker, J. K. 
 Tobin, Will Vidocq, Billy Van, Joe Wilton, Chas. 
 Wayne, J. Royer West, Al Wilson, Al Weston, 
 Frank Ward, Jack Wilson, Ed Wrothe, Gus Wil- 
 liams, Frank White, George Waterbury, James 
 Wall, Odcll Williams, Clayton White, and Wm. H. 
 Zeno. 
 
 As many of the above gentlemen are still with us, 
 it is perhaps sensible and in good taste not to wax 
 too eulogistic over them while they are still here. 
 And, in truth, if the good actions of each member 
 who gave his time and service for the cause were 
 to be written, it would require many volumes to 
 chronicle them. Suffice now to mention that they 
 were all in earnest and did all in tlieir power to build 
 up the Order which is now their protection and their 
 pride.
 
 t^auDetJille 89 
 
 £arlg Snala. 
 
 XI. 
 
 THE first two members that circumstances 
 subjected to the acid test were Montgomery 
 and Stone. These young men had become 
 very popular among Vaudeville patrons in all the 
 principal cities, and they were engaged for a 
 season as the star attraction of a company that 
 was booked in all the syndicate houses. The man- 
 ager of the company, the late Mr. Louis Erick, 
 who, by the way, was a fine fellow at heart, had 
 been at great expense in getting out original pic- 
 torial printing for them — several styles of litho- 
 graphic three sheets, etc. They were to be 
 boomed extensively. The company was one of 
 the best on the road, and their salary was to be 
 the largest they had yet received. It was June. The 
 company was to open in September, and they were 
 offered an engagement of one week at Koster & 
 Bial's 34th Street Music Hall, which was an Inde- 
 pendent house, whose manager, Mr. Hashim, did 
 not belong to the syndicate. And though their en- 
 gagement with Mr. Erick was not to commence until
 
 90 90P JLaUp 
 
 the following autumn, and was not booked to play 
 New York until sometime later, they went to Mr. 
 Erick and asked him if they could play the week they 
 were offered at Koster & Bial's. Mr. Erick saw no 
 harm in it, and gave them his permission to do so; 
 but when the powers of the syndicate heard this 
 there was red fire and gnashing of teeth. Mr. Erick 
 was told that Montgomery and Stone must not play 
 one night for Mr. Hashim. Mr. Erick then went 
 to the boys, and told them his predicament, and 
 pleaded with them to cancel the week which they 
 had booked with Hashim, but they had signed con- 
 tracts for the week, and the law inviolate of the 
 Order was never to cancel a contract made in good 
 faith with any manager. Montgomery and Stone 
 were personal friends of Mr. Erick, and the latter 
 did not know how or where to secure an attraction 
 equal to them for his company. This affected the 
 boys greatly. They did not say much, but it could 
 be seen that they felt it deeply. However, they kept 
 their word, played their week with Mr. Hashim, and 
 risked being blacklisted by all the combined Vaude- 
 ville interests of America. Of course, Mr. Erick 
 was compelled to cancel their engagement with him, 
 though he remained their friend. They had no 
 other engagement at the time, and little hope of any. 
 They were not overflush with money, and as the 
 Order had just been started, it was not in a position 
 to give them any hope of protection; and yet every-
 
 thing that meant so much to them at that time they 
 blew like a bubble into eternity when it came to be 
 weighed against their words of honor which they 
 had given to their comrades for their comrades' 
 cause. Then Tom Lewis and Sam J. Ryan did the 
 same thing, and from that day not one of these men 
 have looked back, and surely they deserve the suc- 
 cess they are now enjoying; but it was the prece- 
 dent they set which was the great thing at the time. 
 It had a great effect, and nearly anyone of the first 
 few hundred members would have gone through 
 perdition to have kept his word with his fellows 
 while these examples were fresh in their minds. 
 
 They are truly fortunate who draw the prize of 
 courage in the lottery of life. It is great indeed to 
 be a Nathan Hale amid the affairs of Earth's great 
 Arena; but on the little mimic stage of glamour, 
 gauze and glitter, it is not so bad to be either a 
 David Craig Montgomery, a Frederick Stone, a Sam 
 J. Ryan, or Tom Lewis. Sam Morton and his clever 
 family also stood pat and Jim the Gipsy and Mark 
 Murphy were dateless for many moons. 
 
 Sacrifices of a like nature were afterwards made 
 by many members of the society, before and after 
 the crisis. It would be repetition to dwell upon 
 them, and mention is made of the action of these 
 particular Brothers, not for the sake of lauding 
 them with any special praise, but because they were 
 the first to encounter a trial of this nature.
 
 92 ^p JLatip 
 
 It was on account of men of this calibre being 
 among the first few hundred that the society was a 
 success. 
 
 The members soon began to look upon their Order 
 with feelings almost akin to a religion, and the more 
 ridicule it received the more closely it bound them 
 together. They knew their cause was just. William 
 Carroll, one of the Old School, prominent in his 
 day, Irish Billy, as he is known to his friends, made 
 a speech after his initiation, and said : "It is the 
 first time I ever knew that I had a profession. I 
 can hear the voices of my old stage comrades — of 
 Harry Richmond, Harry Kernell, The Reynolds 
 Brothers, Delehanty, Hengler, and J. W. Kelly — all 
 calling to me from beyond the Bourne: all in ac- 
 cord that this is what we should have had years 
 ago." 
 
 The Order thrived, and grew in leaps and bounds. 
 The Managers' Association made the vital mistake 
 of offering much reduced salaries for the following 
 season, and this enhanced the universal desire of 
 Vaudevillains everywhere for protection, and there- 
 fore greatly augmented the membership of The 
 White Rats. 
 
 James J. Morton was an efficient Secretary, and 
 did much work during the first summer. When he 
 resigned, to accept an engagement on the road, they 
 elected Frank Lawlor to succeed him. 
 
 Meanwhile, Dromio busied himself night and da^
 
 I^aunem'lle 93 
 
 haranguing the mobs, pleading with eligible candi- 
 dates to join the fold, and explaining things over 
 and over again. He was very proud of the per- 
 sonnel of the Order at this time, though until now 
 none of the big legitimate stars, who afterwards 
 came in, had joined. Still, they had most of the 
 best artists in Vaudeville. 
 
 There they sat, each Sunday, like good boys at 
 school, with bright faces, keenly interested, each 
 with his own idea for the benefit of the Cause; all 
 with their white collars on. It was good to see them. 
 And the greater they were in their profession, the 
 more simple and natural were they in their manner. 
 There were among them famous funmakers, whom 
 the Dromio had admired and enjoyed when a boy 
 in the gallery, and younger men, now become cele- 
 brated, with whom he had struggled in the early 
 days. 
 
 Old partners and old friends, all joined together 
 in one band! Surely, he felt proud. 
 
 Still, "There is a crack in everything that God 
 has made," said Emerson, and so it befell that just 
 as our Fool's heart was filling with gratitude for 
 this brief glimpse of what might one day be his 
 dream fulfilled, he meets Mantwa, and enthusiastic- 
 ally describes to him one of these meetings. 
 
 He tells him of the thrill it gives him to look out 
 into their sincere faces. There was a note of pity 
 in Mantwa's voice as he said :
 
 94 ^P JLaDp 
 
 "Ah ! thou poor dreaming Fool of a Dromio ! If 
 the sight of them thrills thee, look well upon them 
 now, while the novelty and the mystery of their 
 present mood is with them, for they are as fickle 
 as you are fond. Feed your eyes and heart with 
 them now while this tranquil atmosphere prevails. 
 If you knew humanity as I do; if you could only 
 see a little ahead of you, you would be giving your 
 gavel to the nearest member, and, walking away 
 from them forever, saying, 'Thank God, I've done !' 
 Are they gushing over you yet? No. Well, they 
 will be, and that very soon. It is one of their char- 
 acteristics. It is the second spasm of the farce. 
 They will praise you, and damn you, and you will 
 be roasted to a crisp." 
 
 He would have continued in this strain had not 
 Dromio left him abruptly in disgust, and for con- 
 solation sought out Jim the Gipsy, who always en- 
 couraged everybody, and whose very presence sug- 
 gested Hope and smiling skies.
 
 l^auDetiille 95 
 
 EFIj? ®0oktn0 (§ffxttsi. 
 
 XII. 
 
 IN the Autumn of the same year, 1900, The 
 White Rats of America estabhshed their book- 
 ing office on 34th Street, in the Savoy Theatre 
 Building, for the purpose of securing engagements 
 for their members at the Independent Theatres. This 
 was their first business move, and it aroused the 
 wrath of the mighty. They charged their members 
 five per cent, commission on their salaries, and these 
 moneys went into the Fraternal Fund. 
 
 Dromio tried to persuade them to accept shares 
 in an investment fund, in return for this five per 
 cent., said investment fund to be used to purchase 
 theatrical enterprises, especially theatres. By this 
 method each member would become a shareholder 
 in whatever theatres they might secure in proportion 
 to the amount he would pay into his own account 
 for booking purposes. 
 
 He thought that, by this method, the members 
 would eventually acquire a deeper interest in the 
 business plans of the Order, as by gradually and
 
 96 ^p ILaDp 
 
 almost unconsciously saving to themselves what they 
 had heretofore been paying to middlemen for book- 
 ing purposes, they would have a financial interest 
 in the Order that could not be so easily secured in 
 any other way; and if this plan had been pursued 
 from the beginning they would now be in control 
 of the Vaudeville Theatres of America. But this 
 was hardly possible at that time, in those days of 
 enthusiasm and excitement. It was hardly possible 
 for several reasons. Perhaps the outcome of it, as 
 viewed in the distance, was too huge a proposition 
 to be thought possible: too startling a revolution to 
 be believed, though "a consummation devoutly to be 
 wished." All through their history they had served 
 Mine Herr Director, as Punchs and Judys, dangled 
 by him to delight the crowds which came and gave 
 their pittance to see the puppets, not to see Mine 
 Herr, for, bless you ! he does not show himself ! He 
 is too busy collecting! 
 
 All through their history — at least, since that 
 easily-imagined impulsive moment when Folly was 
 young, and their Ancestral Adam handed Mine Herr 
 the hat to be passed around among the possible con- 
 tributors, they had habitually accepted what he gave 
 them. All through their history, since that time, 
 Mine Herr has kept the hat, and Proteus has re- 
 mained behind the scenes. And now, forsooth, in a 
 modern age, to dare ask him for a return of the hatl 
 * * * This was too muchl And the daring
 
 ^auDetJille 97 
 
 dream of an interest in his booth! * * * Why, 
 this was madness! Besides, there were still many 
 fearsome ones — or, let us say, conservatives — who 
 persisted that the Order should be purely a social 
 one. On the other hand, the enthusiasm of some 
 members over the booking offices was so great that 
 the higher salaried artists said : "Let the commis- 
 sions all go into the general fund of the Order, so 
 that the smaller salaried acts will receive the benefit 
 of their more highly remunerated Brothers." This 
 was generous, but it thwarted for a while the plans 
 laid out for the purpose of securing theatres. 
 
 However, the booking offices were established, 
 and some of the members were booked in the few 
 Independent Houses then in existence. All contracts 
 were executed by the Fraternal Secretary, Frank 
 Lalor, and his assistant. Mart M. Fuller. 
 
 It was about this time that Digby Bell, who was 
 then playing in Vaudeville, joined the society, and 
 it was most probably Milton Royle who inter- 
 ested him and induced him to join. Milton Royle 
 had an appropriate name. As a man he was both 
 royal and loyal. He was one of the earliest mem- 
 bers, and most earnest and intelligent of workers 
 for the cause; and, though he and his talented 
 wife had for years been successful as players and 
 writers in both Drama and Vaudeville, he had at 
 that time not yet written the great successes he is 
 now known by in America and England. Royal
 
 98 q^p jLaUg 
 
 and Bell were both members of the Lambs' Club, 
 and as soon as Bell joined the society he was 
 the means of bringing into the fold several mem- 
 bers whose prominence begot an interest in the 
 Order that had not previously been manifested by 
 either the press or public. Brother Bell proposed 
 Henry E. Dixey. When Dixey was made a mem- 
 ber he brought in De Wolf Hopper and the late 
 Maurice Barrymore, who, in their turn, were the 
 means of making members of Nat C. Goodwin, 
 David Warfield, John T. Kelly, the late Peter F. 
 Dailey, Dan Daly, Joe Weber, Lew Fields, Andrew 
 Mack, Joseph Coyne, Eddie Foy, Otis Harlan, Sam 
 Bernard, Happy Ward, Oliver Doud Byron, Joseph 
 Murphy, George Marion, and many others. This 
 influx of successful names made the managers sit up 
 and take notice. Perhaps, after all, something might 
 be doing. They became very restive, indeed. The 
 press became interested. This was what the Dromio 
 wanted. He knew if he could get the issue fairly be- 
 fore the public, through the columns of the daily pa- 
 pers, it would help greatly, in the case of any possible 
 crisis. He appointed Paul Armstrong, who has since 
 become the celebrated playwright, as press represen- 
 tative, and soon the papers were teeming with con- 
 jectures and predictions of the possible coming 
 merry war. 
 
 And now the Society was flourishing indeed. It 
 is generally supposed that an affected dignity and
 
 aloofness from your erstwhile fellows are two prin- 
 ciple characteristics of the successful Theatrical Star. 
 Yet it would seem that these big names of the merry 
 world deserved the success which their talents 
 brought them, as they proved by this move that they 
 were capable of holding truth and justice above this 
 false dignity ; and, in truth, with no possible motive 
 to lure them, they not only lent their names, but 
 gave their time and money, and exerted their best 
 efforts for the cause of their struggling Vaudeville 
 Brothers. Perhaps some time in their lives some of 
 them had heard a note of the Nightingale's Song. 
 Who shall say? 
 
 When Digby Bell, whose success during all his 
 career had been gained in the highest priced thea- 
 tres, joined, he said to the Dromio : "I am amazed 
 — positively amazed, I did not believe this possible. 
 I will do everything that lies in my power for the 
 cause of this Society." And he kept his word. De 
 Wolf Hopper, after his initation, made an appro- 
 priate speech, telling how grateful he was to be 
 among them; and, during the recess called Liberty 
 Hall, he took the Dromio aside in a brotherly, 
 and not a patronizing way, and asked him to always 
 call him by his first name, which is Will ; and from 
 that moment Mr. Hopper gave his time and money, 
 and worked with diligence to further the aims of the 
 Fraternity. 
 
 The same was true of Henry E. Dixey, one of
 
 loo ^p Latip 
 
 America's best and most graceful character actors. 
 Nat C. Goodwin made a speech, telling how proud 
 he was to have served his apprenticeship in Vaude- 
 ville. The late Peter F. Dailey used to ring 
 the changes, once in a while, and make the 
 Lodge roar with laughter, relieving the tension of 
 seriousness. So did our loquacious, witty friend, 
 James Thornton, and the late Dan Daly, with his 
 droll drawl and lanky personality. Also, there was 
 the late Maurice Barrymore, the brilliant wit of 
 Theatrical Bohemia, ardent in his enthusiasm, and 
 eloquent of speech. They entered into the spirit of 
 the organization with as much ardor as if the So- 
 ciety were some gigantic play, with an all-star cast of 
 several hundred parts, wherein the lines were all 
 spontaneous, and where each actor was the author 
 of his own role. And they were indeed playing 
 parts. They were playing themselves, their deeper 
 and truer selves, in a little scene called THE 
 MOUNTEBANK'S AWAKENING, in the great 
 play, THE COMEDY OF LIFE. 
 
 Some of them, the brightest and the best, have 
 now passed through the Mystic Door, but they have 
 left Meujories behind of the light that gleams in 
 kindly eyes of actions that were brave and of duties 
 well performed. 
 
 And what a contrast, to be sure, do these real fel- 
 lows of wit and genius, and breadth of vision, bear 
 to some of those unconsciously humorous charla-
 
 l^auDetjflle loi 
 
 tans of the theatres, who lay such great stress on 
 an affected dignity; who, having less than mediocre 
 talents, must needs have an author fit parts to them 
 as a tailor fits their clothes ; who prate of AHT with 
 a very broad A ; who are, in no real sense, educated, 
 and who, yet, ye gods, gibber of Cultyah ! 
 
 Well, perhaps, they, too, serve a purpose, if only 
 to present a contrast to men. 
 
 It may not be out of place to observe, in passing, 
 that while applause in all its forms is the very life 
 breath of stage people, there is nothing of which 
 they are so fearsome as censure, especially if it comes 
 in the form of ridicule ; and the fact that the above- 
 mentioned gentlemen braved the ridicule of their 
 artistoeratic club associates, and the jeimcsse dorec in 
 general, speaks well for their manhood and fearless 
 intelligence. Not that they deserve more credit than 
 hundreds of other less known members, but that 
 they were more prominent, and lent their efforts to 
 an enterprise that was not formed particularly for 
 their class, and assisted their professional brethren 
 merely through sympathy and sentiment and a love 
 of fair play. And that their association was very 
 valuable was partly owing to the fact that their 
 names were attractive for publicity purposes, and 
 publicity was what the organization needed in those 
 days, in order to get its aims and ideals fairly be- 
 fore the public. And in no single instance did any 
 of the above gentlemen leave the Society in bad
 
 I02 ^p jLaDp 
 
 odor. They came in for the purpose of helping 
 their fellows through a crisis. They remained until 
 the battle was over and won. Then many resigned, 
 in good faith and in good standing. 
 
 Meanwhile, the crisis, if crisis there must be, is 
 still in the future, and the members are all together, 
 "One for All and All for One ;" all enthusisastic, all 
 confident. 
 
 The Dromio says: 
 
 "Let's have no trouble that we can possibly avoid. 
 Everybody must keep his nerve. Don't let them 
 scare you. We have already got them on the run. 
 We are just a standing Army. Let us attend to our 
 own business. Above all, do not let them make you 
 suspicious of each other." 
 
 At this time the Opposition was calling him a 
 howling anarchist. However, things are beginning 
 to get warm. The Society is now over five hun- 
 dred strong. All Stars. The booking office is flour- 
 ishing. There are many thousands of dollars in 
 the Fraternal Fund. They have a band of thirty 
 pieces. They give benefits to packed houses. A 
 weekly paper is being talked about, also the pur- 
 chase of theatres, if necessary. A Carnival is pro- 
 jected for the coming summer, during the dullest 
 week, when their services will be least in demand 
 by the managers. The Carnival will last a week. 
 They will give a different programme each day. In 
 arranging their bookings, all members will leave that
 
 l^auDetiille 103 
 
 week open, and they will all meet together and hold 
 an All-Star Carnival in Madison Square Garden. 
 They will be at least One Thousand strong by that 
 time, and everybody will take part. Eminent Actors 
 will be Ring Masters and Clowns. Every great act 
 known to the show world will be there. It will be 
 the first gala week in their history. The receipts 
 will go to theatrical charities. But this is the point : 
 They will all be together for once, and New York 
 will know they are in town. 
 
 Yes, things are really getting warm. As soon as 
 the news of this contemplated Carnival was made 
 known to the managers, reports came back on wings 
 to the Society that the managers would flood the 
 country with foreign talent during the following sea- 
 son, and that all members of the Fraternity whom 
 it was possible to boycott or blacklist would suffer. 
 Practically, no bookings had thus far been arranged 
 for the coming season. The managers were perfect- 
 ing their organization, still offering reduced sal- 
 aries (which scarcely anybody accepted) ; still hop- 
 ing for something to happen inside of the Order to 
 disrupt it. And as this hoped-for disruption did not 
 occur, divers plans were resorted to. to bring it 
 about. Emissaries were dispatched to Europe to 
 engage acts. Rumor had it that they were to secure 
 all the foreign talent available. Also, this gossip- 
 ping dame. Rumor, said that amateurs, and all sorts 
 of aspirants for stage careers were being tried out
 
 I04 9^v JLatip 
 
 and booked to take the places of the regular Vaude- 
 villains when the time came. If these purposely ex- 
 aggerated reports had the effect of frightening any 
 timid souls into submission, it was not evidenced by 
 their actions with regard to the Order — at least, not 
 yet. 
 
 And now, as IMantwa had predicted, they began 
 to flatter the Fool. They made all sorts of fantastic 
 comparisons, each of which, let it be said to his 
 credit, he resented at once. Had he not been 
 warned by Mantwa? As he himself said, they 
 called him everything, from Moses to Moxie. 
 But it was not for him. He knew that many 
 a wiser Fool than he had slipped on the salve 
 that fell from the lips of the crowd and lost 
 his bearings. No, it was not for him, this hot air. 
 So he told them, in honest simplicity, that he really 
 deserved no special credit. He was really one of 
 the merry masqueraders, who just happened to be 
 leading the cotillion. But while he was being praised 
 in the Fraternity, he was surely being damned else- 
 where. The Opposition branded him a Dictator and 
 Dreamer. Every member of the Society who would 
 listen was told that the Society itself was all well 
 enough, but that the head of it was a terrible fellow, 
 and "Impossible." They said that all matters could 
 be easily adjusted if they only had an agreeable fel- 
 low at the head of things: one who would listen to 
 reason. And tliis was true. If the Chief of the
 
 l^auUeDflle 105 
 
 Order had been an agreeable fellow, who would have 
 listened to managerial reasons, the Society would 
 have been made to order — for the managers. Their 
 press representatives wrote articles telling how he 
 had hypnotized the whole profession, and aspired to 
 own all the theatres himself. These ebulitions made 
 the Dromio smile. 
 
 Meanwhile, he borrowed money from his friends, 
 chiefly from Claude Bartram, who was then in Ger- 
 many, and who sent it by cable, to keep The Little 
 Gold Lady and the wee bairn in food and raiment. 
 This was necessary, as he gave all his time to the 
 Society, and would accept no remuneration whatso- 
 ever. And though fools may live on enthusiasm, it 
 is a physical fact that their loved ones may not, un- 
 less, indeed, they also be in the midst of the strife, 
 and buoyed up by that mysterious unknown ether 
 that fills the dreamer's soul to the exclusion of all 
 other desires. Although such was the case with The 
 Little Gold Lady, still there was the wee bairn. The 
 Little Gold Lady's time was taken up in adminis- 
 tering to the wants of the Fool, soothing his tired 
 nerves, and keeping him at least semi-sane, so that 
 he was allowed to roam abroad and pursue his devil- 
 ish machinations against the Holy Power of Trusts 
 and Sacred Syndicated Greed.
 
 io6 gip jLaDp 
 
 XIII. 
 
 So the work goes on. Meanwhile, the Fool con- 
 tinues to meet Mantwa, here, there, and 
 everywhere; on the streets, at the clubs and 
 cafes. 
 
 One day, as they were walking up Fifth Avenue 
 together, observing the medley of architecture on 
 that thoroughfare of riotous conceptions, Mantwa 
 said : 
 
 "The structures on this street remind me of your 
 foolisli Fraternity. Look at these mansions and 
 houses. Study their styles. They are Greek, Goth- 
 ic, early Roman, Byzantine, Old English, Colonial, 
 Dutch, Modern, and what not — some of them a 
 medley of all. Surely, here is Variety. In order to 
 blend them into harmonious proportions, you would 
 first have to destroy them. And so with the mem- 
 bers of your band of Yugendspeil, who are as 
 greatly diversified and contrasted in their personal- 
 ities and the inner workings thereof — nay, even in 
 the outward expression, forsootii, as are the styles
 
 l^auDetJille 107 
 
 of these structures; and, like the master inliabitant 
 of each of these, so the inner spirit of each of your 
 members whispers to himself: 'Well, if I am not It 
 among this bunch, I am at least somewhat different.* 
 And also, like unto these, does each member of your 
 band make his front for show purposes. Only in a 
 different way. How absurd it would seem to you ii 
 someone said that all the dwellers on this avenue 
 could be taught to believe in the same idea." 
 
 "They do believe in the same idea," said the Dro- 
 mio. "They believe in gold. Each may pretend to 
 believe in something else, but they are all one as re- 
 gards the god they worship, which same is Mam- 
 mon. Yellow, glittering gold. And yet these men 
 with their surplus millions know that in this 
 same city there are thousands of human beings starv- 
 ing for a crust." 
 
