Actorviews (1923)

62 Actorviews “I’m trying to answer this,” says Barry, and hands me a two-hundred-word telegram from E. H. Sothern and Winthrop Ames. They are just back from France with a message from Pershing calling on all good American actors to come over there and combat homesickness with entertainment. It is a chatty telegram, but imperative. Barry has gone this far with his answer: “As I have failed to pass for active service with the medical board, I’m delighted with the opportunity to help a little in any capacity. It’s a great chance for those of us who can’t be on the regular job, much as we might want to.” He adds: “Thanks very much,” and signs. “It’s a wonder,” says I, “the newspapers didn’t have a story of the medical examiners turning you down.” “Not likely. I gave my own name — Blythe. I was born, like my father, Blythe ; and, if I die respectable, I hope to be buried Blythe.” Tap-tap! and this time it is Mr. Bevo himself — four of him crowding the ice in a champagne cooler. Barry sips his beerless beer and talks the night away. Why not? It is Saturday night. He has lived all week only for those eight poignant performances of Peter Ibbetson that are the talk of as much of the town as knows great acting when faced by it. Why not? Once, maybe — but no longer is there any danger of the younger Barry inheriting the obituary written to his living father by the jestful, doting Wilton Lackaye :