 "Surely," laughed Mantwa, "you do not believe 
 that all men were born free and equal, do you? 
 Surely, you do not believe that a Russian serf is as 
 free and equal as an American, for instance, who is 
 the outcome of seven generation of thinkers, do 
 you?" 
 
 "I shall answer your first question first," said Dro- 
 mio. "I do not know that all men were born free 
 and equal, but I do KNOW that they should all have 
 an equal chance. I do not believe that a Russian serf 
 is the intellectual equal of a thinker, and the reason 
 why he is not is on account of centuries of oppres-
 
 To8 ^p LaDp 
 
 sion. Who were his oppressors? They were of the 
 same class as those who now dwell in these gor- 
 geous, many-portalled caves on this modern avenue. 
 They used him, instead of being of use to him. Oh ! 
 I dream of a day when there will be no serfs or op- 
 pressors on this earth ! Of a day when all men will 
 try to be of use to their fellowmen." 
 
 "But," said Mantwa, "as regards these cave dwell- 
 ers, as you call them, who, as you say, worship the 
 yellow god, Mammon, surely their deity seems to 
 treat them pretty well in this life — which, by the 
 way, is the only one they know of, and perhaps 
 they interpret that as a sign that they are 
 right. That they are doing right. That they are 
 spending their lives in the proper manner. And what 
 should we believe in, if not in signs? They take 
 the cash of life, and let the credit go, and all signs 
 bid them do so. The words of men are other 
 things." 
 
 "And yet," said the Dromio, "they visit these tem- 
 ples once a week, and pretend to worship an idea 
 wholly opposed to their lives. They pretend to wor- 
 ship a Savior who drove them from the temple, and 
 who gave His life to lead them into opposite paths 
 from those which they now pursue. It is heart- 
 breaking." 
 
 "No," said Mantwa, "it is funny. They play 
 their parts; they keep their eyes on their lure; but 
 you have come to my point: you say they pretend to
 
 l^aiiUetiflle 109 
 
 worship. That is it. They pretend; and that is 
 man, pretense. All men are pretenders. And this 
 pretense is a wonderful thing. It helps to make 
 the comedy interesting. But what is most ludicrous, 
 they all pretend to believe each other's pretendings. 
 Of course, there are exceptions ; those who have faith 
 in legends and dreams. But you know what nature 
 does to exceptions. And, as with other men, so with 
 your fellows : they also are pretenders, on and off 
 the stage ; they don't believe in anything ; they don't 
 even believe in themselves. Most of them would 
 rather be some one else. That is one of the reasons 
 why they take to the stage. Deception is part of 
 their life. And they will pretend and pretend, and 
 you can do nothing with pretense. You can accom- 
 plish their advance only by simple faith, and faith 
 is impossible with them. When they are not in- 
 wardly winking, they are in doubt. If your Society, 
 during these days of enthusiasm, they may all think 
 that they mean to be loyal. That is the way we 
 are constituted; but, as Brutus says, 'when they 
 should endure the bloody spur, then fall their crests, 
 and, like deceitful jades, sink in the trial.' " 
 
 "I notice," said the Dromio, "that, notwithstand- 
 ing your cynicism, you seem to admit that these 
 fellows of mine are not unlike the rest of man- 
 kind?" 
 
 "Of course, I admit that," replied Mantwa, "and 
 more; they emphasize mankind. Their very busi-
 
 no 0^p JLaDp 
 
 ness is to reflect back the follies and foibles of the 
 rest of the people. They are the epitome of the pub- 
 lic, and therefore more difiicult to handle. And 
 often they give the public its cue for all sorts of 
 crazy innovations as regards dress and vernacular. 
 They know the pulse of Momus, and in catering 
 to the general, they set the pace for the frivolous." 
 
 **Then you admit that they have at least an indi- 
 rect influence on certain classes?" said Dromio. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, if you could conceive of some scheme, or 
 dream, or plan, to enfranchise any one class, or 
 even one man, from a state of moral and mental tor- 
 por, would you not try it?" 
 
 Mantwa shrugged his shoulders: "I suppose so, 
 if I believed it possible." 
 
 "Well, then, listen," said the Fool. "It is a com- 
 paratively insignificant matter whether my people 
 win or lose during my life, or what they may do to 
 me, so long as a Fraternity can be perpetuated 
 among them, so that they will eventually, as a pro- 
 fession, merit the respect of the world. It is like 
 marching an army from darkness into light. It is 
 the same as founding a wandering nation, and it 
 can be done with a few precepts: Look up! Be 
 brave ! Love each other ! Own yourself, your Art, 
 and all its enterprises! It matters not how con- 
 trasted their personalities may be; all men are con- 
 trasts, more or less. The souls of some are the cul-
 
 mination of thousands of years of civilization, while 
 others have just clambered down from the trees. 
 It is certain that we all did not start manward at the 
 same time. While some were still in the protoplasm 
 stage, others, who had started thousands of years 
 before, were taming the behemoth and building tem- 
 ples. We are the descendants of both the old and 
 the new, the experienced and the nescient ones, and 
 that is why it is difficult to understand each other. 
 Hence, the myriad ententied tragi-comedy of life. 
 As we started millions of years apart, we are still 
 millions of years from each other. And as we all 
 wear the same guise of bipeds now, no man knows 
 another's handicap in the long race through the cor- 
 ridors of time, and therefore no man should judge 
 his fellow. But here is my point: We are all un- 
 conscious absorbers of each other's worth. The 
 lesser must profit by contact with the greater, even 
 as light dispels darkness. And all the light that has 
 come to men has been shed through the spirit of 
 Fraternity. All the religions of the world are 
 founded on it. It matters little whether they kill the 
 leader, and serve him as a feast to the enemy or to 
 the gods ; so long as the idea for their uplift can be 
 perpetuated, others will come and find his pebbles to 
 be pearls. Such is the value of an idea. It matters little 
 if all the present enthusiasts of the earth were to give 
 their lives for their convictions, so long as the idea 
 is perpetuated their followers will one day become
 
 112 Qip LaUp 
 
 great enough to have faith in each other, and con^ 
 fidence in themselves. But as we live in a commer- 
 cial age, these people of mine must first own them- 
 selves. So, unfortunately, the appeal has to be made 
 to their pockets, as well as to their hearts. Just now, 
 they are struggling to protect what they have 
 earned, namely — the commercial value of their rep- 
 utations, and prevent the very effacement of their 
 individualities, as well as to save that which has al- 
 ways been theirs, but which they have never yet re- 
 ceived: A certain percentage of their earnings. 
 However, here it is seven o'clock, and we are at 
 125th Street. Let's go to a restaurant, and after 
 dinner I'd like you to come with me to Koster & 
 Bial's and see the show." 
 
 "Right you are," said Mantwa. 
 
 After dining they arrived at the Music Hall at 
 8:45 P. M. The entire programme was given by 
 White Rats, and the Fool seemed to know the life 
 history of each. 
 
 The second turn was on when they arrived. A 
 young, slender girl, who sang songs. The audience 
 was rather indifferent. "She is what we call an 
 early turn," said the Fool. "She gets forty dollars 
 a week, when she can secure engagements, and keeps 
 an invalid mother and a consumptive brother." The 
 next turn was a well-known black-faced comedian. 
 He was a success. During his performance, Dro- 
 mio explained that he had been booked for a season
 
 l^autietJille 113 
 
 by the Syndicate, but had been cancelled for playing 
 a week at one of the Independent Halls. He had a 
 wife, who had been paralyzed for years, and whose 
 side he never left, except to come to the perform- 
 ance. Then came a sketch team (a man and 
 woman). "How do you like them?" said the Dro- 
 mio, when they had concluded their farce, which 
 went big, 
 
 "Oh ! they will pass muster," said Mantwa. "They 
 can act, and they both seem to enjoy what they are 
 doing." 
 
 "Well," said the Dromio, "both their hearts are 
 breaking, and I know it. They have struggled all 
 their lives together, and every dollar they have been 
 able to save has been spent in trying to save the life 
 of their only boy." 
 
 And so on through the whole programme the 
 Dromio continued to lift the curtain on the sorrows 
 and sacrifices of his fellows in The Merry World 
 of Make Believe. When they came out of the thea- 
 tre, Dromio said : 
 
 "Those are a few of our pretenders." Then he 
 said good night, leaving Mantwa pondering.
 
 114 ^V JLaDp 
 
 XIV. 
 
 ((^WEETEST days," says Carlyle, "Sweetest 
 ^^ days, when (astonishing to say) mortals 
 have actually met together in communion 
 and fellowship; and the man, were it only once 
 through long despicable centuries, is for moments 
 verily the Brother of man." Ever wider burns the 
 flame of federation; ever wider and also brighter." 
 Golden autumn has gone, and early winter is here, 
 yet every hour enthusiasm for the cause grows 
 fonder in the Fraternity. Telegrams of congratula- 
 tions and encouragement pour in from all over the 
 country. Nay, some grievances are occasionally re- 
 ported in the mass of missives which the Secretary 
 reads at each meeting to the members assembled. 
 Reports come in of ignoble treatment of members by 
 certain managers, and of insults to the Society. The 
 press representatives continue to howl anathemas at 
 the leader. Also it is suspected that some spies are 
 in the Order, paid or bribed by the Opposition, but 
 one would have to be a lion fox — an eagle and a
 
 l^auUetJille 115 
 
 ferret, to find them, for it is peculiar to all Frater- 
 nities (Folly land not excepted) that any fellow 
 member may speak, even though he favors the Op 
 position; even though he wards off every stroke 
 made for their welfare, and turns the very currents 
 of their rivers of life towards the shores where the 
 enemy is armed and waiting. And though one may 
 suspect them, until positive proof is at hand, one 
 may suspect and suspect. Nay, though you see hell 
 gleaming in a fiend's eyes, until you can prove it to 
 those who see it not, you may guess and guess, and 
 doubt, and then you may lie down and dream. For 
 are they not Brothers in disguise? And have they 
 not words and insidious inferences to make skep- 
 tical the faithful and cajole the weak? We are all 
 Brothers, forsooth, but, alas! there is no Siamese 
 ligament joining us to prove it. We are all still 
 some aeons apart, and it is appalling to consider how 
 few have led all the millions of nonentities through 
 the centuries of night toward the dawn. However, 
 what will be, will be. 
 
 In the Society a Board of Directors has been 
 formed and a Board of Electors. Also, a Star Cab- 
 inet, mostly composed (for business purposes) of 
 members best known to the public, yet not without 
 a due regard for integrity. A proposition has been 
 carried that all members will refuse to sign for the 
 coming season any contracts containing the five per 
 cent commission clause. In negotiations, they will
 
 ii6 ^j) Latii) 
 
 first insist upon their own (White Rat) contract, 
 which is equitable ; and, f aiHng in that, they will be 
 allowed to sign with any individual member of the 
 Managers' Association on his own individual con- 
 tract (minus the commission), but not through the 
 Association itself, unless the commission clause be 
 omitted. The managers refuse to sign either the 
 White Rat contract, or a neutral contract, which has 
 afterwards been drawn up and submitted, and which 
 makes no mention of either their Association or the 
 Fraternity of the White Rats. The managers also 
 refuse to do business as individuals, unless said busi- 
 ness is transacted through their Association. They 
 stand pat while the days go by, and the work of the 
 Society goes on. As yet there is no abatement of 
 enthusiasm. Many candidates are initiated every 
 Sunday. Many speeches and predictions are made. 
 Each meeting lasts from five to eight hours. Said 
 five to eight hours are of interest most intense. The 
 coming summer Carnival is much debated. The 
 band plays often. They sing. They cheer. They 
 applaud each other. Confident in themselves, they 
 have let down some of the higher barriers, as it 
 were, and admitted some of the rank and file, as they 
 were called. The meetings grow more noisy. The 
 arguments more heated. Each new influx of mem- 
 bers brings in so much more steam, and so much 
 more organized flesh and bone, yet segregated into 
 clayey masks, each with the label of his craft on
 
 l^auDetJille 117 
 
 him, and each supposed, by certain philosophers, to 
 be guided by a soul pilot, all of which same are to 
 be tried out during the coming hours when the 
 sifting process begins, when they will ascertain 
 which are the sheep and which the goats, or which 
 the lions and the wolves, or any similie you wish. 
 
 Therefore, let us take one more brief glimpse at 
 them while they are still happy, for it is problem- 
 atical whether we shall ever see their like again 
 joined together in one band. Not unless the Dro- 
 mio's dream comes true and man's faith in his 
 brother man is born of his own desire to be of use 
 to him. 
 
 There is nearly a thousand of them in and out of 
 town. In other cities, all over the United States, the 
 travelling members, those who were playing engage- 
 ments on the road, hold what they call scampers, or 
 social meetings — at least in every city where a 
 quorum of Brothers can be got together, and at 
 some of those there are scores present; hence, wine 
 and talk flow freely. Reports of each are forwarded 
 to the Lodge and read at every meeting. If any 
 student of sociology could have taken a casual 
 glance at one of those home meetings at this time, he 
 would have been amazed if told that they even pre- 
 tended to harmonize. Especially if he had a fore- 
 knowledge of the temperament of stage people. They 
 were from nearly every walk of life, and from every 
 groove of the show world. Actors who had played
 
 ii8 g^p jLaDp 
 
 "Hamlet," melodramatic stars, princely salaried op- 
 eratic star Comedians, and every brand of farceur, 
 from the light and airy comedy man to the knocka- 
 bout clown: Patter Men, Sketch Artists, Posture- 
 masters, Jugglers, Bicyclists, Globe Rollers, Hoop 
 Rollers, Dancers, Magicians, Gymnasts, Negro Im- 
 personators, Musical Artists, Acrobats, Contortion- 
 ists, Skaters, Shadowgraphers, Lightning Caricatur- 
 ists, Song Writers, Sketch Writers, Ballad Singers, 
 Shakesperean Reciters, Dog Trainers, Broadway 
 Favorites, Whistlers, Wire Performers, Exhibition 
 Swimmers, Wrestlers, Boxers, Strong Men, Weak 
 Men, and Monologue Men. All now in Vaudeville, 
 which is Variety. Yea, verily, it is Variety. Surely 
 here is material for a Babel, and yet there will be no 
 Babel. Babel there was, and a plenty, before the ad- 
 vent of the Star of Fraternity, which will lead them 
 from the dark desert and the confusion of many 
 tongues into the Land of Dawn, where they will all 
 speak the one language that no slave may speak, 
 the Language of Brotherly Love, which same is the 
 Song of the Nightingale — at least, so dreams that 
 sad-faced Fool of a Dromio, who refuses to accept 
 the world's idea of the proportion of things, and who 
 is therefore one of the strangest, if not, indeed, one 
 of the most foolish fellows in the world. 
 
 It is a strange, many-mannered Brotherhood, this 
 Society of Stars, even as the stars in the heavens 
 are great and small. Or like the sands on the sea-
 
 l^auDetJille 119 
 
 shore, ground by the waves of time, from all the 
 crumbling rocks of life's wonderful ocean. The em- 
 phasized epitome of all society; reflecting the man- 
 ners of all. From those who would give their lives 
 for a sentiment, to those whom neither experience, 
 plan, precept, or example, could rouse to listen to 
 anything but the voice of ridicule. If man is to be 
 modified by society, surely here is a test. Men, who 
 were thought to be wits, because they phrased the 
 thoughts of their betters in slang; and angels, who 
 paid them homage, because they knew neither their 
 own worth nor the methods of Charlatantry. Life 
 is what you read into it with your own soul, and 
 there were those among them who read the spirit 
 of their fraternity so clearly that they felt the heav- 
 ens lifting them to higher things, and of their "dead 
 selves" making "stepping stones," and they were 
 shoulder to shoulder with those who, hearing only 
 noise and confusion, guessed it was some huge joke, 
 and formed cliques, and gave them names, which 
 parodied the name of their Order. There were cir- 
 cus performers who were seers without words, and 
 wordy men without a thought. There were frivolous 
 tragedians, serious comedians, solemn clowns. The 
 world-wide and self-centred. All the lights, tints and 
 shades of life's phantasmagoria, emphasized by fate, 
 for the purpose of reflecting back to semi-civilized 
 man his follies and foibles ; and now, though still as 
 far apart as the stars from each other, all in one sys- 
 tem, for the first understanding in Follyland.
 
 120 ^p La Dp 
 
 XV. 
 
 LOOK at them through Dromio's eyes. There 
 was that happy George Monroe, who after- 
 wards became Chief of the Order; born 
 to be a boy forever; as loyal in his heart as clever 
 in his work; always jovial, laughing, good natured, 
 yet solid and immovable in all matters concerning 
 the Cause. With what withering scorn could those 
 black eyes burn up some adversary suspected of 
 trickery or selfish intrigue. A descendant of Presi- 
 dent Monroe, and with Scotch seriousness at the 
 bottom of him. Sensitive, impulsive, quick tem- 
 pered, yet on the level for all that, even though 
 the earth is round. To such as he the Order 
 is a serious thing, a very religion, for does he 
 not insist that the Prayer of the Ritual shall be read 
 at the opening of every meeting? He gave the 
 Order the best password it ever had, and indeed the 
 best password that all the Brothers of earth may 
 ever learn, and from the day he joined he worked 
 earnestly for tlie good of all. A good friend, and a
 
 l^auDeUille 121 
 
 good man. And the Dromio would also have told 
 you of that boy — that mere boy — who, before he 
 was eighteen, had all the world singing his songs; 
 who sang and danced with his sister, acted with his 
 father and mother, played the violin himself. Who, 
 in his early twenties, had made his whole family 
 famous and rich, and himself a millionaire; who 
 gave his money to beggars in secret, and blushed to 
 find it fame. Who presented his old-time friends 
 with fortunes of many thousands of dollars at a 
 time when they were in need, and secretly arranged 
 so that others of his afflicted fellows should Uave 
 incomes for life. Who organized worthy charities 
 and institutions for newsboys and waifs, and who, 
 when rich and famous, sold papers on the street at 
 $100 apiece for those in distress. Who, as a boy, 
 wrote all the best sketches and songs in Vaudeville 
 and many musical plays. Who created innovations in 
 play writing; who drew characters as he saw them in 
 life, then engaged the very originals and let them 
 play themselves; who wrote the book, music, lyrics, 
 designed the costumes, taught the chorus, staged 
 and directed everyone of his own creations, and 
 whose career has only just begun. 
 
 Not always is genius combined with that true 
 greatness of heart, called sympathy. However, it 
 is certain that he never forgot a friend or bothered 
 to remember an enemy. In future years his career 
 will read something like a modern fairy tale. So
 
 122 ^^ jtaDp 
 
 one cannot but wonder how the aesthetic, mental 
 anaemics of Theatredom are ever going to encom- 
 pass a natural star of this magnitude. He is more 
 than a genius, he is a man, and a friend of his fel- 
 low-man, and this outweighs all the genius in the 
 world. A glimpse of his heart may be gleaned from 
 the following remark : "All I want to do is to work, 
 and learn, and make people happy." And that he is 
 living up to this principle is evidenced by the fact 
 that, without needing to do so, he is still working 
 himself to a shred to keep that thankless, thought- 
 less many-mooded jade, the Public, laughing, while 
 she little dreams that much of that which she pays 
 for her merriment goes through his hands to those 
 who have burnt themselves out in her service. All 
 this the Dromio would have told you about George 
 M. Cohan. Then there was his father, Jeremiah, dear 
 old Jerry, who struggled all his life, ahead of his 
 time, but who had the satisfaction of seeing all of 
 his ambitions evolved, and recognized by the world, 
 in the person of his boy, and his highest hopes ful- 
 filled in the destinies of his dainty daughter 
 Josephine. 
 
 Good Hugh Mack was also one of the very earli- 
 est members, unswerving and zealous at all times 
 for the Cause. It is too bad to pass this man up 
 with a line, as he is worthy of a book. He did much 
 in his way for the Society, and his way was always 
 the right way, the kind way. Hugh was the good
 
 l^auDeDille 123 
 
 Samaritan. When anyone was ill or in need, always 
 the cry was, "Appoint Hugh Mack as a committee 
 of one! He will investigate." And it was Hugh 
 himself who was always searching for those cases 
 of distress, and always caring for them. Hugh 
 Mack is a simple fellow, and plain, but he has that 
 greater wisdom, the wisdom of the heart. 
 
 There was Junie McCree, artist to his finger 
 tips, and greater as a man than artist. He would 
 have made a success in any other profession as 
 well as this. Brains are in his head, and wit upon 
 his lips. He is the principal star of a coterie whose 
 business it is to keep the Order laughing; some, with 
 quip and quirp of repartee; some, with slang, fly, 
 up-to-date gibberage, understood only in Follyland, 
 and others with mere clowning. But Junie's humor, 
 like his characters and caricatures, is artistic. 
 
 Colie Lorella was a good committee worker, and 
 a fighter from 'way back, very decided in his con- 
 victions, quick tempered, and of expression most in- 
 tense. His language was of the vernacular persua- 
 sion, and at times quite picturesque. An anecdote 
 will best explain him. He hated any kind of sham, 
 hypocrisy or sophistry, or double dealing, and one 
 day he was telling the Chief his opinion of certain 
 members whose duplicity he suspected, and he did 
 not mince his words. The Chief was in the habit 
 of illustrating his points with quotations from the 
 Masters. He would say, "as Emerson says," or "as
 
 124 ^1? Ha Dp 
 
 Shakespeare says," etc., and this day, when Colie 
 had worked himself into a frenzy by calHng the 
 suspected ones every name in his vocabulary, he fin- 
 ished by pounding himself on the chest, and yelling 
 to the Chief : "And that ain't Emerson, or Tenny- 
 son, or Hicks, or Blicks, or anybody else but me! 
 That's Colie Lorella, that is! Just plain Colie Lo- 
 rella ! and it goes !" 
 
 Special mention should be made of Walter Le Roy 
 and George Felix, neither of whom ever missed a 
 meeting, and both of whom did all in their power 
 for the upbuilding of the Society, as did clever 
 Georgie Evans, The Honey Boy; and Fred Niblo, 
 with his bright ideas; and Richard Staley, who gave 
 many hundreds of dollars to the Society, and worked 
 like a Trojan for the general welfare. So did Nat 
 M. Wills, with money and brains ; and James Harri- 
 gan, first and best Tramp Juggler; and Horace 
 Goldin, the great illusionist; and George Delmore, 
 Dromio's friend, staunch and true to the core; also 
 his partner, J. W. Lee, and the perennial Bobby Gay- 
 lor, a boy of fifty-odd summers; the Burke Broth- 
 ers, Harry O. Hayes and Marty Healy, Eugene 
 Ellsworth, Todd Judge, Harry Luken, Bobby Mack, 
 Tom Nawn, John Ransone, Ed Provost, Harry 
 Stanley, Raymond Teal and Freddy Wanne, Joe 
 Birnes, whose integrity in the Investment Fund will 
 not soon be forgotten; Ed Keough, later on to be- 
 come the Sherlock Holmes of Starland; and big-
 
 l^auDetJflle 125 
 
 little Major Doyle; and that other original ferret, 
 Ralph Post. Then there was John World, who gave 
 his whole self to the Order at all times, and rendered 
 great service, as did Frank Gardner, Jess Dandy, 
 Fred Hyland, William Keough, M. J. Sullivan, John 
 Conroy, Charles McDonald, Ramsey and Arno, The 
 Rixford Brothers, Sam Sidman, whose good work 
 helped the Order greatly; Lew Flatt, the Powers 
 Brothers, Fred Mardo, the stoic philosopher; and 
 the late Paul Dresser, who wrote sweet, homely 
 songs that will wet the cheeks of all Americans 
 for many years to come; also Mart M, Fuller, 
 who, in the after dark days, always gathered 
 a quorum together every Sunday so that the Order 
 never missed a meeting, and who, after two years' 
 constant fighting, carried his proposition to let the 
 negligent members back in the fold in the form of 
 reinstatement. Then there were Tim McMahon, 
 with his stories always on tap, and Ren Shields, 
 Bohemia's best clown off the stage, barring little 
 Johnny Stanley, who ties him for fun at the Rat's 
 Scampers; and that ever-smiling genius of mirth, 
 Eddie Foy, who helps to keep the world so young. 
 Some men say, "I am for my Country;" Henry 
 George said, "I am for Men." Eddie says, "I am 
 for the Actor." 
 
 These were the true Knights of Starland. These 
 were the men who kept the Society's heart beating in 
 after years, when oxygen was necessary. When,
 
 126 ^P Laup 
 
 after the crisis, people said that the Order was dead, 
 these men said, most emphatically, "No! it lives! 
 We are its heart! Look at us!" And against ridi- 
 cule, mockery, sneers and intimidations, they held 
 the rudder true through all the dark hours. Un- 
 conscious of their own true worth, "as all true 
 worthies are," they themselves little knew the good 
 they accomplished. And, as in proportion to educa- 
 tional value, will the ripened blossoms of this early 
 loyalty inure to the benefit of all the public (if only 
 by reflection), neither their profession nor the world 
 may ever know the debt of gratitude they owe to 
 these men. What a wonderful thing is a constant 
 heart ! 
 
 It is worth remarking, also, among all the mem- 
 bers of the Fraternity, those who were most profic- 
 ient in their work on the stage were those who were 
 most loyal and faithful to the Cause of their Order; 
 and what is more remarkable still, each year has 
 brought everyone of them still greater success since 
 those days. 
 
 Of course, among them were some uncon- 
 sciously humorous characters, as, for instance, 
 James Cook, or Cookie, as they called him. Well- 
 known as a good performer in his business, as the 
 saying goes, and well liked by everybody. He was 
 an acrobatic comedian, and possessed what is called, 
 in circus phraseology, "a great shoulder lift," which 
 means that he was springy and lofty in his jumping,
 
 l^auDetiillc 127 
 
 tumbling and high kicking; and it is a fact that 
 Cookie would rather jump over a fence when he 
 came to it than walk through the best gate that ever 
 swung on hinges. He was a gladsome person, this 
 Cookie, of an exuberant, good-natured disposition, 
 very enthusiastic, very intense, and, let it be said to 
 his everlasting credit, he was sincere. However, when 
 talking, he had the strangely unfortunate habit of 
 illustrating his words with violent actions and ges- 
 ticulations. This made it difficult for people to listen 
 to him without smiling, and the more serious he be- 
 came, the more laughable he appeared. He was 
 thick-set and swingy. If he said, "Don't get chesty !" 
 he would expand his own chest several inches, to 
 illustrate what he meant. A product of the old Va- 
 riety days — except for the fact that he chewed to- 
 bacco — his habits were temperate; though the same 
 could not be said of his speech or actions. He was 
 one of those many merry men who stand in groups 
 on corners and settle all theatrical questions. With 
 his white Melton double-breasted box coat, derby 
 hat, tilted to one side, one glove half pulled on, and 
 twirling his cane with the other hand. Whenever 
 he stood still, which was seldom, he would cross one 
 foot over the other, put his cane behind him, and sit 
 on the handle of it. Whenever he started to talk, he 
 began to walk up and down, and twirl his cane. 
 When he became emphatic, he would slash the air 
 with it, and he was always emphatic. In the So-
 
 128 Q^p JLatip 
 
 ciety. Cookie was always burning to make a speech, 
 but his violent manner usually aroused such hilarity 
 that he was never able to proceed very far before he 
 would be laughed down and out, or ruled out of 
 order. One day, in the middle of a speech, he was 
 telling about side-stepping some one, and he jumped 
 sideways half-way across the hall, and although he 
 was dead serious, the roar of laughter that followed 
 this action drowned all further words that he fain 
 would have uttered. And so it ever was with 
 Cookie : he was never able to make a speech. Well, 
 never mind. Cookie, it is not your heart they are 
 laughing at, it is your way; and many another of 
 us are handicapped by our ways. There are many 
 things we would love to do, yet cannot do seem- 
 ingly or gracefully; as, for instance, write a book 
 or poem, telling the story of our own world, the 
 only world that any of us may know. We are all 
 in a way just as unconsciously ludicrous as you, 
 Cookie, and quite as incongruous, though most of 
 us don't know it, and therein is the blessing; a bless- 
 ing for you, and for us, Cookie — a blessing for 
 us all.
 
 Pautiem'Ue 129 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE Vaudeville Managers' Association at that 
 time had divided itself into two parts, 
 the Eastern and the Western Branches, they 
 were called. The Eastern Branch was comprised 
 of the Managers of all the Vaudeville Theatres 
 east of Chicago. The Western Branch of all 
 the Vaudeville in the blustering western Metropo- 
 lis, and of all those cities west of it, clear to Los 
 Angeles. Report had it that there had been much 
 strife among the proprietors of those amuse- 
 ment booths all over the country, not only in dif- 
 ferences of opinion between the two Branches, but 
 the individual members of each branch found 
 it difficult to agree. Their troubles had been very 
 serious at times, and many had threatened to re- 
 sign; and a delegate from the Eastern to the 
 Western Branch (who journeyed thither for the 
 purpose of pouring oil on the troubled waters of 
 the West), had been flatly told that the Eastern 
 members were a buncli of chumps (or worse)
 
 130 ^p La Dp 
 
 for allowing the White Rats to grow up under 
 their very noses; and though there were less 
 than a score of these managers all told, they had ex- 
 perienced much difficulty in keeping together after 
 the White Rats got started, even more than the 
 many hundreds of merry makers who, as has been 
 remarked, came from everywhere and nowhere — 
 from every walk in life, and from all over the 
 earth. As to one thing they were all agreed, how- 
 ever, and that was that the Society of the White 
 Rats must be wiped out in some way. And now 
 comes to the Fraternity the disquieting news that 
 certain of its members are signing the regulation 
 contract of the Association, and accepting the five 
 per cent, commission clause surreptitiously. Enter, 
 Fear. Right First Entrance. For the first time this 
 most awful guest — this most ghastly ghost that ever 
 visited earth, or man, nation, or Society, now makes 
 his appearance, and takes the centre of the stage. 
 Fear of each other. That is his name — SUS- 
 PICION. Who are the members who have signed 
 these contracts? Accusations are made, names are 
 given, denials come forth promptly and hotly, the 
 turmoil commences. A motion is carried that all 
 contracts, with whomsoever made, shall be brought 
 to the booking offices of the Society, and placed in 
 the safe as proof of sincerit}'. This also proves of 
 no avail. Soon many are accepting engagements, 
 and are playing for the Association, but there are
 
 l^auDetJille 131 
 
 few, if any, contracts in the safe of the Society. 
 Many reasons are given as to why they would pre- 
 fer to keep their own contracts, but all swear that 
 they have not signed a contract with a commission 
 clause in it since the edict went forth. Some admit 
 that they are paying commissions to the Association, 
 but they say they were booked before it was ruled 
 otherwise in the Order. They are not by many be- 
 lieved. At all events, their contracts are not in the 
 safe of the Society. Preachments are made, de- 
 claring this law to be a circumscription of individual 
 liberty. Paul Armstrong has been working hard 
 with the press men. The issue is now fairly before 
 the public. It is all about five per cent, commission 
 on their salaries. (Oh ! was it?) Everybody knows 
 it is not fair to engage a person for One Hundred 
 Dollars per week, and only pay him Ninety-five. 
 (Ah! if this were all.) It is whispered that Mr. B. 
 F. Keith, President of the Managers' Association, 
 is not in favor of commissions. Still, the clause re- 
 mains, and members are playing at the Keith 
 Houses and elsewhere for the Association, and their 
 contracts are Not in the safe. So another proposi- 
 tion goes through, that all contracts held by mem- 
 bers for any future time, later than two weeks 
 hence, shall be placed in the hands of the booking 
 secretary, and cancelled. They are going to find out 
 who is who. This also is not complied with. They 
 would pass these propositions unanimously, and
 
 132 93V JLaDp 
 
 when it came to executing them — well, that was 
 different. Talk, and shouting and cheering, are 
 one thing; but doing — well, that is something else. 
 Those were sore hours for the Dromio. His house 
 of dreams had begun to dissolve. Well, what would 
 you have them do, thou foolish man ? Throw away 
 twenty weeks of bread and butter and applause for 
 some vague dream of the future? Yea, verily. We 
 believe thou wouldst. Meanwhile, the turmoil in- 
 creases, not so much at the meetings as on the out- 
 side. There are undercurrent murmurings, whis- 
 perings, criticisms, discontent, denunciations, all 
 because some Brothers are working and others are 
 not, and those who are working, as well as those 
 who have engagements for the future, are supposed 
 to be breaking rules that others have kept, obviously, 
 to the great disadvantage of the latter. Letters 
 pour in advising drastic measures. Why not ask all 
 suspected ones to resign? Or expel them? Why 
 not, indeed? Because that living Ghoul of many 
 tongues, whose name is Rumor, says that many 
 other prominent members are booked under the 
 same conditions, and are only waiting for their en- 
 gagements to begin, when they will resign from the 
 Order. Not one word of this was true. A nice 
 little song could be written here, with a very long 
 title, called. It Was All Done by a Few from the 
 Other Side Who Worked Up the Whole Thing, even 
 as lago played upon the jealous mind of the noble
 
 l^auDetJille 133 
 
 Othello. However, it is as potent as it is untrue, 
 and something must be done. Something Must Be 
 Done to find out who is who. Scores are threatening 
 to resign, unless this something is done. The Dro- 
 mio is told so over and over again. There is a 
 meeting of the combined Board of Directors and 
 Electors. At this meeting certain members try to 
 turn the whole brunt of the coming storm on a cer- 
 tain manager named Poli, who did not belong to the 
 Syndicate. This was significant to the Dromio. 
 Poor old Poli! What had he done? He ran a 
 couple of insignificant theatres in New England that 
 were sort of fill-ins : places for odd weeks for such 
 performers as cared to occasionally play for less 
 than their regular salaries. Poor old Poli! He 
 had been overlooked entirely until this worked-up- 
 to-moment, when something must be done to pre- 
 vent the disruption of the Order. He could not get 
 into the Association at that time, and though he 
 booked through his agent, William Morris, rather 
 than through the offices of the Fraternity, still he 
 was nobody's enemy. However, he looms up now, 
 when it looks like something is going to be done. 
 The Dromio listens, but says nothing. That night 
 emissaries are dispatched to four theatres, to be 
 there on the afternoon of the coming morrow, but 
 they do not go to Poll's. They go to Keith's four 
 houses, which are in cultured Boston, sleepy Phil-
 
 134 ®P JlaDp 
 
 adelphia, benignant Providence, and noisy New 
 York. 
 
 The next day, near noontime, as Mr. E. F. Albee, 
 General Manager of B. F. Keith's Amusement En- 
 terprises, approached that particular temple of art 
 known as Keith's Union Square Theatre, he saw 
 several well-known faces, the owners of which 
 seemed to be in conference with each other and act- 
 ing rather strangely. It is supposable that one of 
 this group approached and confided unto him the 
 ominous news that there was likely to be no per- 
 formance at the Union Square that day, unless he, 
 Mr. Albee, could, in some way, secure the services 
 of new performers, as all those entertainers at pres- 
 ent engaged at that particular place of amusement 
 had suddenly been taken ill. 
 
 Also, that he, Mr. Albee, could acquire informa- 
 tion as regards any further particulars by applying 
 in person at the Fraternal Meeting Place of the 
 White Rats, which same was on 23d Street, where 
 the members of the aforesaid body were now as- 
 sembled, and where they would be in session all day. 
 
 As to the precise way in which this little piece 
 of news may have been conveyed to Mr. Albee, or 
 how it affected him, history doth not record. But 
 business is business; and if the Mountain will not 
 come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the Moun- 
 tain. At all events, it is certain that in a very short 
 time after the reception of this information, Mr.
 
 l^autietJille 135 
 
 Albee was climbing those stairs which led to the 
 Fraternal Hall of the Society. 
 
 It is reported to the members that he is outside. 
 To preclude any possibility of embarrassment, the 
 members retire — all except a committee of three: 
 Chief Dromio and two other members. Mr. Albee 
 is admitted. He wants to know what they want of 
 him? It is explained that they want nothing of him. 
 On the contrary, is there anything they can do for 
 him? "It is reported," says he, "that your members 
 are going on a strike this afternoon at the Union 
 Square Theatre." 
 
 "Not so, Mr. Albee," says Chief Dromio. "Our 
 members are worried so greatly over certain exist- 
 ing conditions that they are liable to fall ill, even 
 this afternoon, and in other cities besides New York, 
 as, for instance, Boston, Providence, and Philadel- 
 phia. But as these conditions which worry them 
 so can be easily adjusted to suit them, they will 
 most likely all get well at once, upon being apprised 
 of said alteration. Nay, they will become glad and 
 happy, and there will be exceeding rejoicing among 
 the faithful." 
 
 "But I can do nothing." says Mr. Albee, "with- 
 out the consent of the other Managers of our As- 
 sociation." "Then you should surely get that con- 
 sent at once," he is told. He then requests that a 
 committee of the Fraternity wait upon the Asso- 
 ciated Managers at their offices in the St. James
 
 136 ^p £aDp 
 
 Building that afternoon, at which place he will have 
 all the Managers assembled. His request is com- 
 plied with. And so that same afternoon a commit- 
 tee, including the Dromio, Harry Watson, Paul 
 Armstrong, James F. Dolan, James J. Corbett 
 and Stephen O'Brien (an Attorney), are ushered 
 into the presence of the Managers by that smiling, 
 suave lieutenant, Mr. D. F. Hennessy. The Mana- 
 gers are all present : all the members of the Eastern 
 Branch. Dromio is the spokesman for his party. 
 And if proof were wanting of his foolishness, of his 
 lurid absurdity, of his ignorance of those propor- 
 tions existing between mighty Managers and their 
 Merry Men, it is here to-day, hanging up on every 
 word that he utters. He tells them that to take five 
 per cent, from the salary of an artist, against his 
 wish, is wrong; even if they do persuade him to sign 
 a contract stipulating same. He tells them that to 
 use this five per cent., which amounts to hundreds 
 of thousands of dollars per annum, for purposes of 
 monopoly, is not fair. He says that to eliminate 
 competition, and reduce the salaries of those who 
 have made their money for them, is not just to the 
 artist or fair to the public, or other men of theat- 
 rical enterprise. Poor, foolish imbecile! He dares 
 even to suggest that a Theatrical Manager is not a 
 sacred being! He says to them: 
 
 "You gentlemen will experience much difficulty 
 in the future, unless you stop taking these commis-
 
 l^auDeuille 137 
 
 sions which are rightfully ours, and agree to sign 
 a contract which is equitable. And no matter what 
 you may do, all your efforts to put our Fraternity 
 out of existence will be in vain. It was conceived 
 of long before your Association was dreamed of. It 
 is founded on truth. It will live and grow great, 
 and unless you alter your methods, it will consume 
 you ! You are fanning the flames yourselves ! You 
 started the trouble. We were not molesting you. 
 Why have our members become so restless that they 
 insist upon finding out who is loyal, even by radical 
 methods? Who is the cause of this? Your Presi- 
 dent says he does not want the commissions. Then 
 why do you take them? Give us some light on the 
 subject. All we seek is simple justice and fair play. 
 Those are the basic principles of our Brotherhood. 
 You know what YOU are together for? For 
 money ! Nobody blames you for that, but you want 
 it all ! You aim through eliminating competition to 
 make it impossible for any person to open a theatre 
 in opposition to you in any city of the United States ! 
 What kind of entertainment will you give the public 
 if you succeed? And what salaries will you pay 
 the artists? You have already offered them much 
 reduced salaries. The reason they have not ac- 
 cepted them is because of our Society. We have 
 prevented them. We have built for ourselves a house 
 that cannot fall. Hope stands forever on its thresh- 
 old. You would send fear to visit us. Well, let
 
 liim come, and claim whomsoever he may. There 
 will still be others, and we shall see "who is who" 
 among us! We do not want those whom you can 
 frighten. Come, let us be fair. You are using the 
 commissions on our salaries to run your Association. 
 You say you do not want them. We say we do 
 want them. They belong to us. We are here to 
 see what you intend to do.'* 
 
 Something like this was the jumble-mumble of 
 incoherent verbiage poured forth on the hot breath 
 of our ridiculous one. He was interrupted many 
 times, each time threatening to leave, but was pre- 
 vented by members of his own committee, who 
 cautioned patience (which same by-play had all been 
 prearranged by them). 
 
 Finally, having thus delivered himself of his 
 tirade, he sits down and listens. They try to bluff, 
 persuade, cajole him. 
 
 There are arguments pro and con. Mostly con. 
 One of the many handicaps that our Fool labored 
 under was his inability to see the ridiculous futility 
 of appealing with such sentiments as truth, justice 
 or fair play, in this present age of Iron and Gold. 
 Neither perhaps could he see the incongruity of in- 
 troducing same into his frothy world of Make Be- 
 lieve; or, if he could, he was powerless to alter it. 
 Men must go the way they are made. Even fools. 
 And though he knew that similar sentiments ex-
 
 l^rtuDetJillc 
 
 139 
 
 pressed anent great affairs in all ages had "lighted 
 other fools the way to dusty death," still, must he 
 play his part and speak his piece, though it availeth 
 no more than to say prayers to a lion in a jungle.
 
 I40 ^P JLaDp 
 
 XVII. 
 
 AND what is it all about? Is it really some 
 small theatrical matter, this issue over 
 which these modern Associated Managers 
 and Merry Men are wrangling? It is about five 
 per cent., and this Fool does know, and it were 
 well if wiser ones could know it, too: That into 
 the coffers of whomsoever this five per cent, shall 
 eventually go, into those hands will also go eventu- 
 ally all the theatres of the world. If it is stopped 
 altogether, and no one take it, then the actors 
 must pay it into their own accounts, and invest 
 it collectively in their own theatres, if they would 
 protect themselves from the menace of greed, or 
 advance in any way unshackled by commercial 
 gyves. What does this mean? — this changing of 
 the course or the current of this five per cent, from 
 those who cater to those who aspire? In the hands 
 of the artists, it not only means protection for the 
 producers now, but freedom for the creators of 
 public diversion for all future time. With the Man-
 
 l^auUetJille 141 
 
 agers, it means control, power, monopoly of cater- 
 ing to the amusment-loving world. And managers 
 always cater, even as the public always flies to mor- 
 bidity. 
 
 Control by artists of their own enterprises means 
 a consciousness of a freedom to give that which is 
 best in them for the production of artistic effect, re- 
 gardless of all other considerations. Theatricals 
 have become necessary, and if the public cannot get 
 salt for its jaded palate, it will accept art for its 
 eyes, and even though the eyes understand not, they 
 will learn. Hence, the benefit. So in this age of or- 
 ganization, it has now become a question of who 
 shall eventually serve the public diversion. Caterers 
 or educators? Granted, that the Merry Men as a 
 body must first educate themselves. To do this, they 
 must first be free; and no man can be said to be 
 free while another man, or a syndicate of men, con- 
 trols his destiny. 
 
 What further proof is wanting that stage people se- 
 cure better results, and arrive at higher ideals, when 
 untrammelled — in short, that they prefer to educate 
 and amuse at the same time, than this fact : that the 
 best productions are always to be found in those 
 theatres where the actor is also manager, or at 
 least owns his theatre? 
 
 However, here is the Fool and his committee at 
 the Managers' offices, discussing this seemingly un- 
 important question (all important to the Fool) of
 
 142 ^p jLadp 
 
 who shall have the five per cent, commission on the 
 artists' salaries: The Association or the Frater- 
 nity? It will be remembered that these same com- 
 missions have heretofore (prior to the inception of 
 either Association or Fraternity) been paid to 
 a middle man (agent), who arranged the perform- 
 er's engagements for him. And although said Mid- 
 dle Man always worked in favor of the Manager, 
 when not in collusion with him (for, in truth, 
 he always felt beholden to him), still he was the 
 actor's only business representative, or was supposed 
 to be (at least he was an intermediary, who de- 
 scribed the nature of the performer's talent). He 
 blew the performer's trumpet as loudly as he dared, 
 without incurring the enmity of the mighty. How- 
 ever, now he has been eliminated, and both the As- 
 sociation of mighty managers and that great Fra- 
 ternity of Merry Men, The White Rats, want that 
 same poor pittance that this now cast-off "go-be- 
 tween" has struggled, lied, hustled, sweated, exag- 
 gerated, underrated, schemed, fought, intrigued, 
 bullied, been bullied, praised and libeled for 
 during all these years: and that same is 
 Five Per Cent. But is it so insignificant, after 
 all? If its full totality were known it amounts 
 to more than A Million Dollars per Year. And 
 we have seen how much depends on which di- 
 rection it may take. Where shall it go? Into whose 
 coffers shall it flow? Manager or Artist? Much
 
 l^auDetJille 143 
 
 depends on this meeting. And as has been said, 
 there is much noisy argument after Dromio's speech. 
 Finally, the Managers declare that they are power- 
 less to abolish the commisisons, until the next meet- 
 ing of the two Branches of their Association, West- 
 ern and Eastern, which is to be on the sixth day of 
 March. It is now the middle of February. They 
 "must consult with their Western members first." 
 They promise that at that forthcoming meeting of 
 the branches twain to have said commissions done 
 away with entirely, and the clauses omitted from all 
 contracts. They also promise that in the interim they 
 will not take these commisisons. However, they will 
 not sign an agreement to this effect, though they 
 are pleaded with to do so. They will merely give 
 their words. As a last resort, their words are taken, 
 the Fool and his Committee depart, and the perform- 
 ance at Keith's Union Square goes on as usual. So 
 do those other performances at Boston, Providence, 
 and Philadelphia, for a time, and the audiences at 
 each all wax merry and enthusiastic, little dreaming, 
 or having much need to care, that the merry Joeys, 
 Jesters, Jinglers and Joshers, who strut, fret and 
 amble before them with song and story on a stage 
 within a stage, have at least a semi-serious side to 
 their lives, where inward and outward struggles go 
 on forever. Or that they have but now put off for 
 a few days a crisis the outcome of which would
 
 144 ^P itatJP 
 
 mark the beginning of an advancement destined to 
 determine their status on earth for all future time. 
 
 Surely, movements of great possibilities in the 
 future are sometimes disguised as small affairs at 
 the time of their enactment. There was that simple 
 tax on the tea of the Colonials (another five per 
 cent.) which gave to the earth a new world of men 
 and women, said to be free and equal, and kingless, 
 who now call themselves citizens, to differentiate 
 from the word "subject," and who yet are subject 
 to many kings under the names of Brokers, Bankers, 
 Politicians and Monopolists. 
 
 However, our committee returns, and reports to 
 the Lodge. The communication is received with 
 favor. Everybody is glad that a crisis has been 
 avoided, even for a time, so long as those members 
 playing at the theatres named have proven loyal by 
 their willingness to act in accordance with the will 
 of the general body, which telephone messages and 
 telegrams prove to be the case. 
 
 So the excitement simmers down into suspense. 
 They will wait and see if the Managers will keep 
 their word.
 
 I^aunetjflle 14s 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 IT is at this time that one Ezra Kendall makes his 
 appearance among them for the first time. In 
 all professions, political parties, classes or 
 clans, there is ever a man whom it seems natural 
 for some other men to follow. Perhaps because in 
 his person, his words and ways, he seems to com- 
 bine the nearest approximation to their several 
 ideals. But perhaps for some reason, unknown to 
 men, will their eyes and hearts almost unconsciously 
 turn to him in crucial hours. Such a man among 
 Vaudevillains in those days was Ezra Kendall. 
 From the inception of the Order, members had 
 been saking, "Why does not Kendall join?" And 
 the question was asked oftener as the rank and file 
 became more numerous. Beautiful intuition of 
 those who have no words to speak, but only hearts 
 to feel. Intuition to be depended upon. But 
 mostly did the Dromio wish him to be in the 
 Fold. He wrote him letters frequently, endeavor- 
 ing to ascertain his reasons for remaining outside
 
 146 app JLaDp 
 
 the Fold. And always the answer came back: 
 "I will be there when most needed." He kept his 
 word to the minute. When the first dark cloud 
 of the approaching inevitable storm appeared, there 
 was Ezra at the next meeting with glad hearts all 
 around him shaking hands and jubilating. There 
 he was among them, smiling, shaking hands, saying 
 "Hush!" to compliments, and encouraging every- 
 body. Typically American, simple, modest, natural, 
 in some respects (let us say the word) great. Yea, 
 great, even though a Jester. And hath not our own 
 Nugent said that "Laughter is worship, as sincere 
 as prayer?" Well, yes, maybe, perhaps, sometimes, 
 if it be of the right kind, and born of convictions be- 
 gotten in that proper crucible — the heart. 
 
 But here he is with them now, this Kendall joker 
 — witty, apt, sensible, fearless, indefatigable. (Im- 
 agine such a man in the Merry World!) His work 
 has not begun as yet. Thus far he has merely writ- 
 ten a few letters to the Fraternity, which have met 
 with great acclaim. But this much they know — he 
 can be depended upon to keep his word. Yes, and 
 to think some thoughts, and express them. Well, he 
 will be much needed during the coming days, to oc- 
 casionally resuscitate short-winded wabblers who 
 have spent their breath in shouting, and have no 
 energy left for action. And for other, and still more 
 potent, reasons he will be much needed. 
 
 Prior to his joining the Order the Dromio had
 
 l^auDetJille 147 
 
 often wondered why so many members, enthusisatic 
 for the Cause, had nevertheless so much faith in 
 him, their friend on the outside? But when Ezra 
 joined, the Dromio understood. Referring to the 
 managers extracting five per cent, of the artists' sal- 
 aries for booking them at their own theatres, and 
 thus paying themselves for acting as agents for 
 themselves, Kendall said: "Why should an em- 
 ployer employ his employee to employ his em- 
 ployer ?" 
 
 When, in after days, they told him that there 
 would have been no strike if he had joined earlier, 
 he said : "There would have been a more extensive 
 one. It would have reached from Boston to Los 
 Angeles." 
 
 As was to be expected, the managers did not keep 
 their word. The Dromio felt that they would not, 
 but he wanted to give them every chance possible. 
 During the following week, members whose services 
 were in demand by the Association were sent for to 
 accept engagements. They were offered contracts 
 with the same old commisison clauses in them. These 
 applicants said, "We thought that there was an 
 agreement to omit commission clauses until the 
 meeting of your Eastern and Western Branches on 
 March 6th?" They were told that was a joke. The 
 report of this once more set the Society on fire, and 
 once more something must be done. Like a giant 
 cauldron of simmering clay, or coalesced clayey en-
 
 148 
 
 ®p La Dp 
 
 tities, that have been fitfully spluttering and sim- 
 mering over a huge fire, so the Society has been for 
 a few days, while waiting for this expected news, 
 which is all that is wanted to set it boiling. Again 
 speeches are made, and all sorts of plans projected. 
 During Liberty Hall there is hurrying and scurrying 
 and whispering groups, many differences of opinion, 
 much argument, and more gesticulation, yet when 
 the meeting is called to order, all is orderly and in 
 good form.
 
 l^auDetJille 149 
 
 XIX. 
 
 AMONG them at this time was an unknown 
 quantity. It was in the person of a certain 
 Brother and friend of man, named J. C. 
 Nugent. Jack Nugent, "Our Jack," they affection- 
 ately called him for many days after his advent. A 
 great surprise was this same Nugent on that day 
 when he unleashed himself for the first time and 
 turned on his verbal fireworks. A young Lochinvar 
 come out of the West. In a revolutionary age, he 
 would have been a Patrick Henry, or a very Danton, 
 Let Robespierre look to his laurels, for here is a man 
 who will even disdain the smile of the goose goddess 
 fame, in order to speak truth and warn all possible 
 traitors who might unhappily fail them in the com- 
 ing hour of trial. Unknown in the profession, and 
 to most of the members assembled there, unknown, 
 he told them what would happen (and what after- 
 wards did happen), and what they must be prepared 
 to do, and yet, what they never did do. An apple- 
 faced boy, with dark hair and sleepy eyes, capable,
 
 ISO ^P JLaDp 
 
 nevertheless, of flashing forth dark warnings to all 
 weaklings, he arose that Sunday afternoon, in an- 
 swer to some remarks made by the President, and 
 when he sat down everybody knew he was among 
 them. 
 
 When the pandemonium of approbation following 
 his speech had subsided, they began to ask each 
 other questions. "Who is he ?" "Oh ! some young 
 guy from the West." "Well, he certainly can spiel 
 some, can't he ?" "What's his name?" "Nugent." 
 "What does he do?" "A sketch with his wife." 
 "When did he join?" "Oh, I don't know. Just 
 lately, I guess." "Well, he ought to be in Wash- 
 ington, talking to those crooked Senators. He cer- 
 tainly had me going for fair." 
 
 And so it came about that the next day all Vaude- 
 ville New York was acclaiming this same motley- 
 masked descendant of the great Irish general as the 
 Vaudeville Bryan. It would be well could that 
 speech be remembered. It was sprung at the psycho- 
 logical moment, and was the first red fire that had 
 ever been touched off in the Order. It has blown 
 away now, with the winds of yesterday, but there 
 was a truly laughable circumstance in connection 
 with it which will bear repeating. It will be remem- 
 bered that whenever our friend Cookie took the floor 
 and attempted to speak he was never able to string 
 many sentences together before he would be laughed 
 down and out. And though Cookie did not relish
 
 l^auDetiille 151 
 
 this, he had to endure it, for, as he himself said, 
 "What can one guy do against six hundred ?" How- 
 ever, he was there on the day of the Nugent ora- 
 tion, and had tried several times to get his word in, 
 always being promptly called to order by the Chair. 
 When Nugent began to speak this day. Cookie was 
 one of his most attentive listeners, and everybody 
 was attentive. The speaker was listened to in abso- 
 lute silence. His words came slow at first, and 
 calm; his voice was resonant, yet sleepy, until he 
 warmed to his subject and poured forth the lava. 
 Oh! ye laughing gods who preside over the des- 
 tinies of earth's merry men, here is a wonder come 
 to town ! A man in a talky profession who can real- 
 ly talk, and who has something to say ! The orator 
 worked up to his peroration gradually. He told 
 them what frail creatures men sometimes were, mor- 
 ally, in hours of moral trial. The Big Chief had 
 said that we have only each other's words to depend 
 on in the coming crisis. How many of them were 
 going to be as good as their words? Did they all 
 deeply understand that a man's word of honor is 
 more binding tO a real man than any oath or obli- 
 gation? Until now, no man's word had been ques- 
 tioned. We accepted each other on simple faith. 
 "Well, Brothers," said he, "that is all right, and was 
 all right while we were sailing on calm seas, but a 
 storm is approaching. We must be true to each 
 other during this storm, ano^ no word has ever been
 
 152 0^p JLadp 
 
 spoken here to provide for what we shall do to him 
 or those who may fail us in the darkling hours. I 
 come to speak that word. I have come to warn the 
 traitor!" Here the orator's voice began to thunder 
 forth his rhetoric. His eyes flashed fire, his body 
 swayed, he waved his arms, emotion seemed to be 
 in every fibre of him! 
 
 "I have come to warn the possible traitors ! Your 
 profession is more dear to most of you that your 
 lives! Such is your obsession! Every laugh is a 
 heart throb — every word of applause is a thrill to 
 most of you! Such is your obsession! You say 
 this profession so dear to you is menaced by monop- 
 oly, and that the only way to win is to own it your- 
 selves! You are going to buy it with the five per 
 cent, commissions on your salaries ! You are going 
 to fight it out on these lines! Such is the issue! 
 Well, if there is no other way, if we must fight, let's 
 fight! But remember this: we are fighting money! 
 That is the weapon of the opposition! Our only 
 weapon is pure loyalty to each other, and therefore 
 I wish to provide for the slave who may fail to be 
 loyal in this coming hour of trial !" 
 
 Now the words came swifter, terrific! The 
 hands waved more frantically! 
 
 *'I wish to provide for him who shall fail us, and 
 so I propose, here, now, standing on my own two 
 feet, before you several hundred renowned and cele- 
 brated gentlemen, I propose (and I want my propo-
 
 l^auDetJille 153 
 
 sition carried unanimously), that the first member 
 of this Order who fails us during this coming storm, 
 shall be ostracized from our profession! That no 
 man who is now a White Rat will ever again shake 
 his hand in the spirit of Brotherly Love! That no 
 White Rat shall ever play on the same programme 
 again with him! That he shall be stamped by all 
 who know him as a Black Rat^ and go down into 
 desuetude and oblivion as a traitor to his fellows, 
 unloved, unhonored and unsung !" 
 
 In some such way as this did he finish his perora- 
 tion, and the effect on the members was tremendous. 
 They cheered and applauded for several minutes. 
 The band played. They sang the emblem, and then 
 they cheered some more. It took several minutes to 
 quiet them. The President pounded for order till 
 he splintered his gavel ; then he thumped a big brass 
 gong with a bass drumstick. And, when order had 
 finally been restored, and there was perfect silence 
 in the Hall, it was then that the incorrigible Cookie 
 arose and said, "That's what I've been trying to tell 
 you guys for the last six months." The scream of 
 laughter that followed this remark almost equalled 
 the cheering just ended. However, the Nugent prop- 
 osition was carried unanimously, as he wished it 
 to be, and the Vaudeville Bryan had made his debut 
 in the Fraternity of Follyland. 
 
 And yet, notwithstanding the punishment sug- 
 gested for wrongdoers in his oration, this same Nu-
 
 154 0ip JLaDp 
 
 gent (as was afterwards proven) would be one of 
 the first to deal leniently with erring ones, and 
 prompt to show mercy to the frail. But he wanted 
 to drill into their hearts the importance of their 
 pledges, and convince everybody that, as to that 
 phase of their affairs, there was to be no fooling. 
 From that day Nugent became an important factor 
 during the crisis, and a hard worker all through the 
 reconstructioiL
 
 IPautieUinc 155 
 
 XX. 
 
 THE meetings grew warmer, and still more 
 warm. There were Star Cabinet sessions, 
 meetings of the Board of Directors and 
 Electors, and daily meetings of the whole Order. On 
 the 2 1st of February the Dromio was in consultation 
 most of the day with his lawyers. That evening a 
 score of members were on their different ways to all 
 the principal cities east of Chicago. And on the fol- 
 lowing day — Lincoln's Birthday (Oh! most appro- 
 priate hour to strike for freedom!), Febraury 22, 
 1 901, there were no White Rats appearing on any of 
 the programmes given in any of the principal Vaude- 
 ville Theatres in the East or Middle West. Those 
 theatres that did not close their doors ran with Bio- 
 graphs working over time, and such non-rat (non- 
 star) and amateur talent as could be secured. David 
 Montgomery arrived in Boston that morning, and 
 before eleven o'clock he had all the Vaudeville per- 
 formers in the cultured city corralled in one large 
 suite of rooms, giving them instructions. George
 
 156 ^p £atip 
 
 Monroe was acting likewise in Philadelphia, Jack 
 Nugent in Buffalo, and other members in all the 
 cities concerned. And now Paul Armstrong's work 
 began to tell. The Associated Press of America had 
 leading articles in all the principal papers daily, 
 stating the cause of the crisis, and placing the issue 
 fairly before the public. The Dromio was inter- 
 viewed night and day by press representatives. The 
 managers published what they thought to be their 
 side, and also the amount of salaries paid to leading 
 stars, hoping to convince the public that they were 
 overpaid. They had no argument, because it was 
 apparent to everyone that ninety-five cents was not 
 one dollar. So they continued to threaten and fume, 
 and the Biograph continued to work overtime. That 
 they were surprised at the loyalty of the Fraternity 
 states it but mildly. They were astounded. Their 
 most frequent remark had been, "They cannot stick 
 together." They said: "They have never been 
 known to be true to each other!" And though this 
 opinion was based on statistics — Well, this time it 
 was different. Very few slipped or fell. In the So- 
 ciety the enthusiasm and excitement were so great 
 that whole companies, engaged at other houses out- 
 side of the Syndicate, and not concerned in the 
 fight, walked out, leaving the theatres dark, and came 
 to the Lodge rooms, mostly in their make-ups. How- 
 ever, they were marched right back again. Now, 
 the meetings of the Fraternity have become contin-
 
 l^auDetJflle 157 
 
 uous. Also there is continuous shouting and cheer- 
 ing, as the companies return from the different cities, 
 where they have left their engagements. When there 
 is not speech-making, the band is playing and mem- 
 bers are throwing their hats in the air, waving flags 
 and coats. It is the volcano burst open after so much 
 smoldering. And everybody is true, all except a 
 very few. In sane moments that occasionally inter- 
 vene, business is attended to. Theatres are secured 
 in different cities, companies are formed and sent 
 on the road, benefits are given to packed houses 
 that go wild with enthusisasm. The Dromio is 
 everywhere making speeches and haranguing mobs. 
 Thousands of letters and telegrams pour in from all 
 over the country and Europe, praising the good 
 work. Committees are formed to alleviate distress 
 — relief committees, financial committees, amuse- 
 ment committees, all sorts of committees. The 
 papers continue to publish articles and print photo- 
 graphs of the leading members and committees. 
 Public sentiment is all with the Merry Makers. The 
 people know that they are fighting for freedom — 
 for a just principle — for a right to have a voice in 
 their own affairs. This they know, but they don't 
 know all. They don't know how much it means in 
 the way of better entertainment. They don't know 
 what it will mean to all future generations of stage 
 people, and neither do they know that every battle
 
 158 ®P JLaDp 
 
 fought and won by any class against the power of 
 gold is a victory for all the people at the same time. 
 
 And so the exciting days fly by. The Western 
 Managers, seeing the trend of affairs, become 
 alarmed. They have members who are playing for 
 them send wires stating their friendliness to the 
 Order, and inferences that they never did believe in 
 commissions anyway. A committee is sent to Chi- 
 cago to secure an agreement with the Western 
 Branch, to the effect that they will book all future 
 engagements through the White Rat offices. This 
 committee of one returns with the agreement. He 
 is wrapped in the American Flag, and carried the 
 length of the Hall, while the band plays and the 
 members cheer. 
 
 Daily the excitement increases. Restrictions as to 
 equality of membership are done away with. The 
 bars are let down, so to speak, and everybody be- 
 comes eligible, for the reason that if they were not 
 in the Society, they were its natural enemies, and 
 would be used by the managers in trying to keep 
 the theatres open. And so the hoi-polloi comes 
 stampeding into the fold. They are initiated in 
 scores and fifties every day. Some of them have 
 not had engagements for months, and some not for 
 years. Persistent to remain in a sphere that their 
 merits bear no warrant of, most of them are in want, 
 and providing for their many needs soon proves a 
 serious drain on the relief fund. In the regular
 
 l^auDetJille 159 
 
 membership there were those who had given their 
 all, and who went about in want, yet asked for 
 nothing; and others, with less ability, and much less 
 reputation, with jewels plastered all over them, who 
 tried to squeeze money from the Relief Committee. 
 Surely they are a heterogeneous tribe. 
 
 For purposes of facility, the Relief Committee 
 paid certain bills for those who ran in debt for 
 daily wants, and all sorts of bills came in: Bills 
 from the baker, the grocer and shoemaker; $150 
 butcher bills, and yet the crisis lasted only two 
 weeks. Some people must have large families. One 
 member even borrowed $500 to pay alimony — and 
 never paid it back. Still the band plays, and the 
 cheering goes on. Finally, that much talked of and 
 looked for day, Alarch the Sixth, dawns, and the 
 Western Managers do not come to confer with their 
 Eastern Brethren, for obvious reasons. It is re- 
 ported that Mr. B. F. Keith will confer with the 
 Dromio at his (Mr. Keith's) hotel, the Holland 
 House. Dromio and a committee of two wait on 
 him that evening. Mr. Keith is quiet, good natured, 
 but reserved. He says he never was in favor of 
 commissions. He has done all in his power to have 
 them abolished, and as the Western Managers did 
 not come East to confer, he and hisconfreres will tell 
 the representatives of the press as much on the mor- 
 row. They will tell them that the Eastern Branch 
 will abolish commissions. To the Dromio this
 
 t6o 
 
 Q^p JLaDp 
 
 spells victory. If the members of the Managers' 
 Association will tell the New York press that com- 
 missions have been abolished, this is as good as an 
 agreement, because they could break any agreement 
 with as much impunity as they could break their 
 word. Whether they keep their word or not is a 
 matter for individual performers to attend to in 
 signing with them. The Committee returns with 
 this good news to the Star Cabinet, which is in ses- 
 sion and waiting, and there is much rejoicing. Mr. 
 Keith kept his word, and the next day the New 
 York press was teeming with accounts of the White 
 Rats' Victory, distinctly stating that the managers 
 had promised to abolish the commissions. The 
 Evening Journal had one page, with just three words 
 on it: *WHITB RATS WIN."
 
 l^auUetJille i6i 
 
 SubtUatwn, Struggle anb Strife. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Now the jubilation knows no bounds. The 
 victory is celebrated with wine and song 
 all over the United States. At a packed 
 meeting on the following day the Dromio, whose 
 physical strength was fast leaving him, summed up 
 the situation in the following words : 
 
 "We have won the battle. Victory is ours! But 
 whether it is virtual, or merely nominal, remains 
 with yourselves, as individuals. So you understand ? 
 It remains with yourselves to keep what you have 
 won, as individuals. The Society has won your 
 battle for you. The Society will do all within its 
 power to help you keep what it has won for you; 
 but it can do nothing if you secretly give hack as 
 individuals that which you have sf rived so hard to 
 win collectively. You understand how it is ; we have 
 won these commisisons, and that means that you 
 are privileged to insist upon a neutral contract with 
 each manager as an individual, and not book through 
 the offices of his association. You have won as a
 
 i62 Q^p LaUp 
 
 society, but you have not won as individuals, if 
 you place your brothers at a disadvantage by se- 
 cretly giving back that which they have helped you 
 to win. Now, it is all up to you. A Society cannot 
 put a new heart in a man, though it may give protec- 
 tion to the faint-hearted. In a few weeks there will 
 be no association of managers, if you insist as in- 
 dividuals on keeping what you have won collectively. 
 You all know, or should know, that you have joined 
 your hearts together for far greater things than this 
 live per cent. It is all stated in your Ritual, when 
 you are given the light of Starland. You have come 
 together to better your lives and all your conditions. 
 Therefore, you must perpetuate your Fraternity. 
 This five per cent, is merely an issue that you have 
 won. . It will mean much, if you use it collectively 
 to purchase interests in those enterprises which are 
 rightfully yours, and nothing if you keep it as in- 
 dividuals, or give it back in secret. You have been 
 good, strong and true ; you have won the first battle 
 in theatrical history; now, let us try and keep what 
 we have struggled so hard for, and some day we 
 will own our own world, and be respected and held 
 in esteem by all our fellows of earth." 
 
 There was much cheering, and more adulation for 
 the Fool. They offer him a salary of $10,000 a 
 year. He refuses to accept any remuneration. And 
 now a new struggle begins. It is that of trying to 
 keep the Society intact, and hold what it has won.
 
 l^auHeVJille 163 
 
 The booking department moves into new, large, lux- 
 urious offices on Broadway, with a dozen desks and 
 as many booking agents. Each has his special de- 
 partment. There are agents who book sketches, and 
 agents who book single turns, concert agents, agents 
 for the women, and committees in control of the 
 companies playing out of town at the leased theatres. 
 These companies were formed to keep such members 
 working as were not immediately in demand by the 
 Association, and in order to make financial ends 
 meet, they were supposed to accept half salaries in 
 cash and half in notes on the Society. Some pro- 
 claimed their salaries honestly, and some doubled 
 them, so that the half -cash they received amounted 
 to the full regulation salary, and the notes were sur- 
 plus. However, most all of them donated their 
 notes to the Society afterwards, when it became in 
 financial straits. 
 
 In a few weeks, the echoing rumblings of the war 
 have ceased, and things have quieted down on the 
 outside; but on the inside of the Society there are 
 certain murmurings. Pickets and ferrets are kept 
 on the lookout at certain offices for possible funkers, 
 who may not be disposed to show their contracts 
 when signed. But, ah! there are phones, long dis- 
 tance and otherwise, over which secret agreements 
 may be made, that no ferret may keep tab on. But 
 if there are murmurings among the merry men, 
 things are worse among the managers. They are at
 
 i64 ^p JLaD^ 
 
 loggerheads. Mr. B. F. Proctor leaves them. So 
 does Percy Williams. Tony Pastor left early in 
 the game. Mike Shea is going to leave, and eventu- 
 ally does leave. Hyde and Behman are on the 
 fence. Independent Vaudeville is being given in 
 New York, Boston, Buffalo, Philadelphia, Detroit, 
 Cleveland and Toledo, also on the Poli circuit. Poor 
 old Poli! The Western Branch is angry at the 
 Eastern Branch, and is writing sweet, honeyed noth- 
 ings to the Dromio, offering him engagements, etc., 
 and altogether there is great tribulation and unrest 
 in the managerial camp. But the long strain is be- 
 ginning to tell on the Fool. It is noticed that he is 
 far from well, so they send him West, to recuperate 
 his strength. Jim the Gipsy goes with him. Robert 
 Dailey accompanies them as far as Chicago. A 
 meeting is called in that Western city. Eligible can- 
 didates are made members, and booking offices are 
 established there also. Two members are left in 
 charge of the Chicago offices, with Robert Gaylor 
 as advisory. The Dromio rests for two weeks at 
 a health resort. When he returns to New York, a 
 testimonial for him is under way. It was one of the 
 biggest benefits ever given in New York. It was 
 held at Koster & Bial's Music Hall, 34th Street. All 
 the stars in New York took part in the performance, 
 at the conclusion of which they presented the Fool 
 with a TvOving Cup containing several thousand dol- 
 lars in gold. Nearly a hundred stars were crowded
 
 I^auneuille 165 
 
 on the stage. Tony Pastor introduced De Wolf 
 Hopper, who made the speech of presentation. 
 
 And now the weeks go by, and though every ef- 
 fort is made by the loyal members for the prevention 
 of any internal strife, still it is felt by these 
 same loyal ones that all is not so well in the Fra- 
 ternity. The battle is over, and there are many who 
 pretend to think that that was all the Society was or- 
 ganized for. Occasionally a resignation comes in, 
 and soon after the resigning member's name is seen 
 billed at the theatres controlled by the Association. 
 Many members are out of work, and have no offers 
 for future engagements. There are underground 
 murmurings of discontent. Some of the Independ- 
 ent houses go out of business. The funds of the 
 Society are exhausted. It is in debt, deeply in debt, 
 and every plan, scheme, arrangement or method is 
 resorted to to reimburse its coffers, pay off its debts, 
 and keep idle and discontented members placated. 
 Different boards meet regularly. The Society meets 
 every Sunday, as usual. Many sacrifices continue 
 to be made. There is argument, argument, argu- 
 ment, and though the echo of the old enthusiasm re- 
 mains, and indeed will always remain with those 
 who meant it, still the first battle is over; much en- 
 ergy has been spent, and the band doesn't play any 
 more. Resignations continue to come in, and the 
 Fool goes almost crazy. Truly, his dream is dis-
 
 i66 ^p jLatip 
 
 solving. Well, the pendulum must swing both ways. 
 At all events he will stick to the ship. Many mem- 
 bers who were now working for the Association did 
 not trouble to show their contracts, or pay any 
 commission to their own booking offices, so the 
 Board of Directors drew up the following contract, 
 and all members that could be reached signed it: 
 
 "We, the undersigned members of the theatrical 
 profession, do hereby employ the White Rats 
 Vaudeville Agency as our sole and exclusive book- 
 ing agent for the term of two years from the date of 
 this contract, agreeing not to accept or play any 
 Vaudeville engagement not booked through said 
 agency; and we severally agree to pay said agent 
 for services rendered in booking us during said time 
 five per cent, of the gross amount severally received 
 by us from all Vaudeville engagements during said 
 time of two years, payable as received by us, whether 
 said Vaudeville engagement is obtained through said 
 agency or not. 
 
 "The White Rats Vaudeville Agency agree with 
 each of the undersigned severally to maintain a 
 booking office in the City of New York, and to exert 
 its best efforts to obtain Vaudeville engagements for 
 each of the undersigned. 
 
 "In witness whereof we have hereunto set our 
 several hands and seals, the seal of one being the 
 seal of all." 
 
 Hundreds of members signed the above contract,
 
 but only a few paid in for a short time. The idea 
 was finally abandoned altogether. In the meantime, 
 the Vaudeville Agents, those who had been deprived 
 of their clients by the merry war, had formed an 
 Association of their own to decide on some way to 
 get back into the game. It was proposed in the 
 White Rats that they offer certain of these agents 
 desk room in the Fraternity's Booking Offices, and 
 give them two and one-half per cent, on all business 
 transacted by them severally, as it was thought that 
 they would be more capable of handling this phase 
 of the situation than inexperienced members of the 
 Society, who now had these matters in charge. The 
 Board of Directors is deadlocked on this question 
 for over a week. Some don't want the agents at 
 any price. Some think the agents necessary on the 
 outside, and others want them in their offices under 
 their control, where they can watch them. It is 
 finally decided to offer them desk room, but when 
 the offer is made it is refused, and eventually W. 
 W. Freeman is brought on, from the Western 
 Branch of the Managers' Association to take charge 
 of the White Rats' Booking Offices, in conjunction 
 with Milton Aborn and Mart M. Fuller. 
 
 The months go by, and many more members re- 
 sign. Others remain absent from the meetings 
 through lack of interest, or perhaps fatigue. The 
 Carnival is forgotten; very little money is coming 
 in in dues ; there are no more initiations. The loyal
 
 1 68 ^p La Dp 
 
 members exert their utmost endeavors to keep the 
 Order intact. They attend all the meetings, contrib- 
 ute their money, acting on committees, planning, 
 thinking, working, hoping eventually to pay off the 
 debts of the Order. Ezra Kendall is much in evi- 
 dence. His arguments have great weight with all 
 members. Every meeting he takes his place at one 
 end of the Hall opposite to the Dromio, and back 
 and forth they argue matters out. Night and day 
 the Fool is begging members to be loyal, pleading 
 with others to pay up their dues, and urging others 
 to join. Everywhere people ask him if the Society 
 is still in existence. He is growing weak and thin, 
 and the members are looking much towards Kendall. 
 Again the Dromio meets Mantwa, who says to him; 
 "What, are you still alive? I heard you had gone 
 mad." The Dromio looked at him and smiled. 
 Mantwa continued: "Well, you've had your fling, 
 and a pretty mess you have made of it, to be sure. I 
 hear you refused ten thousand dollars a year?" 
 "Yes," said the Dromio; "I accepted a benefit in- 
 stead." "Well, I suppose that appealed to you," 
 laughed Mantwa. "It was more showy." "It was 
 a demonstration of their loyalty," said the Fool. 
 
 "Well, I'll give you credit for one thing," said 
 Mantwa, "nobody but a fool could have built his 
 house on the quicksand wherein you dug, and struck 
 any foiind.ilion whatever. Your whole basis is dis- 
 content. Discontent of what? Of conditions af-
 
 l^auDcUille 169 
 
 fecting your fellows, you will say; but when they 
 are worthy of better conditions, they will have them. 
 If you wish to be a real martyr, why do you not go 
 and work for those who are really in need, those in 
 the slums, tenements and sweatshops? You will be 
 as easily torn to pieces for your pains. Why don't 
 you liberate those little children who work in the 
 cotton mills of the South? These gay and airy 
 people of yours are the freest people on earth, and 
 the most overpaid. Why don't you go into politics 
 and be a reformer? You are like a fakir standing 
 on a street corner in front of a glass tank full of 
 showy fish of different colors, and saying to the 
 crowds: 'Behold! these things on these fish that 
 look to you, people, like fins, are really wings ! Wait, 
 and you will see them all fly ! They are angels, dis- 
 guised as fish! If you wait they will fly for you! But 
 it is apparent to all that they never fly. They are 
 just fish, Dromio; that's all, just fish, and your 
 naming them angels will never change them. Why 
 do you continue to praise them? Do you know the 
 ridiculous part you are playing?" 
 
 "I know I am playing some kind of a part," said 
 the Fool. 
 
 "Do you appreciate the humor of Don Quixote 
 fighting the Windmill?" said Mantwa. 
 
 "Yes," said the Fool. "And I know I seem some- 
 thing like that, and I like it. It is the part I am cast 
 to play. It is picturesque. The part suits me. *I
 
 can see myself in it,' as the actors say. I am bizarre, 
 grotesque. But in me, in all of us, as in 'Hamlet,* 
 there is more than seems, good Mantvva. Do you 
 understand what I mean?" 
 
 "No," said Mantwa, "not unless you mean that 
 you are content to be a living laughing stock for all 
 the world." 
 
 "That is just what I must be," said Dromio, "de- 
 plore it as I may, and as for their shortcomings, I 
 see in them only that which belongs to me — their 
 goodness." 
 
 "Well," said Mantwa, "a few months ago you 
 were being called 'The man without a price.' In a 
 few months hence you will be known as a man with- 
 out the price. I suppose you know that already you 
 are the butt of every jest in the Tenderloin? Your 
 name has only to be mentioned to raise a laugh. You 
 are the human joke of gay New York." 
 
 "No, I did not know it," said the Dromio, "but I 
 don't much care. I laugh sometimes at myself, 
 when my heart is breaking." 
 
 "But you fitted yourself for something different," 
 said Mantwa. "You had a great chance, and while 
 you have been fighting for this cause (Oh, God, that 
 word nearly chokes me!) — while you have been 
 blowing your bubbles into oblivion, several of your 
 Rats, as you call them, have made their hits and are 
 on their way to fame." 
 
 "Well, what is the use of going all over it again?"
 
 l^auDeDille 171 
 
 said the Fool. "I heard a song, that's all. I just 
 heard a song, and I listened. You will never hear it. 
 You don't know what it means. I will listen to the 
 end. That's all. Good day." 
 
 And again the Fool sought out Gipsy Jim for con- 
 solation. 
 
 "Oh ! that Mantwa !" said he to Gipsy Jim. "He 
 is perfect Hell to me I If I had to meet him twice 
 a week, I'd go mad !" 
 
 "What does he say?" said Jim. 
 
 "Oh! he says everything! He has all the argu- 
 ments of the other side at his fingertips. Nothing is 
 worthy with him if it doesn't carry with it present 
 proof of its availability." 
 
 "Well, forget him," said Jim. "We'll stick to 
 our gims and beat them yet. Have another drink. 
 Some day they will found cities after the fashion 
 of our Order." 
 
 After some more talk, Jim left him in a reverie 
 over his cigar. He sat for an hour, with his eyes 
 half closed, thinking. 
 
 "Oh, God! he said to himself, "what prodigious 
 vanity there is in all of us — and especially in me. 
 How self-c*"ntered I am. Why cannot a man do 
 his work, and never see himself, even in visions? 
 What is fame but the mouthing of your name by a 
 rabble who take their cue from a few credulous ones 
 who have made a guess about you ? What man ever 
 knew another's soul? In proportion to the light
 
 172 ^p La Dp 
 
 given you, you must hide yourself. Francis Bacon 
 must have had a sixth sense. Mantwa! I must 
 either kill him or die myself!" 
 
 Thus musing, he fell asleep at the table. He was 
 awakened by a crowd of members standing around 
 him singing the emblem of the Order. 
 
 "Asleep at the switch!" they cried. Drinks were 
 ordered, and there was much talking, bantering, 
 kidding, and alcoholic philosophy indulged in, which 
 wound up in a night of Bachanalian revelry, as is 
 the wont of all frequenters of the Tenderloin, 
 whether they be there for life, or death, or dreams.
 
 l^auDetJille 173 
 
 A O^lanr? at larrgmor?. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE late Maurice Barrymore had been all 
 through the battle. He was a man noted 
 for his prowess in many ways, besides 
 being a splendid actor and a playwright. He 
 wrote "Najesda," from which it is said "La Tosca" 
 was taken, and many will remember the contro- 
 versy appertaining thereto which appeared in the 
 London and Parisian press some years ago between 
 M, Sardou and himself, and out of which he came 
 with colors flying, as indeed he did in all contro- 
 versies, as he was especially at home in the use 
 of satire and burning invective. He hated all 
 forms of cant and sophistry, and woe betide any 
 ill-advised pretender who dared to enter the lists 
 with him! His wit was brilliant, scintilating, pun- 
 gent, but in his heart he was a poet. However, he 
 was on the wane at this time, and his admiration for 
 the Fool was great. A specimen of spontaneous 
 word painting is recalled. One day he came into a 
 Board Meeting and, as the Fool passed out of the
 
 174 ^P JlaDp 
 
 door into the next room to get some papers, he said 
 to the members assembled: "You see that fellow? 
 He is a Fool. I once came through a glacial region 
 where men were made of stone and hearts w^ere 
 made of ice, and those men were all congealed to- 
 gether, till they formed one huge mountain that 
 reached to the sky. There was no way around at 
 either end, and in front of this mountain of rock 
 and ice stood a fool glaring at it. Back of him stood 
 his army of Mountebanks. I said to him : . 'Whither 
 goest, Fool?' and he answered, 'Through the moun- 
 tain.' I ran away, shouting, 'Fool! Fool! Fool!' 
 My laugh reverberated all through the valleys of 
 the glacial region. Anon, I returned, and there stood 
 the Fool. His penknife was splintered, his hands 
 were bleeding, but, by all the gods, the mountain 
 was gone! and the Fool and his Army went march- 
 ing on!"
 
 l^auDetJille ' 175 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 YES, true enough, his Army was marching on! 
 However, they were not marching very fast 
 a few months later. In fact, the movement 
 was almost stagnated. Still the members continued 
 to meet regularly, and pay off debts, and reconstruct 
 the Order. 
 
 Another year goes by in this way, and again the 
 Dromio is elected President unanimously. Ezra 
 Kendall is made Vice President, and Mardo the Sto- 
 ical, Secretary. 
 
 Then follows nearly another year of hard strug- 
 gling against apathy and indifference. The Fool is 
 discredited everywhere, except among his own true 
 Knights. There are now barely seventy-five of 
 them left. Still, they are the best in the profession, 
 and they have been tried. How they have been 
 tried ! 
 
 As Kendall afterwards said, they wintered at Val- 
 ley Forge. 
 
 The Little Gold Lady begins to fear for the Dro-
 
 176 ^p LaDp 
 
 niio's reason. He is drinking. The world he tried 
 to teach has got hold of him, and is teaching him its 
 own way. Groups on Broadway, that did him much 
 lip service some little time ago, now shrug their 
 shoulders and sneer when he passes, and tell each 
 other funny stories about him. All his belongings 
 are in pawn, and again he is in debt. He is morose, 
 irritable, frenzied. He walks the streets of New 
 York with the good Mardo and bullies him. When 
 strangers, who heard of his Quixotic struggles, at- 
 tempt to guy him, he knocks them down, and then 
 goes home and weeps that he ever should come to 
 the pass of striking a fellow being. He is like an 
 Indian running amuck. He has become impossible. 
 He can't drink that bitter draught — that what they 
 won collectively, they gave back secretly as individ- 
 uals, and then for shame left him high and dry, 
 alone in a mocking, scoffing world. Well, not alone. 
 There were seventy-five true Knights of Starland. 
 But they were not blamed. He was the mark. A 
 London manager comes over to engage him for 
 England. 
 
 He has not seen Mantwa for a year, and now he 
 comes upon him suddenly. 
 
 "I am going to give you one parting piece of ad- 
 vice," said Mantwa, "and if you fail to take it we 
 will cease to meet. I want you to go to those mem- 
 bers who are still with you, and have them each put 
 up a certain sum of money into a common fund as
 
 l^auUeWIIe 177 
 
 an earnest of good faith, and as an investment for 
 their own protection. You can call it the Investment 
 Fund, or Stai Legion, or whatever name you 
 choose, and every member must pay into this fund 
 a certain percentage of his earnings weekly, the same 
 to be accredited to his own account; and he must 
 forfeit same, or a large percentage of same, when- 
 ever he shall for any reason forsake the Fraternity. 
 Then, if you wish to continue fooling yourself, you 
 can still pretend that it is goodness of heart that 
 keeps them loyal to you, but those who do weaken 
 in the future will at least have to sacrifice some- 
 thing to those who have courage and faith in the 
 outcome of your dream. 
 
 "We are living in a business age, my Dromio. All 
 of us but you. You are either back with the Knight 
 Errants of old, or in some future time, or in some 
 raphsody that these men cannot comprehend, and 
 you cannot blame them. In this age you must play 
 with money. Dollars are the chips in the game, and 
 nothing else counts. You have not even Fear as a 
 weapon to wield, because you cannot shoot a traitor 
 dead, as can a general in the army. You must strike 
 at their hearts through their pockets, and while you 
 advance them through their own possession, or fear 
 of losing that which they already have, you will be 
 rendering them as great a service as if your faith in 
 them were wisely grounded."
 
 178 QPP jLatip 
 
 "Oh ! I tried that in the beginning," said the Dro- 
 mio, "but they voted it down." 
 
 "Well, you must try again, and keep as members 
 of your Order only those who will back up their 
 words with their money." 
 
 "How about those who haven't money to spare?" 
 
 "Well, give them time to get some. You must 
 stop dreaming just for a little while, Dromio. You 
 must try them out, now, once and for all. You are 
 weak and ill. You have aged twenty years in the 
 last two. Make them put up their money, and then 
 if they all fail you but ten, or your original eight, 
 for that matter, what you will have left will be 
 quality, and with quality you can build again. Num- 
 bers prove nothing. Look you, a dozen men rule 
 the destinies of your nation of eighty millions. With 
 other nations it is the same. What do they rule 
 with? Money 1 Why do the dozen stick together? 
 Money! Why are they stronger than Presidents 
 or Kings? Money! Everybody knows this but 
 you, and those of your remaining members who will 
 not put up their money, do not belong to you. They 
 have not the faith of the mustard seed. So long — 
 I must be going — I have an appointment. Have 
 courage, old chap. You have done your best, ac- 
 cording to your lights. So long. I'll see you to- 
 morrow," and Mantwa was gone. 
 
 The next day the Dromio called a meeting of his 
 friends and, at his request, ten members placed one
 
 l^autieviflle 179 
 
 hundred dollars apiece in an Investment Fund, and 
 Ezra Kendall was made Secretary and Treasurer. 
 And from that day the benefits to be derived from 
 this Fund was preached at every meeting. All the 
 possibilities of success or failure of theatrical in- 
 vestments by actors were analyzed weekly, and all 
 arguments proved that the only sure and safe plan 
 of reconstruction was through the medium of inter- 
 esting all present and future members of the Society 
 in this Fund or Legion, as it was sometimes called. 
 Of course, there were those who continued to preach 
 against it, and who indeed tried to thwart every 
 move made for advancement of any kind. They 
 continued to yell, "What will the Managers say?" 
 as if they themselves were made mere chattels, or 
 were owned body and soul by other men. Mean- 
 while, Kendall sent the members weekly statements 
 of their financial standing in the Legion, and the 
 Fund continued to grow. When twenty-seven mem- 
 bers had joined, the following Prospectus was dic- 
 tated by the Dromio, typewritten by Fred Niblo, and 
 a printed copy sent to all members of the Frater- 
 nity:
 
 I So 9^^ La Dp 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Prospectus of The "Star Legion." 
 
 THE Star Legion is a Society of reputable 
 players chosen from all branches of the 
 theatrical profession on account of their 
 ability, reputation and character, for the purpose 
 of conducing to the welfare, advancement and in- 
 dependence of the player and playgoer, and by 
 forming an Investment Fund among the players 
 to be used in co-operation betvi^een player, patron, 
 author and manager, to thus insure practicability. 
 The members of the above Society believe that 
 by co-operating with the public in certain invest- 
 ments they can best serve the interests of every 
 phase of the theatrical profession by conducing 
 to its advancement in every way, and at the same 
 time secure for those who become financially 
 interested better dividends than can be found 
 elsewhere in any theatrical investment. The cer- 
 tainty of this will be easily seen by the citizens and
 
 l^auDem'lIe iSi 
 
 managers of each community with whom we wish 
 to co-operate, when confidence is thoroughly estab- 
 lished by the quahty of our membership, by the 
 steady growth of same, and especially when we have 
 made paying enterprises of our first ventures. 
 
 And this we cannot but do, as will be seen by a 
 careful study of this Investment Fund plan, full in- 
 formation regarding any point of which will be 
 furnished anyone applying to the President or Sec- 
 retary. The Star Legion is therefore co-operative, 
 fraternal, and social. It is co-operative in its rela- 
 tion to its own members, who, by concentrating a 
 portion of their collective earnings, and investing 
 same in conjunction with the public and managers, 
 for the purpose of insuring legitimate competition, 
 and by being thus financially interested, of assuring 
 said public and managers of support or co-opera- 
 tion. The players can, by saving and concentrating 
 a very small portion of their collective weekly earn- 
 ings, conduce in every way to their financial inde- 
 pendence and their general advancement without in 
 any way risking the enmity of discrimination of 
 anyone. As by numbering among our first member- 
 ship only reputable artists, whose services are in 
 demand, and by not restricting any member as to 
 whom he shall or shall not play for, or through 
 whom he shall or shall not book his engagements, or 
 in any way interfering with his individual liberty, 
 we can play for, and remain on good terms with.
 
 i82 0^p JLaDp 
 
 any and all men, and at the same time be interested 
 in such enterprises as shall insure a continuance of 
 these amicable relations. 
 
 The method for the accumulation and mainte- 
 nance of the Investment Fund is simple: Each ac- 
 cepted candidate, when joining, pays into the Fund 
 the sum of $ioo. This money is his, and always 
 remains his while he is a member. In the event of 
 his withdrawal, a forfeit will be deducted, as per 
 contract. Accepted applicants may pay this first 
 $100 in instalments of not less than $5 each. Each 
 member, after having paid $100, agrees to further 
 pay into this Fund the sum of not less than one per 
 cent, of which he declares his weekly salary to be; 
 or he may pay in as much more as he pleases ; but he 
 cannot pay in less than one per cent, of his salary. 
 No matter how much a member pays into the Fund, 
 he cannot have more than one vote. If he does not 
 wish to come in on the percentage basis, he can pay 
 into the Fund not less than $5 per week. For in- 
 stance, a member earning $100 per week can pay 
 into the Fund as low as $1 per week, or as much 
 more as he pleases, if he joins this Fund on the per- 
 centage basis; but, if he does not join on the per- 
 centage basis, he cannot pay less than $5 per week 
 for each week that he plays, no matter what his 
 salary or earnings may be. This method is pursued 
 for the purpose of giving an opportunity to those 
 who play on percentages, etc., to join; also, for such
 
 I^autietjflle 183 
 
 actors who manage and back their own companies. 
 Members will only be expected to pay on such weeks 
 as they play. Several of our members are now pay- 
 ing into the Fund ten per cent, of their earnings, 
 and it is conjectured by the most conservative that 
 for each member who pays in one per cent, there will 
 be at least one who will pay in at least nine per cent. 
 of his earnings, thus making an average of 5 per 
 cent, per member even during the first year, until 
 we have firmly established confidence in the practic- 
 ability and stability of this plan. And five per cent. 
 of the weekly earnings of the present members of 
 this Fund will amount to many thousands of dol- 
 lars per annum. There will be no watered stock. 
 No member will have more than one vote. All books 
 will be open to all members for inspection. The 
 membership for the first year will be limited to one 
 hundred and twenty-five. These first one hundred 
 and twenty-five members will be accepted because 
 they will possess all the requirements necessary for 
 the furtherance of our aims. The average weekly 
 salary of the present membership of this Fund 
 is more than $250 per member, and each member's 
 services are in constant demand by the public. Sup- 
 posing the first membership of one hundred and 
 twenty-five receive an average salary of $200 per 
 week, and that each member plays forty weeks a 
 year, and the income to the Fund averages five per 
 cent, per member. This would amount to exactly
 
 1 84 ®p JLatip 
 
 $50,000 per annum, and, of course, the same mem- 
 bership playing only twenty weeks a year, and sav- 
 ing ten per cent, collectively, would amount to the 
 same total. The possibilities consequent upon the 
 judicious investment of this amount alone will give 
 some idea as to what may be accomplished with an 
 extended membership and co-operation with the pub- 
 lic. It will be seen by the above conditions that 
 there is no intention on the part of the promulgators 
 of this plan to antagonize any man or body of men. 
 The reason the membership will be limited for the 
 first year is because we have discovered difficulty in 
 appealing to the understanding of large numbers too 
 suddenly. We expect, some day, to have the whole 
 Player Profession co-operating with us. But we 
 wish to first give evidence as to the practicability of 
 our aims. As a fraternity, we will continue to exert 
 our utmost endeavors to bring about such feelings 
 of amity as should exist between our professional 
 bretliren; to protect original vaudeville acts and ma- 
 terial from piracy and plagiarism; negotiate with 
 railroads and other corporations with a view to se- 
 curing such advantages as we are entitled to; assist 
 each other in securing engagements; and in every 
 way provide for our members such furtherance of 
 their individual and collective prosperity as can 
 only be secured by organization on a large scale. 
 
 The Secretary and Treasurer will be under bond 
 in excess of our possible yearly income. All moneys
 
 l^auDetJiUe 185 
 
 will be placed in savings banks in the name of the 
 Society until invested; and, as before stated, all 
 books will be open at all times for inspection by our 
 members. Though stress has been laid on the money 
 earning capacity of our present membership, it must 
 be borne in mind that an applicant's eligibility will 
 not depend on the amount of salary he receives, but 
 on his character and standing as a gentleman and 
 artist, and his ability to appreciate a progressive idea 
 and honest endeavor. 
 
 This Legion is not confined to any particular 
 phase of theatricals. It is open to the whole player 
 profession. That there is nothing to sacrifice, and 
 much to gain, in becoming a member is plain. Its 
 many advantages and infinite possibilities will appear 
 clear, however, to those who think, and who have 
 the welfare of the Profession at heart. 
 The Dromio, President. 
 Ezra Kendall, Secretary and Treasurer. 
 
 Directors: David C. Montgomery, John L. Rix- 
 ford, Mark P. Murphy, Junie McCree, Fred Stone, 
 Horace Goldin, James F. Dolan, Frank Gardiner, 
 Chas. T. Aldrich, George B. Reno, George Felix, 
 Ren Shields, George W. Monroe, Sam Morton, 
 Walter Leroy, M. J. Sullivan, Nat. M. Wills, Chas. 
 McDonald, Harry Hayes, Joe Birnes, Harry Luken, 
 Eddie Foy, Bobby Gaylor, George Evans, Todd 
 Judge and Fred Niblo.
 
 i86 q^p JLa0p 
 
 XXV. 
 
 WHEN the Fund was soundly established 
 and in working order, with a member- 
 ship of two score, and several thousands 
 of dollars in the Treasury, Mantwa said to the 
 Dromio : 
 
 "Now, you have made a sane move at last. This 
 will keep them together, and with this Fund con- 
 tinually growing, Kendall can hold them together till 
 they are again threatened, and when they begin to 
 stampede into the Fold again, perhaps judgment will 
 be used. There is a man of judgment. A man of 
 sense, that Kendall. He is, as you would say, 'from 
 Missouri.* He doesn't bank on promises. You 
 must show him. So whatever may happen to you, 
 your Society is established now, once for all. You 
 should have done this at the outset." 
 
 "I told you that I tried to do so," said the Dro- 
 mio, "but they voted me down." 
 
 "You should have insisted," said Mantwa; "you 
 held the reins, but you wanted to be modest. You
 
 l^auDetJille 187 
 
 were too easy. If at the beginning you had pur- 
 sued this plan, when they were all hot and eagerly 
 clamoring for admission, your Society would now 
 be immensely wealthy. No one would have for- 
 saken you. When interests are mutual, he who for- 
 sakes the general body also forsakes himself; not 
 only sentimentally, as before, but financially, by way 
 of forfeit. And they who remain will thus profit 
 financially in proportion to the disaffection. Please 
 keep in mind that we live in an age of gold. You 
 can only fight money with money. Your attempt 
 to do otherwise has proven it. Meanwhile, you 
 must go away somewhere and forget, or you will 
 die. Think of your wife and little ones, and get 
 away for awhile, at least. You are ill, and every- 
 one knows you are living principally on stimulants. 
 Your heart is broken, but it will mend. Get away, 
 Dromio; accept that engagement in England, and 
 get away. Kendall will keep these fellows together. 
 They are all your friends, anyway. They are the 
 sifted wheat from all the chaff. They will be true 
 to you forever. If it were only your life, I would 
 hold my tongue, but think of The Little Gold Lady, 
 who has been so true to you, and of the little ones. 
 Think of them. You are sacrificing them all now 
 unnecessarily. You have listened to me once. Heed 
 me just once more, and get away." 
 
 "Very well," said the Dromio, "I will go to Eng- 
 land,"
 
 i88 ■ Qip JLaDp 
 
 It is nearly certain that the Investment Fund, or 
 Star Legion, saved the Society at this time. Among 
 the fraternal body, certain members continue! to rail 
 against all attempts at business of any kind, espe- 
 cially against the booking offices, and, indeed, these 
 were now losing concerns. As the managers having 
 succeeded in wiping out all opposition there were no 
 theatres where members could be booked, and both 
 Eastern and Western offices were soon compelled to 
 close their doors, though James Powers worked 
 himself to a whisper to make the Chicago office pay, 
 and Kendall, Mark Murphy and Bobby Gaylor did 
 all in their power to assist him. Other members ad- 
 vanced plans to keep the Eastern office going, but 
 all without avail. However, this fact was notice- 
 able: that the moment business was at an end in 
 the Society, apathy set in, except as regarding the 
 Investment Fund. Those who were not enthusias- 
 tically for it, were open or secret antagonists. At 
 all events, it kept things going. 
 
 The members of it were as enthusiastic as ever; 
 perhaps more so. They recognized that they were 
 at the last ditch, and they fought like heroes. And 
 that their ship of Brotherhood ever sailed through 
 the stagnant sea of those depressing days speaks 
 wonders for those who were faithful to the Cause, 
 and yet again, wonders for the stubbornness and 
 businesslike methods of Kendall. Every week they; 
 continued to receive statements of their standing,
 
 ^auDetJflle 189 
 
 in the same spirit as of old, and as if the Society 
 were still a flourishing success — and so it was in 
 quality. Every week the Fraternity continued to 
 hold meetings and listen to arguments, mostly about 
 the advantages of the Fund. 
 
 In the meantime a great change had come over the 
 Dromio. He was tired in soul and body. He ac- 
 cepted an engagement at the Palace Theatre, in Lon- 
 don, and after leaving all the affairs of the Order in 
 Kendall's hands, he and The Little Gold Lady and 
 weeuns sailed away on the good ship Cedric for 
 England. There were many friends at the wharf 
 to see the Fool and his family away, among them 
 was Gipsy Jim. He took Dromio aside, and said: 
 "Answer me one question before you go." "Did I 
 ever refuse to ?" said the Foolish One. "Well, then, 
 who is Mantwa?" "Did you ever hear of Socrates 
 and his Daemon?" "No." "Did you ever read 
 Poe's 'William Wilson?' " "No." "Did you ever 
 read Balzac's 'Magic Skin?'" "No." "Well, 'Dr. 
 Jekyl and Mr. Hyde,' then?" "Yes, I've read that, 
 but what has it to do with Mantwa?" 
 
 "Listen, Jim," said Dromio. "Mantwa is the 
 other side of my world. Everything is double, one 
 against the other. Everything is twain, one within 
 the other. In proportion to our dreams, there is a 
 balance born, else we would go insane. *Dr. Jehkyl 
 and Mr. Hyde' are types of the good and bad in 
 man. Dromio and Mantwa are types of dream and
 
 190 ^p jLaDp 
 
 fact But every reality was once a dream. To do, 
 you must first dream, and in doing you must die. 
 Such is the law. I have dreamed, and I have done, 
 and now Dromio is no more. His work may live, 
 for 'tis said that nothing done in true sincerity of 
 heart is done in vain. Dromio heard the Song of 
 the Nightingale, and at that moment a dual soul was 
 born : Dromio the Dreamer, and the worldly Mant- 
 wa. Dromio dissolved himself in his own dream. 
 He gave them all : himself, his health, his life, his 
 career. Mantwa must live for those in the cabin 
 there, and of this you may be sure: Mantwa will 
 succeed. He spells success. He is for himself. 
 Dromio was for others, and he has had his day. 
 
 "Mantwa is the composite of all those people with 
 whom we fraternize at our clubs and cafes; who 
 compose our audiences, criticize our work, and, 
 among themselves, exaggerate our faults ; yet, know- 
 ing that they themselves are little better, are content 
 to wink. He is the incarnation of all those who 
 presume to judge a man's soul by the label of his 
 profession. He is Criticism personified, and Judg- 
 ment petrified. Cynic-like, he knows 'The price of 
 everything, and the value of nothing.' He is the 
 aggregate of all those who hold us in contempt 
 while we struggle in obscurity, and grab us to heart 
 when, through some freak of fate, we become the 
 vogue; who sigh for our ignorance, yet ridicule 
 every attempt made for the betterment of our lives.
 
 l^auDemile 191 
 
 He is the accumulated knowledge of all my worldly 
 experience. He is Me. Shake hands with Mantwa, 
 and say, Au Revoir !" 
 
 "Au Revoir," sighed Jim the Gipsy, as he shook 
 his hand; "but to me you will always be the same 
 old Dromio." "No, Jim; henceforth I will be 
 Mantwa." "Well," said Jim, "you know that hun- 
 dred that I put away for you about fifteen years 
 ago?" "Yes?" "Well, it is still there, and I'll bet 
 you that hundred against a new hat that when I 
 next hear from you you'll be Dromio again. You 
 will succeed in London, and when hope and strength 
 return, you will go back to your dreams." "It's a 
 bet. Goodbye." "Goodbye, Dromio." The Fool 
 rushed up the gang plank, and Jim shouted from 
 the wharf once more: 
 
 "So long, Dromio! You old dreamer!" 
 
 And the ship sailed away. 
 
 A month later the Fool was the rage of London. 
 He played the record successful engagement at the 
 Palace Theatre, and nightly entertained the great 
 folk of Europe for many months following. His 
 humor was on every man's lips; his stories told 
 everywhere. People laughed, and said : "He is the 
 lightest hearted jester alive." To him it was all the 
 dance of death, the mockery of buried hopes and 
 shattered ideals. His success in London was printed 
 in the American papers, and, near the end of the 
 summer, when Gipsy Jim read that his friend had
 
 entertained the King for the second time and had 
 been exchisively invited to entertain the Royal Fam- 
 ily at Egypt House, Cowes, on the Isle of Wight, 
 during Yacht Week, he sent him the following ca- 
 blegram : 
 
 "On the level, what's your name? Answer. 
 Jim." And the answer came back : "Dromio, bless 
 your old Gipsy heart ! Dromio forever !" 
 
 Tears filled the Gipsy's eyes as he folded the ca- 
 blegram, and walked out through Central Park, 
 humming the Song of Brotherly Love; the Song of 
 the Nightingale; the beautiful strains of which are 
 the first to reach any stranger's ears when entering 
 the gates of Starland. 
 
 There is little more to tell. 
 Kendall held the reins for almost two years, while 
 the Dromio was abroad. The Knights of Starland 
 remained loyal, though at times it was difficult to 
 find a quorum at a meeting. 
 
 The next election was postponed until the Dro- 
 mio's return, and at his suggestion, they elected 
 Kendall President by acclamation. The Dromio 
 left for Australia; and, in a few months, Kendall's 
 health also broke down under the strain, and R. C. 
 Mudge took the chair. All the debts of the Order 
 were paid, and there was clear sailing. All the lies 
 were lived down. All the old wounds healed by 
 time. All the old members admitted back, and no 
 questions asked. The Order again grew in num-
 
 l^auHebfUe 193 
 
 bers by many hundreds. At the next election R. C. 
 Mudge, who had been much in evidence since the 
 early days, was elected President, and the Order 
 thrived for two years more. Mudge resigned during 
 his term of office, and George Monroe piloted the 
 ship until the next election, when Fred Niblo was 
 made the Presiding Chief of Ratland — which is 
 Starland. Meanwhile, Harry Mountford, who in 
 the meantime had federated all the Actors of "the 
 Halls" of England and got into an argument for 
 his pains, has come to America and reorganized the 
 business department of the Order, putting into ex- 
 ecution once again many ideas of the Droniio.
 
 194 ^p JLaUp 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 THIS Mr. Mount ford is that self same indefa- 
 tigable individual who, during the recent 
 Music Hall war in England, succeeded not 
 only in his plans of federation, but also in forming 
 an alliance of all the kindred professions and occu- 
 pations to assist the Music Hall artists until they 
 had won their fight Or, at least, until they had 
 gained certain points of advantage, such as having 
 an official arbitrator appointed, an award granted, 
 a more equitable contract agreed upon and other 
 concessions in favor of stage people. 
 
 And therefore as he has rendered his brother and 
 sister artists of the world a service of inestimable 
 value, a word or two anent his personality, his 
 record and character is not out of place here. Mr. 
 Mountford's retirement from the English Federa- 
 tion was caused mostly through personal differences 
 of opinion with other officers of that body. Yet he 
 nevertheless came to America with letters of high 
 recommendation from the allied organizations and
 
 l^auDetiille 195 
 
 these were given to him subsequent to his retire- 
 ment from the federation. 
 
 He impresses one as being fearless and true, 
 Young, ardent, keen, shrewd, alert, and well edu- 
 cated. A man who has read much and thought 
 more. He has a knowledge of law, a fine sense of 
 humor, a high sense of duty and the proportion of 
 things. Who, in preference to a selfish career, has 
 decided to give himself to the cause of the better- 
 ment of his fellow man. His regard for justice has 
 been shown by his flat refusal during a crisis to ob- 
 serve any difference or partiality in dealing with 
 people of different occupations, whether of greater 
 or lesser money earning capacity, whether of sup- 
 posed higher or lower dignity, when the same prom- 
 ise of loyalty had been made to all. Sometimes 
 while being allowed the privilege of great under- 
 takings we are tested as to whether we are men. 
 Whether while working in some certain sphere of 
 effort our hopes are narrowed to its particular con- 
 fines or whether we can be as broad as the world. 
 Mountford, while working for the advancement of 
 his stage fellows is really for men. If you say it 
 was a just destiny that impelled him Westward after 
 he had succeeded in helping to awake his fellows of 
 England; if you say fate was only awarding him 
 for duties well performed, and at the same time 
 rewarding those loyal ones over here for so stead- 
 fastly following their light by sending them one
 
 196 ^p Hatip 
 
 whom they needed ; the answer is : "That some men 
 have certain things to do that even they themselves 
 may not know why, or whither the hght may lead, 
 or the cause of the impelling, but it matters little 
 on which side of the world they play their parts." 
 
 And truly it seems that fate for once was arrayed 
 on the side of the strugglers to find this man who 
 worked so earnestly for his fellows at home now 
 directing the business movements of the American 
 Society, which was the first to take the initiative 
 in proclaiming the rights of the people of the stage, 
 and which won the first struggle for their inter- 
 ests in the history of theatricals. And it is most 
 fortunate for all that as regards brains, heart and 
 energy combined with a willingness to serve his 
 fellows, Mr. Fred Niblo, the present popular Presi- 
 dent of the Society, is in the same category as Mr. 
 Mountford. 
 
 The other officers, trustees and Board of Direc- 
 tors have been chosen with great care and with a 
 view to their uprightness, steadfastness and ability. 
 Among them are many who fought all the way 
 through the storm with the Fool. Junie McCree 
 (whose personality is as interesting as Nat C. Good- 
 win's), is Vice President. Harry O. Hayes is Treas- 
 urer, W. W. Waters, Fraternal Secretary. Among 
 the directors and Trustees are Jim the Gipsy, Sam 
 Morton, and Mark Murphy of the original eight 
 Besides there is that Big Little Major Doyle, with
 
 l^auDetJille 197 
 
 his head full of brains and his heart full of love, 
 and George Delmore, Walter Le Roy, George Felix, 
 Tim McMahon, James Harrigan, Edwin Keough, 
 Colie Lorella, Will J. Cooke, Frank Herbert, Rob- 
 ert Dailey, William F. Carroll (Irish Billy), John 
 P. Hill, Tim Cronin, the politician; William Court- 
 leigh, Charles Stine, Frank Fogarty, Joe Calahan, 
 Jack Gardiner, Bert Leslie, William Gould, Charles 
 B. Lawlor, Ren Shields, Frank North, Harry 
 Knowles, and Corse Payton. 
 
 These are the men who direct the movements of 
 The White Rats of America. An army of Art and 
 Heart that has grown to be several thousand strong. 
 They are affiliated with all the other Theatrical or- 
 ganizations of the world, every member of which has 
 now, for the first time in history. Fraternal and 
 Legal protection, every member of which has a voice 
 in his own affairs. They are financially interested 
 for the first time in history in their own enterprises. 
 They will one day own themselves. Then they 
 will become educated and be brave to love each 
 other. Among them are My Lady Vaudeville's 
 brightest and best, the people who rouse the rest 
 of the world to its laughter and its tears. The 
 standard of their entertainment has grown brighter 
 and better. Their hearts will continue to soften 
 into a finer fellowship as the years go by. Their 
 eyes have seen the light of their wandering star. 
 They have been awakened and led from the dark
 
 '98 Q^y JLaDp 
 
 desert of doubt whereon they wrangled and quar- 
 relled, all envious and jealous of each other, all 
 striving and pulling in different ways, and they are 
 now marching on, marching on, marching on, to the 
 morrow's golden dawn. The mountains have 
 moved away. So wish them Godspeed, my Little 
 Gold Lady, for surely they are marching on. Wish 
 them Godspeed, but look at them not through Man- 
 twa's eyes. He would tell you: "They are only 
 singed moths and motley mummers; many of them 
 scorched by the toxic tinctures of earth's many rial- 
 tos and wide white ways." 
 
 He would tell you : "It is all a mad dance in the 
 crazy carnival of vanity fair." 
 
 He would show you the miasma of their environ- 
 ment, and the impossibility of their escape into the 
 sunlight of to-morrow. 
 
 And, he would laugh long and loud at your 
 Dromio. 
 
 So look at them not through Mantwa's eyes. 
 
 He saw only the husks of them. He saw only 
 their scars. 
 
 "Where there is no vision the people perish," 
 said Solomon. 
 
 So look at them not through Mantwa's eyes, but 
 through the eyes of your dreamful Fool. 
 
 Knights of the Royal Realm he called them, in 
 his ludicrous verbiage, for ever he saw them with 
 hopeful eyes.
 
 l^autietJille 199 
 
 So bid them Godspeed, my Little Gold Lady, for 
 surely they are marching on. 
 
 The pipers are playing their magic tunes; 
 They are singing the songs of Brotherly love. 
 The buglers are trumpeting, trumpeting, 
 The clarions are calling, calling. 
 
 Into their ranks from all earth's climes and from 
 all walks of life, come the starry eyed children of 
 smiles. 
 
 They are marching on to the land of good 
 thoughts and good deeds, where actions are brave 
 and where duties are well performed. 
 
 So wish them Godspeed, my Little Gold Lady, for 
 the Fool in his heart heard the song of the Night- 
 ingale, and he said unto them, through the Spirit 
 of Starland, "I have come to give you peace and 
 light; I have come to make you free." 
 
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 "oXSa^OxC 0^5x5(4 oND UOSID (i o\3 U o^b uoS^ Cs^SxS Ci'oxS (00^:2 SoNa
 
 Fred Niblo, 
 
 President.
 
 JuxiE McCree, 
 
 Vice-President.
 
 Harky (). IIayes^ 
 Treasurer.
 
 Walter W. Watees, 
 
 (Seltzer Waters), 
 
 Secretary.
 
 Stanley Murphy, 
 Trustee.
 
 Geo. E. Delmoke, 
 Trustee.
 
 John P. Hill, 
 Trustee.
 
 COLIE LOEELLA^ 
 
 Trustee.
 
 COKSE PaYTO^ ,, 
 
 Trustee.
 
 JorS. CaLI.AJIAX 
 
 Director.
 
 WlI.L J. COOKE^ 
 
 Director.
 
 W: 
 
 -M. 
 
 C'oURTLEIGir,, 
 
 Director.
 
 Tim CROJfiN, 
 Director.
 
 RoBT. Dailet^ 
 Director.
 
 Jas. F. Dolax, 
 Director.
 
 Directoi
 
 Geo. Felix, 
 Director.
 
 Fk AX K Fog AKT y. 
 Director.
 
 Jack Gardner^ 
 Director.
 
 WlI.LIAM GOULD^ 
 
 Director.
 
 Jamks 11 arrigax. 
 Director.
 
 FuAXK Hekeekt, 
 Director.
 
 Edwin Keough, 
 Director.
 
 Chas. B. Lawlor^ 
 Director.
 
 Walter LeRoy, 
 Director.
 
 Bekt Leslie, 
 Director.
 
 Tim McMaiiox, 
 Director.
 
 Sam ]\Iokto>,., 
 Director.
 
 Director.
 
 Fra:s'k Xortii, 
 Director.
 
 Rex Shields, 
 Director.
 
 Chas. J. Stii\"e, 
 Director.
 
 EuBE Welch, 
 Director.
 
 Haery Motjntfoed^ 
 Secretary to Board of Directors,
 
 Dexkis F. O'Brien^ 
 General Counsel.
 
 COHAN & HARRIS 
 
 ATTRACTIONS 
 
 GEORGE M. COHAN, "The Yankee Prince" 
 "THE AMERICAN IDEA" 
 VICTOR MOORE, "The Talk of New York" 
 
 COHAN 6 HARRIS MINSTRELS 
 PresenHng GEO. EVANS and 100 Honey Boys 
 
 ••50 MILES FROM BOSTON" 
 
 (Eastern) 
 
 ••FIFTY MILES FROM BOSTON" 
 
 (Western) 
 
 THOMAS F. SHEA 
 ••BREWSTER'S MILLION'S" 
 
 With ROBERT OBER 
 
 ••45 MINUTES FROM BROADWAY" 
 
 With SCOTT WELSH 
 
 AND OTHERS IN PREPARATION 
 
 Address 
 
 New Amsterdam Theatre Building 
 214 WEST 42d STREET. NEW YORK
 
 W ith sincerest regards 
 
 and admiration for 
 
 our Founder. 
 
 3vth Ntblo
 
 Compliments 
 
 JAS. F. ...of... IDA 
 
 DOLAN & LENHARR
 
 Be hr2L\>e — and love each other* — Golden, 
 
 George W. Monroe 
 
 As the Comedy Queen in the 
 **TOP O' THE WORLD" 
 
 Read these fe'w hind words from a ievr of our 
 greatest critics: 
 
 ' ' Monroe compels mirth. I laughed till the tears rolled down 
 my cheeks and I felt limp and foolish. Monroe's monologue 
 broke me up and I nearly ran out of the theatre. Geo. W. 
 Monroe is the one fat gentleman who can be a fat lady without 
 offense," — Alan Dale. 
 
 * * * 
 
 "George W. Monroe's monologue in the second act reduces 
 you to a jelly of laughter." — Ashton Stevens. 
 
 « « « 
 
 "George W. Monroe is a veritable mountain of fun, which 
 every Mahomet in town will go gladly to see. It's almost five 
 years now since the Majestic has heard such shouts of laughter." 
 — Acton Davies. 
 
 « « « 
 
 "The funniest thing in the performance is that buxom lady 
 by Geo. W. Monroe. You decide he's funny, and you let 'er go. 
 McGuckin— wonderful artist."— C^rtr/?5 Darnton,
 
 GEORGE EVANS 
 
 ''The Honey Boy'^ 
 
 Permanent Jtiireu 
 
 WHITE RATS CLUB 
 
 S^, Y. CUy
 
 <6 ii A A A A HA :ZA A A AAA A ^ 
 
 «^ fer 
 
 *• Z 
 
 " to 
 
 '* z 
 
 •» to 
 
 2 to 
 
 *« to 
 
 f (Srfatrr Mrw fork ffiirtwU s» 
 
 ** to 
 
 «, _4irrBratittg„ i» 
 
 «! to 
 
 *« All ^tar HauiJfiitlb to 
 
 2 *^ 
 
 *» i» 
 
 «( Hit A JtJt Hit ^=: it it it Jt it Ait ^y
 
 Compliments o! 
 
 William Morris, Inc. 
 
 Noiv and always, the First 
 and Foremost Purveyor of 
 Polite Entertainment and 
 Promoter of Vaudeville 
 Advancement. Ji it Ji 
 
 New Yoikt 1440 BroBiwtj 
 
 Qiieaget 167 Deaii>oni Stnel 
 
 Lawkai 418 Stnnd
 
 ** Hands yi cross the Sea 
 
 cMan to man th* <a)orld o* 
 Shall brothers be, for a* that 
 
 9<^ ^c.^(Xc&oCe'. 
 
 
 i<:t€^97,€^ 
 
 Th" Saftest o* tK Family'' 
 
 ^'^ 
 
 ** Should Auld Acquaintance be Forgot?"
 
 ROYAL ILLUSIONIST. 
 
 U HER MAYESTY 
 "hf QUEEN'fSAXONIt 
 
 THE ORIGINATOR OFT WHAT HE DOES 
 
 ANDTHE INVENTOR. OF A STYLE WHICH 
 
 SO MANY ARE. TRYING TO IMITATE.. 
 
 '^^MR GOLDIN HOLDS THE RECORDS 
 OF ROYAL COMMAND IN ENGLAND 
 PERMANENT ADDRESS-WHITE RATS OF AM. 
 
 U.S.A^
 
 •^ 
 
 Vv ith sincere regards 
 
 and appreciation or 
 
 V
 
 No use plugging 
 melodramas in this 
 book^ but here^s to 
 the success oi ^ ^ 
 GEORGE EVANS 
 Honey Boy Minstrels 
 
 Al H. Woods
 
 Compliments qf-^ ^ 
 
 ^ jiiiiijiiijtit = ii ii A ii ii it it ^ 
 
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 lar 
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 2 New York I 
 
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 «i it iiiiitiiii it = iiji A it A a it i» 
 
 Corse Payton 
 
 Brooklyn
 
 ¥ * 
 
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 ¥ H 
 
 w Compliments of tt 
 
 ft •#••*•*•*• i# 
 
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 t JakeWellsi 
 
 t =» 
 
 t THEATRES \ 
 
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 COOK'S PLACE 
 
 270=272 West 39th Street, 
 New York City 
 
 Theatncat Headquarters of America—the 
 Largest and Best Conducted House of its Kind 
 in the World. 
 
 Best of Food and Best of Service—Best of 
 Everything Pertaining to the General Comfort 
 of the Profession* 
 
 FRANK COOK, Proprietor
 
 5 
 
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 ^-^^ft^,
 
 HOTEL RENSSELAER 
 
 TROY, IN. Y, 
 
 European Plan. 
 
 200 Rooms. 
 
 $J.OO and upwards. 
 
 Mostly with bath. 
 
 Modeled after old English Inn. 
 
 Court yard in tile. 
 
 An Artistic Triumph. 
 
 John McGlyn. 
 
 H. A. McGrane.
 
 PETER F. DAILEY
 
 ...Compliments of... 
 
 AVON COMEDY FOUR 
 
 Wm. Courtleigh 
 
 ^*- in the sketch -^ 
 
 "Peaches" 
 
 Addre.r.r Lamb./'* Club, 44th Street 
 New York 
 
 Eddie Clark 
 
 il and his A 
 
 Six Winning Widows
 
 BROADWAY'S POPULAR 
 MUSIC PUBLISHER 
 
 Chicago 
 GRAND 
 OPERA 
 HOUSE 
 BLDG. 
 
 StJfl 
 
 NEW YORK 
 Corner Broadway and 'thirty-ninth Street 
 
 THE WORLD FAMOUS 
 
 Harry Houdini 
 
 The oriRinal Jail Breaker 
 and Handcuff King 
 
 Originator of ilii; ^ ' CliMlcnge 
 Performance" as presented by himself 
 Home Address, 278 West il3th St., N.Y.Clty 
 
 Compliments of 
 
 FRANK 
 BUSH
 
 FINLAY & BURKE 
 
 eSj e^ e^ 1 JTirli e^ e^ e^ 
 
 PROFESSIONAL 
 ENTERTAINERS 
 
 ROBERT DAILEY 
 
 COMEDIAN 
 
 THATS ALL 
 
 '^GOOD LUCK 
 
 ♦..and.,. 
 GOOD HEALTH 
 
 GEORGE/' 
 
 Joseph Coyne 
 
 R. E. GRAHAM 
 
 The (American Original 
 
 BARON POPPOFF 
 
 in 
 THE mERRY WIDOW
 
 TRIUMPHA NT IN AL L CITIES! 
 
 MONT OOM ER Y 
 AND STONE IN 
 
 Charles Dillingham's Musical Comedy Sensation 
 
 ^he RED MILL 
 
 By Henry Blossom and Victor Herbert 
 
 A YEAR IN NEW YORK - FIVE MONTHS IN BOSTON FOUR MONTHS IN CHICAGO 
 And Welcomed Back to Them All 
 
 The Dervish Whirlwind The Mythical Monahan 
 
 ONETTA- 
 
 THE ONLY NOVELTY ACT 
 
 OF ITS KIND 
 IN VAUDEVILLE 
 
 James and Lucia 
 Cooper & Co. 
 
 " The Life Saver 
 
 John K. Hawley 
 
 Hebre'w Comedian 
 
 Tom Brantford 
 
 THE HUMAN 
 "BAND
 
 Richard F. Sta ley's Vaudevi lle Attractions 
 
 Staley 6 Birbeck's Musical Blacksmiths 
 
 With CAS. F. STALEY and Company 
 
 Staley's Transformation Company 
 
 With ANDREW STALEY and Company 
 
 Staley's Nightmare 
 
 With a cast of six artists 
 MANAGER'S ADDRESS 
 
 RICHARD F. STALEY 
 P. O. Bin O, Idaho Springs, Colorado 
 
 Frederick RUSSELL 
 
 ...and... 
 
 Lillian HELD 
 
 
 
 H 
 
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 ^^"^■^^^^^M] 
 
 CD 
 
 
 
 
 
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 D 
 
 
 ^IHHliHI^^^^^HP 
 
 CD 
 
 
 
 
 Famous Sayings af 
 
 Famous People 
 
 « 
 
 Cut it oot 
 
 » 
 
 PETER DONALD
 
 « 
 
 The Home of Good Songs 
 ALBERT VON TILZER 
 
 THE YORK MUSIC CO. 
 
 1367 Broadway, Cor. 37th St. NEW YORK 
 
 Bickjd & Watson 
 
 under management of 
 
 F. ZIEGFELD, Jr. 
 
 CLIFF BERZAC 
 
 ^* Comedy Circus ^^
 
 BILLIE 
 FERN 
 
 KNOCKABOUT 
 COMEDIAN 
 
 CC 
 
 Volt a 
 
 yy 
 
 Electrical 
 Wizard 
 
 Jiddress 
 
 WHITE RATS 
 
 Compliments of 
 
 Harry Von Tilzer
 
 GOOD LUCK and 
 
 BEST WISHES to 
 
 George Fuller Golden 
 JOSEPH MURPHY 
 
 ...RETIRED... 
 
 New York Film Exchange 
 
 WILL C. SMITH, Manager 
 
 Formerly of Diamond & Smith (Song Illustrators) 
 
 "Everything in the Moving Picture line" 
 
 7 EAST 14th STREET, N. Y. 
 
 Moving picture entertainments a specialty for churches, 
 societies, schools and homes 
 
 TELEPHONE 3T4.'> STUYVESAJNT 
 ESTABLISHED 18T9 
 
 Wift N^m f nrk iramattr iMtrrnr 
 
 HARRISON GR EY FI5KE, Editor & Pres. 
 
 PUBLISHED WE EKLY, P RICE 10 CENTS 
 
 ALL THE NEWS OF T HE STAGE 
 
 PUBLICATION OFPICB 
 lai M'^KST 42d street, NE'W YORK
 
 HOW MUCH ^RB YOU MAJSLlMCi A. WiJKK.? 
 
 Suppose you meet with an accident ? 
 
 Or suppose you got a chronic sickness of any sort ? 
 
 How long would your income continue ? 
 
 You are making pretty good money, now, but are you sureoi 
 your health ? Are you certain you will never meet with 
 any kind of accident ? 
 
 George Fuller Golden certainly is one of the most deserving 
 fellows in the world — many a time has he cheered us up 
 when we had a fit of "down-in-the- mouth" — dear old chap, he 
 is worried now. If he was sure of an income every week he 
 certainly would be more at ease. YOU can protect yourself 
 against loss of present income— YOU can make certain of your 
 future income. The method is easy, effective, economical. 
 
 If you want to know how — write and ask me to explain. 
 
 ALVA E. STERN, 66 Pine Street. New York, N.Y. 
 
 RICE & BARTON 
 
 ...ENTERPRISES... 
 Big Gayety Company 
 
 Rose Hill English Folly Co. 
 
 Always the Biggest and *Best 
 Address, CENTERPORT, I. I. 
 
 GUS HILL ENTERPRISES 
 
 GUS HILL, Owner 
 
 CHAS. a BARTON, Gen. Mgr. 
 
 1358 Broadway New York 
 
 ORIGIN ALITY means SUCCESS- That's Me 
 
 BILLY BROAD 
 
 The Wandering cMinstrel 
 SINGING, TALKING AND DANCING COMEDIAN 
 
 MATERIAL NEW AND ORIGINAL 
 
 Per. Address, WHITE RATS OF AMEEUCA
 
 SEASON 1908-9 
 
 <»--^>.®-'^'-^ 
 
 -EDDIE FOY- 
 
 IN 
 
 Mr. Hamlet of Broadway 
 
 Management 
 JAKE & LEE SHUBERT 
 
 In Vaudeville 
 
 Wm. H. MAC ART 
 
 Management 
 WESLEY <S PINCUS 
 
 -EDDIE GIRARD- 
 
 AND 
 
 JESSIE GARDNER 
 
 "Dooley and the Diamond"
 
 PATSY DOYLE 
 
 Comedian and Dancer 
 
 A Laughing Hit in One 
 
 Address 
 WHITE RATS OF AflERICA 
 
 One Felix and Three Bartys Will Beat 
 c4ny Tiuo Pair 
 
 4==FELIX and BARRY==4 
 
 GEORGE FELIX 
 
 LYDIA BARRY - - EMILY BARRY 
 
 and CLARA BARRY 
 
 * ^ * 
 
 The Act that ghddens the 
 
 hearts of VaudMlle patrons
 
 Mr. James Harrigan 
 
 The First ^ 
 Tramp Juggler 
 
 s. P. Q. R. 
 
 LAVEEN-CROSS&CO. 
 
 Presenting their Second Edition of 
 
 "Roman Sports and Pastimes" 
 
 (COPYRIGHTED) 
 
 Assisted by Al C. Rio and Phil Travers 
 ORIGINATORS PRODUCERS
 
 TOM 
 HEARN 
 
 *^*^*^ 
 
 THE 
 
 LAZY 
 
 JUGGLER 
 
 Paul Cinquevalli 
 
 Cable Address ; "Avengment, London." 
 
 Telephone No. 1919 Gerrard 
 
 ANGER 6 BAUER 
 
 ...AGENTS FOR... 
 
 English, American and Continental Variety Artists 
 
 50 RUPERT STREET, W. 
 
 English and Continental Representatives for ¥ OMDON ENG. 
 
 Frank E. Fillis's Enterprises in South Africa A^\Ji^^^i^t i-i-^v..
 
 an** 
 
 7 minutes walk from Coney Island 
 
 ...is situated... 
 
 Brighton-by-the-Sea " 
 
 Beautiful liome sites at right prices 
 
 For full particulars, address 
 
 THE VAUDEVILLE INVESTORS COMPANY 
 
 ASTOR THEATRE BUILDING 
 
 Tel. JJg I Bryant 1531 BROADWAY 
 
 THE MORNING TELEGRAPH 
 
 SATISFYING N1:WSPAPER 
 Isn't It?
 
 ...THE ORIGINAL... 
 
 Willy Pantzer&Co. 
 
 The Acme of 
 
 Sensational 
 
 Acrobatic Art 
 
 CHAS.T.ALDRICH
 
 William 
 Heras 
 
 ...of... 
 
 Heras 
 
 Family 
 
 Joseph Hart's Attractions 
 
 CLEVER CARRIE DE MAR 
 
 "FUTURITY WINNER" COMPANY, England 
 
 "FUTURITY WINNER" COMPANY, Continent 
 
 "RAIN-DEARS • COMPANY, United States 
 
 "RAIN-DEARS" COMPANY, Europe 
 
 "POLLY PICKLES' PETS" COMPANY, United States 
 
 "POLLY PICKLES' PETS" COMPANY, Europe 
 
 "BATHING GIRL'S" COMPANY, United States 
 
 tj3* t^^ <^^ 
 
 New York Offices: 
 
 Koom 12, NEW YORK THEATRE BUILDING 
 
 London Offices: 
 
 150 OXFORD STREET
 
 ¥ 
 
 ¥ 
 ¥ 
 ¥ 
 
 jC-R-R-R COMPLIMENTS OF *tltltij^ 
 
 FOUR ^ 
 
 MORTONS 
 
 a a » e 13 a » a o a a a 
 
 SAM 
 KATE 
 
 CLARA 
 PAUL 
 
 Ik 
 
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 Compliments of 
 
 ^ * ^ 
 
 BOB MURPHY 
 
 ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Hotel Albany 
 
 ..The American Character Actor.. 
 
 Joseph Callahan 
 
 Originator of Great Men Past 
 and Present 
 
 The First cAdor to Present a. Dressing Room 
 ** cMake-up** and Costuming Characters 
 in vie'w of Audience* 
 
 Noiv Starring as De'bil in the Henry W, Savage 
 Version ** The "Devil/' 
 
 Management JAMES D. BARTON
 
 THE GREAT CAICEDO 
 
 KlXCi OF THE 'WIRE 
 THE ONLY AND ORIGINAL KINQ OP THE WIRE 
 
 Inventor of the 
 bounding wire. An 
 A(ft introduced at 
 Madison Square 
 Gcirden in 1 883. 
 Since then he has 
 played all the lead- 
 ing vaudeville thea- 
 tres in America as a 
 headliner ; also all 
 over Europe, India, 
 eind Australia. 
 
 Appeared by 
 special request be- 
 fore His Majesty 
 King Edward of 
 Great Britain. Cai- 
 cedo performs with 
 BOOTS, high 
 heels and spurs, 
 with and Xoithout 
 balancing poles his 
 daring and unique 
 feats. 
 
 Permanent Address in America, c-o New York Clipper 
 Permanent Address in London, England, c-o The Era 
 
 MORRISaMORRIS. 
 
 FVN ON A BROOM HANDLE 
 
 Herbert 
 Lloyd 
 
 'KING OF 
 
 DIAMONDS' 
 
 White Rats of America
 
 THAT GREEN 
 PAPER 
 
 You kpow it 
 by the Color 
 
 OUT SATURDAYS 
 
 M. A. SHEA 
 
 FRANK FINNEY 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 SEVERAL THINGS
 
 NAT M. WILLS 
 
 ^'The Happy Tramps' 
 
 RICE & PREVOST 
 
 -ca— IN — «X 
 
 ^'Bumpty Bumps ^' 
 
 %
 
 GXJS EDWARDS 
 
 is open at all times to write for you 
 anything from a comic opera to a comic 
 song 
 
 GXJS EDWARDS 
 
 is open to manage you in vaudeville or 
 production. Have a talk with him. 
 You might find that long looked for 
 opportunity 
 
 at 
 
 "The House of School Days" 
 
 Gus Edwards Music Publishing Company 
 
 1512 Broadway, New York City 
 
 White Rat 
 
 Charles J. Butler 
 
 ..Artist in.. 
 Oils and Water Colors 
 
 Illuminated "Addresses" 
 engrossed on Vellum 
 
 Original designs for "Lithos" 
 and Letterheads 
 
 See "Spirit of Starland" 
 
 and "Magic Wonders" 
 
 Address 
 
 White Rats 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 MISS G. LANG 
 
 CHAS.JACKLIN 
 
 In the "Dumb Girl"
 
 o 
 
 ^ 
 
 tS 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 Principal Comedians 
 TOPO'TH'WORLDCO." 
 
 Bailey & Austin 
 
 rianagementof 
 J. n. ALLISON 
 25 Leroy Street, N. Y. City 
 
 EDWIH KEOUGH
 
 <^' ^ '\\i>f 
 
 BARTON 
 
 AND 
 
 ASHLEY 
 
 Presenting in Europe 
 
 **Adani the Second" 
 
 By Will M. Cressy 
 
 ««« 
 
 Played in America by 
 MATHEWS & HARRIS 
 
 DeBIERE 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS 
 
 iK aK aK «S^ 
 
 CREATOR OF... 
 
 ...MODERN MAGIC
 
 It isnt 
 
 'what they 
 
 do. 
 
 It is the 
 
 'way they 
 
 do it* 
 
 International 
 Favorites. 
 
 John W. WORLD & KINGSTON linden 
 
 5fc; 
 
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 Compliments of 
 
 Sam Sidman 
 
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 g> i t JtA A A A A^ =r— ^ A A A A AA A^ 
 
 
 y / 
 
 fr/(Cf?ze 
 
 A New Sensation 
 
 in Hypnotic 
 
 Suggestion 
 
 "Pauline is 
 
 not a Lady ? ' ' 
 
 It 
 ft 
 
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 It 
 It 
 it 
 It 
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 It
 
 ROBERT 'Uhe Originator of the 
 HILLIARD Serious Play in Vaudeville 
 
 
 G 
 
 
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 The HOTEL BAYARD, at 142 West 49th 
 Street, New York, has become the favorite 
 house of a select cHentele. There is an air of 
 comfort and hospitaHty about it that appeals 
 to discriminating people. It is a home as well 
 as a tarrying place for the visitor for a day or 
 a week. Close to Broadway, at the upper end 
 of Times Square, it is convenient to every- 
 thing. Most of the Theatres are within five 
 minutes of the house. The rooms are all large 
 and light. The prices are very reasonable, 
 from one dollar a day to five. You would 
 agree with us that we give the best values in 
 New York. 
 
 M. F. MEEHAN, Proprietor.
 
 I am a small publisher^ therefore 
 will take a small ad* 
 
 Harry Cooper Publishing Co. 
 
 120 WEST 41st STREET 
 KEW YORK 
 
 Harvey i ..Hebrew.. 
 & Lea Comedians 
 
 Moonlight in the 
 Orange Grove 
 
 ««« 
 
 . "POLHE , 
 
 , mUSICAL , 
 
 ENTERTAINERS 
 
 DaVey^Everson 
 
 Mr. & Mrs. Robyns 
 
 PRESENTING 
 
 A Select Repertoire of One-Ad 
 
 Plays, in Vaudeville
 
 The FIRST, the REAL, the ORIGINAL Comedian-Pianist 
 WILL H. FOX 
 
 The STARTER of ALL TRICK=PLAYINQ Piano Acts 
 
 (ESTABLISHED 1888) 
 
 WILL H. FOX 
 
 Famous in the Footlight W^orld for HIS PaderewskI Satire 
 "PADDYWHISKI" 
 
 Playing the Leading Halls of Europe and America 
 A Success Through Force of Merit as an Artiste 
 
 WILL H. FOX 
 
 THE MAN WITH MANY IMITATORS 
 
 Compliments of 
 
 PAT ROONEY 
 
 AND 
 
 MARION BENT 
 
 THE BUSY BELL-BOY 
 
 WILLY ZIMMERMAN 
 
 c/l Friend of 
 GEORGE FULLER GOLDEN 
 
 ROBT. HENRY HODQE & CO. 
 
 PRESENTING 
 
 "Troubles of Bill Blithers, Bachelor" 
 
 IN CONSTRUCTION 
 
 "HIS NIGHT OFF" 
 •«A SUIT FOR BREACH OF PROMISE" 
 
 ALL GOOD ACTS AND A Per. Address, PORT RICHMOND 
 
 aOOD ACTOR TO DO THEM ft. L» New York
 
 HAL DAVIS 6 INEZ MACAULEY 
 
 1»KKSI:NT IX VAl'I)l-]VII.I.K 
 The Follow'ing High=Ciass Comedy Sketches 
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 
 
 Dy Kdiiiund Day 
 
 The Sensational Comedy Production 
 
 PALS 
 
 By Edmund Day 
 The Military Comedy Sketch 
 
 THE FALL OF 64 
 
 By Arthur M. Stace 
 
 o4ll Communicaiions 
 
 PERHANENT ADDRESS 
 CHKSA.NINC;. MICHIGAN 
 
 ONE CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 By Will M. Crcssy 
 
 The Big Automobile Racing Sensation 
 
 A RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 ]'.y Arthur M. btacc 
 In Preparation 
 
 THE YELLOW SCOOP 
 
 Bv OllivLT White 
 to HAL T>AVIS 
 
 GEO. E. DELMORE 
 
 A X D 
 
 JULES W. LEE 
 
 America's Foremost Athletes 
 
 c=o WHITE RATS 
 
 New York 
 
 BILLY ^URKE 
 
 responsible for 
 
 a 
 
 arence 
 
 Wilh 
 
 ur 
 
 id hi 
 
 lO-FUNNY FOLKS-/ 
 
 in 
 
 ...Vaudeville. 
 
 JOE SHEA 
 
 Represents 35 of Vaudeville's Headliners 
 Books and is interested in 
 
 BURTIS OPERA HOUSE, Auburn, N. Y. 
 
 RICHMOND THEATRE, No. Adams, Mass. 
 
 FAMILY THEATRE, Gloversville, N. Y. 
 KEENEY'S THEATRE, New Britain, Conn. 
 FAMILY THEATRE, Orange, N. J. 
 
 PARK THEATRE, Asbury Park, N. J. 
 AND MORE ft r^rkKi
 
 FINLAY & BURKE 
 
 ^ c« THE *< ^ 
 PROFESSIONAL 
 ENTERTAINERS 
 
 ROBERT DAILEY 
 
 COMEDIAN 
 
 THArS ALL 
 
 "GOOD LUCK 
 
 ***ana*** 
 GOOD HEALTH 
 
 GEORGE" 
 
 Joseph Coyne 
 
 R. E. GRAHAM 
 
 The c4merican Origina.1 
 
 BARON POPPOFF 
 
 in 
 THE mERRY WIDOW
 
 1
 
 Professional Cards 
 
 "^^ —
 
 Eugene Stratton 
 
 NEIL KENYON 
 
 In Scottish Character Studies 
 
 GEORGE MOZART 
 
 The Funny Englishman 
 The Famous KELLINOS 
 
 PREMIER RISLEY ACT OF THE WORLD 
 
 Seeley & Rhodesia 
 
 COMEDY AND NOVELTY ENTERTAINERS 
 
 George D' Albert 
 
 Vocal Comedian 
 
 ARTHUR REECE 
 
 A Smite in a Dress Suit 
 
 CLIFF RYLAND 
 ''Himself' 
 
 DUSTY RHODES 
 
 Comedian 
 
 Donaldson Bros. 
 
 Sports in a Jungle 
 
 Griffiths Brothers 
 
 The Original Eccentrics 
 
 ^OE O'GORMAN 
 Stelling & Revel 
 
 Grotesque Gymnasts 
 
 WAL PINK 
 
 "BROS. EGBERT 
 
 The Happy Dustmen 
 
 Wilson Hallett 
 
 ENGLAND'S IMPERSONATOR 
 OP CHILDREN 
 
 U L. GRANVILLE 
 
 Character Impersonator 
 
 Howard & St. Clair 
 
 louring England 
 
 BARNEY ARMSTRONG 
 
 * ' Something's gone wrong 
 with my band parts" 
 
 FRED RUSSELL 
 
 The ofigfinal one figftJfe 
 ventriloquist 
 
 Jiddress for all the above 
 VAUDEVILLE CLUB. LONDON, ENGLAND
 
 Joe Elvin 
 
 ''King of the Castle' 
 
 Fred Kitchen 
 
 The Bailiff 
 
 GEORGE LEYTON 
 
 London^s Ador Vocalist 
 
 Norman & Leonard 
 ...Trio... 
 
 Burt Shepard 
 
 At the Ptano 
 
 FRED GINNETT 
 Dick Turpin 
 
 Duncan & Godfrey 
 
 ''Me and Her'' 
 
 W. H. Clemart 
 
 The Ventriloquist 
 
 THE CRAGGS 
 In "Billy" 
 
 George Gilbey 
 
 "Spoaty " 
 
 HARRY TATE 
 
 Motoring & Fishing 
 
 WILL S'OHNSON 
 Comedian 
 
 BELLA & BIJOU 
 
 Society Entertainers 
 
 Sanford & Lyons 
 
 Simultaneous Dancers 
 
 Alfred Martinetti 
 
 ''A Terrible Nighe' 
 
 Alexandre^ Hughes 
 
 ENGLAND'S REPRESENTATIVE 
 MUSICAL COMEDIANS 
 
 Alf Chester 
 
 Comedian 
 
 THE MAPLES 
 
 [AMY & FRED] 
 
 Comedy c4rtists 
 
 mORNY CASH 
 
 The Lancashire Lad 
 
 Dave OToole 
 
 Comedian 
 
 Address for 
 VAUDEVILLE CLU^. 
 
 all the above 
 LONDON, ENQLANT>
 
 Todof Edward J. 
 
 Cameron & Flanagan 
 WM. CAHILL 
 
 ADAMS and KIRK 
 
 Premier America 
 XYLOPHONE ^iULOISTS 
 
 c-o White Rats of America-N.Y. City 
 
 HARRY /OLSON 
 
 The Original Dimple Sisters 
 Dick and Barney Ferguson 
 
 ECCENTRIC COMEDIANS AND DANCERS 
 
 FRED PRIMROSE 
 Phil.W.=PETERS=Nettie 
 
 Address 
 White Rats of America 
 
 BILL HANLON 
 
 DeVELDE&ZELDA 
 
 Artistic Equilibrists 
 
 SMITH & BURNS 
 
 (CAFE) 
 
 Mr. WM. F. HEELEY 
 
 [From CHICAGO] 
 HEELEY & MEEI.EY 
 Two Lucky Tramps 
 
 THE GAGNOUX 
 
 RAE & BROSCHE 
 
 Alivays Make Good 
 
 The Man With The Goods 
 
 HARRY THOMSON 
 
 Original " MAYOR of the Bowery" 
 CHARACTER DIALECTICIAN 
 
 TRACEY&CARTER 
 
 Comedy Aerial Act 
 
 FROBLE & RUGE 
 
 Past Five Years Appearing 
 Principal Theatres of Europe 
 
 SHAMES McDUFF 
 Dolph and Susie Levino 
 
 WEST HAVEN, CONN. 
 U. S. A. 
 
 SID GRAUMAN 
 
 HARRY ZEDA
 
 Voujere & Franconi 
 
 Comedians and Singers 
 
 White Rats, New York 
 
 PHILIP APEL 
 
 t^Charader Comedian.* 
 
 MARION 
 VICTORIA 
 
 MURRAY 
 
 Direction of QIQ'T'FRQ 
 
 AL SUTHERLAND »31»^ A tilxO 
 
 RAY COX 
 
 '* Dixie Girl'' 
 
 Eugene Ellsworth 
 
 in Vaudeville 
 
 c-o White Rats of America 
 
 Charles Horwitz 
 
 Author of Plays,Sketches,Songs,Sc. 
 
 KNICKERBOCKER THEATRE BUILDING 
 Room 315, 1402 Broadway, N. Y. 
 
 Jack SYMONDS 
 
 "man of Ease" 
 
 SHARP BROS. 
 
 White Rats 
 
 THE KOPPES 
 
 Comedy Jugglers 
 
 BOWEN BROS. 
 
 College Boys^ 
 Singers and Dancers 
 
 Best Wishes 
 Bob Cunningham 
 
 White Rats of America 
 
 LARRY SMITH 
 
 and 
 
 MAMIE CHAMPION 
 
 Compliments of 
 
 Clifford and Burke 
 
 BEST WISHES 
 
 T.CAMERON 
 
 (Nellie) 
 
 LUCKIE & YOAST 
 
 Knight Bros, and 
 Sawtelle 
 
 HERBERT'S DOGS 
 Wyoming, DeU 
 
 The man with a thousand songi 
 
 William Dillon 
 
 BILL HANLON'S 
 
 Theatrical Headquarters 
 
 SACREMENTO, CAL 
 
 JOE BIRNES 
 
 Singing Comedian 
 
 White Rats of Americin
 
 Frank J* Conroy 
 
 ...and*** 
 
 George LeMaire 
 
 Presenting 
 KING FOR A NIGHT 
 
 Harry Deaves & Co. 
 
 present their 
 
 Dramatic Manikins 
 
 in scenes from 
 "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN" 
 
 THE 
 
 Mike J.KELLYS Alma 
 
 COMEDIAN and 
 SOUBRETTE 
 
 IN VAUDVILLE 
 
 DIf 'K J. HUNTEK 
 
 Fitzgerald j Wilson 
 
 CONSISTENT 
 COMEDIANS 
 
 1877 -- LIKE GOOD WINE - 1908 
 
 Olympia Quartet 
 
 HUGH MACK M. J. SULLIVAN 
 Still a big hit in Vaudeville 
 
 Independent . Amateur 
 
 Cadets ^"° Minstrek 
 
 Address HUGH HACK 
 
 c-o WHITE RATS 
 
 MARZELLA 
 
 Queen of the 
 
 Feathered World 
 
 JKAJKA 
 
 Wonderfully Educated 
 
 Parrots, Cockatoos, 
 
 Pigeons, Macaws, 
 
 and Giant 
 
 Ravens 
 
 The biggest and most original 
 
 act of its kind in existence 
 
 Have played all the leading 
 
 theatres over the world 
 
 Permanent address 
 
 CLIPPER, New York City 
 
 Wm.==Frank 
 
 The Two Graces 
 
 Polite Comedy 
 JOE EDMONDS 
 
 *'TheHowDeDoMan'* 
 
 Fred Nolan 
 
 Versatile Comedian 
 
 Joe, Myra, & Buster 
 
 KEATON
 
 "Happy" 
 Jack Gardner 
 
 Just an Entertainer 
 
 Chas. O. Fred. M. 
 
 RICE & CADY 
 
 German Comedians 
 
 Gray & Graham 
 
 Musical Bell Boy 
 ♦ ♦ ♦ and * ♦ # 
 military maid 
 
 Paul Stephens 
 
 Phenomenal unsupported 
 
 pole climber and balancer 
 
 Unexcelled Novelty 
 
 Per. Address 
 340 W. 27th St., N. Y. City 
 
 McMafaon&Chappelle 
 
 and tlieir 
 
 Pullman Porter Maids 
 
 Trip De Luxe through 
 Laughland 
 
 Compliments 
 
 ***of*** 
 
 DENNIS KO'BRIEN 
 
 GEO. B. RENO'S 
 Comedians 
 
 Touring Europe 
 
 THE FINNEYS 
 
 James and E'sie 
 
 Champion szuimmers 
 of the 'world 
 
 Address c-o Clipper, London, 
 Eng. 
 
 George E. Murphy 
 Walt E.Whitman 
 and Company 
 
 Presenting the *Best 
 in Vaudeville ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 
 
 EVERHARDT 
 
 Christopher 
 Columbus 
 ^ of J^ 
 HOOPS
 
 HIBBERT & 
 
 WARREN 
 
 The Funny Dancer 
 
 ***and*** 
 The Piano Player 
 
 BLOCKSOM & BURNS 
 
 Originators of 
 
 Burlesque Equilibrism 
 
 With the invisible wire 
 
 FRED ALBERT 
 
 Ferrell Bros. 
 
 The Smartest of 
 
 Comedy Cyclists 
 
 Cunningham 
 and D^Ivry 
 
 Eccentric Comedy 
 Sketch Artists ^ 
 
 Milt Wood 
 
 The T>ancer ivith 
 the Chair 
 
 Touring in ^auddbille 
 
 Herbert Brenon 
 Helen Downing 
 
 In Vaude'bille 
 THE 
 
 PELOTS 
 
 ^ Odd and 4 
 Humorous Jugglers 
 
 RALPH POST 
 
 ..and,. 
 ED RUSSELL 
 
 Management-Schuberts 
 
 GHAS. B. GUSSie 
 
 Carter, Taylor & Co. 
 
 Presenting 
 "Who's Your Friend" 
 
 " Those 'Were the happy 
 days " 
 
 Howard & North 
 
 A NEW EDITION 
 
 Back in Wellington
 
 6==MusicaI Cuttys==6 
 
 *' Americans Foremost 
 cMusicat Family*' 
 
 Per. Address 
 
 3034 EAST BALTIMORE STREET 
 
 Baltimore, Md. William Cutty, Mgr, 
 
 The Famous 
 
 T>ELNO TROUPE 
 
 Aerial Bar Artists 
 
 Per. address, c-o The Chalfant, 
 Indianapolis, Ind. 
 
 AL. JOLSON 
 
 HEAVILY 
 ^th 
 
 Lew Dockstader's 
 
 Minstrels 
 
 William Rock 
 
 and 
 
 Maude Fulton 
 
 Management 
 
 C B. Dillingham 
 The LAWLORS 
 
 Mabel - Charles B. = Alice 
 
 In 
 An Original Vocal Character 
 
 Sketchf entitled 
 " NIGHT AND DAY ON THE 
 SIDEWALKS OF NEW YORK " 
 
 The Sensation of all Europe 
 
 Wizard STONE 
 
 AND 
 
 His Globe of Death 
 
 Address 
 
 Weiland, 16 St. Martins St. 
 
 London 
 
 TORCAT 
 
 Presenting 
 
 His Educated 
 Game Roosters 
 
 Wally and '^^1^1^'' 
 Lottie Helston 
 
 Singling, Dancing, 
 
 Acrobatic Comedy Pair 
 
 New Act by BERT HOWARD 
 
 Permanent address 
 White Rats 
 
 Oh Look Who's Here 
 
 Harry Marks Stewart 
 
 The Original Hebrew 
 
 Comedian 
 
 ALWAYS SOMETHING NEW 
 
 165 Schaeffer Street 
 Brooklyn. - - N, Y. 
 
 Morton & Elliott 
 16 Years Together 
 
 One Long c/l 
 
 Unbroken Novelty 
 Spell of on any 
 Success Programme
 
 The Radium Lights 
 
 of Vaudeville 
 
 BILLY "Swede " HALL 
 and JENNIE COLBORN 
 
 in an Artistic Character Playlet 
 "The Swede and 
 
 the Happy Girl " 
 
 ROSS 
 
 and 
 FENTON 
 
 ZARNES 
 
 Novelty 
 
 Gymnasts 
 
 JOHN SLAVIN 
 
 Different from All Others 
 
 Hany 
 
 Stewart AComrdy 
 
 Act in One 
 
 Time 16 Mtfinte Desmond 
 & Co. 
 
 to 18 
 
 Minutes 
 
 In "COHEN THE COP' 
 
 By Skarl Ali.en 
 
 Wo carry our The exterior of a 
 
 own Drop police station 
 
 Mattie Keene 
 
 THE 
 
 ELLA WHEELER WILCOX 
 
 "Comedienne" 
 
 J. H. PHILLIPS, Manager 
 
 DONAT BEDIM 
 
 ivtth his acrobatic 
 partners 
 JIM and JAM 
 In Vaudeville 
 
 Compliments of 
 JOSEPH CARROLL 
 
 and 
 WILL 3". COOKE 
 
 J. K. Hutchinson 
 
 Vaudevilling 
 
 Geo. P. Murphy 
 
 ^..German 
 
 Comedian*,*
 
 TO THE THEATRICAL PROFESSION 
 
 MANAGERS and WHITE RATS of AMERICA 
 There is BUT O^E 
 
 SEVENGALA 
 
 [Not SVINOALI or SVENGALI] 
 Aadmy act, transmission by telepathy, 
 fa fully proiecied by Copyright Laius. 
 All persons infringing upon above title 
 <ARE IMPOSTERS — " NUFF SED " 
 WALTER C. MACK 
 c-o White Rats of America 
 
 PETE 
 
 Mack, 
 
 special Scenery 
 electrical Effects 
 
 EUGENIE 
 
 "Grit's Thanksgiving" Oj /^ 
 By Fred J. Beaman O^ V-rfO* 
 
 Best Wishes from 
 
 Jack Kloville 
 
 *'ThatFatPropertyBoy" 
 
 t*t IN tjft 
 
 "THE NIGHTINGALE" 
 
 Care of V\ HITE RATS 
 
 Edwards, Keller 
 
 Vaudeville Agency 
 
 (Inc.) 
 
 ST. JAMES BUILDING 
 
 Bnadway & 26th Street 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 Qustav Mayer 
 
 President 
 
 Qerman Dail^ Qazette 
 
 Publishing Co. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
 H. B. Marinelli, Ltd. 
 
 The World's Agency 
 
 New York 
 
 London 
 
 Paris 
 
 Berlin 
 
 WESLEY and 
 PINCUS 
 
 Vaudeville Agents 
 
 Collins 
 & Brown 
 
 German 
 Comedians 
 
 THEATRICAL 
 SCENERY 
 
 *' Painted by Artists 
 That's th e Dif ference" 
 
 Daniels Scenic Studios 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 Jack Mason 
 
 Producer and 
 General Stage Director 
 
 Per. Address 
 WHITE RATS
 
 The Originators of the 
 Bounding Billiard Table 
 
 Kelly & Ashby 
 
 Address White Rats 
 
 JUNIE 
 McCREE 
 
 Irvin R. Walton 
 
 121 WEST 42d STREET 
 
 c-o MIRROR 
 
 GIRDELLAR'S 
 
 Comedy AcrobattcDogs 
 Billy S. Newton 
 
 Dancing Comedian 
 White Rats 
 
 "BOB RICHMOND 
 
 (A New York Clufa Man) 
 
 Harry C.Stanley&Co. 
 
 in the nofbet and 
 refined comedy sketch 
 
 "Before the Overture" 
 
 Address White Rats 
 
 Alexander Sevan's 
 
 PRO DUCTIONS 
 
 IN VAUDEVILLE 
 
 The Romany Opera Co. 
 
 AND 
 
 The Zingari Singers 
 
 Ettore Campana 
 
 Principal Baritone 
 Romany Opera Co. 
 
 Alfred E. Aarons 
 
 OFFERS 
 
 Maurice Levi 
 
 and his POPULAR BAND 
 
 SEASON 1908-9 
 
 DICK LYNCH 
 
 ' 'A Iso from Michigan ' ' 
 
 Best Wishes 
 ALF GRANT
 
 ZINELL and BOUTELLE 
 
 io their MUSICAL COMEDY 
 23T MILES TO NE\V VOKK 
 
 16 min. in one Carry O'wn scenery 
 
 ^EN SHIELDS 
 
 BYRON and 
 BLANCHE 
 
 HORTON 
 
 and 
 LA TRISKA 
 
 RINALDO 
 
 SHAMES T. LEE 
 
 MAX REYNOLDS 
 in 'Vaudeville 
 
 Yours in Fun 
 
 Harry Corson Clarke 
 
 VENMAN mALEY 
 «*• Comedian ••♦ 
 
 SAONA 
 
 Judge for Yourself 
 
 Alf. Holt 
 
 The Rapid-Fire Mimic 
 
 Third Season— StoU Toot 
 
 FRANK TOM 
 
 TIERNEY& ODELL 
 
 **1h& Bar nstof mer s ** 
 
 White Rats of America 
 
 Frank LATONA Jen 
 
 -=^ in '■%> 
 cMusic and Comed:^ 
 
 JAMES H. CULLEN 
 The man from 
 the West /> 
 
 MOONEY & HOLBEIN 
 
 England's Premiers 
 
 Ellis Mona 
 
 BLAMPHIN & HEHR 
 
 James Marguerite 
 
 COLE & CLEMENS 
 
 Comedy Sketch Artists 
 rir. and firs. 
 
 HOWARD TRUESDELL 
 
 High Class Comedy Sketches 
 
 MURPHY and 
 WILLARD 
 
 *Best Wishes 
 TIM CRONm
 
 AL Larson ^°Sn! 
 & Frances Namon 
 
 A Success _ Comedy Cycling 
 the World Over ~ & Ball Punching 
 
 The Incomparable Conjuror 
 LEIPSIC 
 
 Stoll Tour Orpheum 
 
 England 
 
 June 8 
 
 Australia's Representative 
 Musical Act 
 
 THE LESLIE BR05. 
 
 Stoll Tour. England 
 
 maxRitterS |°S 
 
 /!L.-.^^ 77^o^-->« Eccentric Dancers 
 UraCe roster and comedians 
 
 Alf. T. Wilton Somers i3 Warner 
 A Stitch in Time Gathers No Moss 
 
 John & Dick Mack 
 
 Address Eccentric 
 
 Vaudeville Club Comedians 
 
 London 
 
 SOMERS & WARNER 
 VARIETY AGENCY 
 
 Oxford Music Hall BIdg. LONDON 
 
 The International Rendezvour 
 
 The German Club 
 
 41 Lisle Street, London 
 
 I. A. L. Meeting Every Sunday 7.30 
 
 Sam Elton 
 
 Queen of All Educated Horses 
 
 Princess Trixie 
 
 W. Harrison Barnks. OWNER 
 
 THE ORIGINAL 
 
 Joe J. Sullivan 
 
 Irish Comedian 
 
 ALBENE and LA BRANT 
 
 Comedy Second=Si^ht 
 
 Address White Rats 
 
 Glenroy & Russell 
 
 Melnotte, Lanole 
 Duo 
 
 AL G. Flourney 
 
 Beauvais, Maridor & Co. 
 
 In the Novel Comedy Dramatic Sketch 
 "THE WILDFLOWER" 
 
 Copyright Class D. XX C. No. 7202 
 Per. Address: By Aaron Hoffman 
 c-oVIctor House,274 Indiana St .Chlcago.lll. 
 
 Welt Anyway, 
 
 Bobby GAYLOR 
 
 l^ho is 
 
 Tommy McALEER'S 
 
 UNCLE MIKE 
 
 and is noiv retiring 
 
 cAdlibitum 
 
 t4t - Button - t4t
 
 ...Professional Hotels... 
 t^ and Cafes j^
 
 Churchill's 
 
 46th ST. & BROADWAY 
 
 The Official 
 
 Restaurant for 
 the White Rats 
 
 George Davis 
 
 EIGHTH and 
 RACE STREETS 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
 Ashland Hotel 
 
 SEVENTH and RACE 
 STREETS 
 
 PHII^ADELPHIA, PA.. 
 
 DAD FRAZER, Proprietor 
 
 TELLER^ 
 
 WHITE RAT HOTEL 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
 BREAKFAST 712 DINNER 5-7 
 
 LUNCH - -12 2 SUPPER 11 12 
 
 RtFERENCE-PROFESSION 
 
 Ebi.,l)lishcd 1S71 
 
 RATE S; $8 double, $9 sin gle 
 
 Breakfast served in rooms without 
 
 extra charge 
 Sti'am Heat Electric Lights 
 
 The McDonald Hotel 
 
 Biiv^hamton, - - - N. Y. 
 
 Headquarters of White Rats and 
 all Theatrical People 
 
 Anwricnn Plan 
 ."FH sinKle— $7 double pe rwock 
 
 Ehrich House 
 
 Carl Ehrich, Prop. 
 
 227-229 West 38th Street 
 
 Ne>v York 
 PROFESSSON&L BOARDING HOUSE 
 
 Karlaragns 
 Theatrical Hotel 
 
 CATERING ENTIRELY Headquarters for 
 TO THE PROFESSION White Rats of Amer. 
 
 204 & 206 Franklin St. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
 WALTER J. TALBOT White Rats meeiing 
 WILMOTT WILLIAMS e'hery Thar, e^eg 
 
 The Alert Cafe 
 
 J 934 Fillmore Street 
 San Francisco, Cal. 
 
 Newly Furnished Hot & Cold Baths 
 Special Rates to Professional Peopla 
 
 GALAX HOTEL 
 
 . . Corner Riverside and Bernard . . 
 Spokane - - Wash. 
 
 HOTEL PERRIN 
 
 161-163-165 Washington Street 
 
 Providence. K. L 
 
 Amerlcjn Plan, $2.00 Per Day 
 
 Special Rates to the Profession
 
 Eugene Goossens, at 46, is the musi- 
 cal mainspring of Cincinnati and its 
 famous May Festivals. Among the 
 truly sophisticated of living conduc- 
 tors, this British-born scion of a dis- 
 tinguished musical family has long 
 been an important figure on the Amer- 
 ican musical scene. Unyielding, re- 
 served, taciturn on the podium, his 
 manner belies his inner feeling and 
 warmth. Master of the art of under- 
 statement, he is nevertheless cosmo- 
 politan in approach. Sounds from his 
 orchestra never fall on the ear with the 
 effect of that spontaneous and wild 
 order that reigns in nature, but rather 
 with the considered and accomplished 
 effect of a Carlyle essay. His orchestra 
 men, and other friends, adore him. 
 
 
 SK. 
 
 '/' 
 
 tt^^aeat 
 
 Karl Krueger, in his forties, returned 
 to his native state after intensive study 
 and conducting in Vienna, to give 
 Kansas City its first successful orches- 
 tra. Beginning at the depth of the de- 
 pression, he whipped a ragged orches- 
 tra into shape and developed it to its 
 present estate. Thorough and sincere, 
 with an appreciation of melos and all 
 that it implies, his interpretations have 
 the quality of indisputable logic and 
 at the same time afford release from 
 the thralldom of method. He is open- 
 ing up a new musical richness to the 
 Middle West. "For us," says William 
 Allen White, "his orchestra stands as a 
 monument to appreciation of music in 
 this prairie region. It is our orchestra."
 
 SCHAAL FROM FIX 
 
 Z^t 
 
 Bruno Walter, 63, enormously enhanced his reputation among 
 younger American music-lovers through his guest conductorship of 
 the NBC Symphony, which ended last April 8th. Gentle and sensi- 
 tive, Mr. Walter is one of the conductors whom an orchestra does 
 not obey, but to whom it responds. At his best, he is a leader of 
 infinite tenderness, full of feeling. Occasionally he exaggerates and 
 becomes sentimental. In earlier visits, when he was among those 
 estimable gentlemen of the New York Philharmonic-Symphony, 
 who thought themselves worthy of greatest consideration (at least 
 a Toscanini) and worked against rather than with him, he did not 
 secure good results. His musicianship and knowledge are indis- 
 putable and, when his flair for exhibitionism docs not overcome 
 him, he brings a unique quality to his music. "Real music," he 
 says, "has a life of its own, and an interpreter can only develop it."
 
 t^et/zend/ce 
 
 Artur Rodzinski, 45, has scored signal success wherever he has con- 
 ducted. Trained to be a lawyer, he deserted for music. Discovered 
 directing a performance of Die Meisler singer in Warsaw, he was 
 brought to Philadelphia by Leopold Stokowski. Since then he has 
 conducted the Los Angeles, Cleveland, New York Philharmonic- 
 Symphony, and NBC orchestras. He introduced to New York 
 Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony and Lady Macbeth of Alzensk, and 
 centered attention on Rosa Pauly and Strauss's Elektra. Always a 
 thorough worker, he is master of every detail, a first-class drill 
 sergeant. Moreover, he infuses orchestras with excitement and en- 
 thusiasm and brings forth a wealth of tonal splendor. He has be- 
 come noted for his intelligent and sympathetic conducting of mod- 
 ern works. Gadgets of all kinds are his hobby. The first time he used 
 an electric shaver, he was in despair because his beard wouldn't 
 grow quickly enough to allow him to use it again the same day.
 
 i%. 
 
 eiica'm'J^€ 
 
 '^f^n^en-e/fi 
 
 y 
 
 Arturo Toscanini, 72, genius and consummate craftsman, most 
 famous and highest paid living conductor, is still in searcli of im- 
 attainable ideals. Starting with a new supply of dollar watches (the 
 gift of NBC's John Royal, inarked "for rehearsals only"), he al- 
 ternately nms his nose up and down the score, stamps his feet and 
 flings a watch to the floor, shouting: ''''Ignoranli! IgnoranlV."' Inde- 
 fatigable, fanatical, filled with contagious enthusiasm, vigor and 
 fire, he is bending and blending the NBC orchestra to his will at 
 an age when lesser men have retired. Not happy unless work- 
 ing, he fli(-s from one country to another, was unable to under- 
 stand the lamcntal^le lack of a transatlantic airplane service. 
 
 Eugene Ormandy, at 40 the successor to Stokowski, is director of 
 one of the world's great orchestras and the envy of dozens of his 
 colleagues. He attributes his rise to blind luck, good breaks and 
 continuous work. Eighteen years ago he was sitting in the last stand 
 (jf the .second vitjlin section in Koxy's Oapitol 'J hratrc Orchestra, 
 liaving arrived shortly bifore from his native Budapest. Ten years 
 later he scored his first success at Kobin I lood Dell. S.unc season he 
 substituted for Toscanini, against the advice of his friends, "simply 
 Ijccausc I felt I knew my job." After five years in Minnea])(jlis he 
 was called back to Philadelphia — this time as regular conductor.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACIUT>- 
 
 r 
 
 ^ri^^ert^/U 
 
 s& 
 
 o^ce^det^eez. 
 
 y 
 
 John BarblrollI, at 39, is the likable, much-debated occupant of 
 what, under Toscanini, was the nation's most spotlighted conduc- 
 torial post. In the three winters he has been conducting the New York 
 Philharmonic-Symphony, Barbirolli has developed considerably, 
 made good programs and many friends. With his men he tries to se- 
 cure in a friendly, companionable way the end he desires. He is en- 
 thusiastic and vital about everything he does. His creed: "Integrity 
 and sincerity to yourself, and loyalty to the man whose music you 
 are seeking to interpret. Never think, 'What can I make of this 
 piece?' but try to discover what the composer meant to say." 
 
 Serge Koussevitzky, at 65, is top man among regular conductors of 
 U. S. symphony orchestras and the only conductor who consistently 
 "sells out" Carnegie Hall. Fifteen years ago he came to Boston, un- 
 loosed a flock of novelties, fired old stand-bys from the orchestra. 
 "I vant yungk blott!" he cried. "If dose oldt chentlcmcn vant to 
 sleep, let dem sleep at home !" And the same went for Beacon Hill 
 and Back Bay dowagers. Protest as they might, they heard what 
 Koussevitzky thought good for them. At performances, Koussevitzky 
 strides in like a Boyer, bows imperiously — no actor covild do it as 
 well — and lets loose his excellent version of what music should be.