San Francisco dramatic review (1899)

2 THE SAN FRANCISCO DRAMATIC REVIEW May 12, 1900 The Hit of the Show An Australian Theatrical Story GERALD L. DILLON, Press Agent of the Grand Opera House. In the winter of 18 — I was assassinating the line of business known in theatrical .parlance as "walking gentleman," in a dramatic company in Rockhampton, the chief city of Northern Queensland, Australia. The company consisted of sixteen people, the principal member and proprietor of it being an old English actor named Sawkins, who continually boasted of by-gone triumphs at Sadler's Wells and the Surry Theatres, London, and of having been the favorite chief support of Macready. Barry Sullivan, Charles Matthews and other thespian celebrities. The leading lady, an exceedingly clever actress and a very attractive woman, rejoiced in the historical appellation of Mary Tudor. Her husband was our jeune premier and light comedian, and was known as Rupert Windeyer. He was a tall, handsome man of military appearance and evidently a gentleman as far as breeding and education were concerned, but rather a wooden sort of an actor, the only kind of characters in which he appeared to advantage, being aristocratic light comedy villains, which he certainly played very well. In emotional roles he relied solely on his good looks and was the idol of many silly girl patrons of the theatre. With us, however, he was very unpopular, owing to his cynical and disagreeable manner and the air of superiority he assumed. Of my other stage associates it is not now necessary to speak. The company, though far from comparing with Charles Frohman's, was nevertheless a very creditable one, and its industry can be computed from the fact that it three times a week presented a change of bill. The constant study and rehearsals necessitated by such frequent alterations of programme kept us nearly all the time occupied— in fact it was a case of work, work, work, and no play, save that which we got before the footlights at night. The town in which we were stationed was situated on the banks of a dirty, foggy river, the Fitzroy, and wet and miasma were the unfailing accompaniments of winter. Just as we had resigned ourselves to the monotony and discomfort of our existence, there came a sudden break in it in the shape of a male addition to our company. As he is the hero of the incident I am about to relate, a full and particular description of him is not only in perfect order, but absolutely necessary He was a little, dapper fellow, almost as bald as a billiard ball, red and jolly-faced, and apparently about fifty years of age He was scrupulously neat in his attire and always affected a suit of solemn black of an old fashion His face was clean shaven and the gold-rimmed spectacles, which seemed to be an indispensable portion of him, gave the finishing touch to his appearance which was that of a well-fed, goodtempered and thoroughly self-satisfied divine. Of his nationality there could not be a shadow of a doubt — his speech betrayed him. He had been born within the sound of Bow Bells and was a fine and unadulterated specimen of a Cockney. He called himself Hiram Gilpin, and certainly had not the faintest claim to the title of actor. Why he was entrusted even with minor utility roles was a mystery to us. However, he was in high favor with Sawkins whom he declared he remembered in London as the most idolized actor of his day. It was probably to this wonderful memory that he owed his engagement and the good will of the "old man" as we irreverently called our manager. He must have been possessed of some private means, for though he received but a beggarly salary he was very lavish in his expenditure. This combined with his inexhaustable fund of like the famous Tim Finnigan, a brogue l>oth rich and sweet. He also had fallen from grace in his youth. Owing to a slight disagreement with his landlord in In land, be had in a moment of passion applied a lighted torch to a rick of hay, an act which the English Government had shown its appreciation of by furnishing him with a free passage to Australia and politely intimating that it would be advisable for him to remain there. These two worthies indulged in yarns of the most harrowing character, in which escaped convicts, bushrangers, detectives, troopers and policemen played most exciting parts. Their blood-curdling stories were greatly relished by Gilpin, who in return would regale them with diverting anecdotes of Petticoat Lane, St. Giles, The Seven Dials and other unsavory quarters of the New Babylon. "Jack Shepherd," "It's Never Too Late To Mend" and "The Ticket-ofLeave Man" were among the dramatic gems we presented to the Roekhamptonites.and they appeared to afford Gilpin peculiar gratification. The latter play widened the breach between Windever and him beyond all hope of closing. In the final act, when Windeyer, who was playing the thief, Jem Dalton, was seized and handcuffed by Sawkins, as Hawkshaw, Gilpin, who was watching the scene from the wings with ••I' am a detective from Scotland Yard, and here's my warrant." anecdote, his jovial manner and good nature caused him to be extremely popular, and his lack of histrionic ability was completely overlooked by us — in fact we voted him a very useful and reliable man in a company. Everybody in the show liked Gilpin except Rupert Windeyer. A mutual aversion seemed to possess them both at first meeting, ami Windeyer never missed an opportunity to mortify Gilpin. He made him the butt for his satirical jokes; he ridiculed hisaccent, his grammar and his acting, and though the insults were not resented, it was evident to us all that they were deeply felt. The little Cockney was the life and soul of the dressing-rooms, and many a dreary wait he beguiled with his droll and quaint stories. His principal associate among us was Basket, the first old man, whose past had been a very varied one. He had been a transported convict, a flogger in a penal settlement, a ticket-of-leave man and a policeman before he had donned the sock and buskin. He was discreetly silent about his disreputable experiences, imagining them unknown to us, but he would talk by the hour about his hairbreadth escapes and marvelous daring and captures when a member of the force. Another valued chum of Gilpin's was the low comedian; a gentleman by the name of Galway, who possessed great enjoyment, was so tickled that he indulged in a hearty burst of laughter. Windeyer imagined that he was guying his acting and at the close of the performance assailed him with a torrent of abusive epithets and concluded by spitting in his face. The eyes of the little man fairly blazed with anger, he made a gesture as if to resent the indignity, but by an effort controlled himself, turned on his htel and walked away. A few nights after, Gilpin, who to all appearances had recovered his equanimity, appeared among us pregnant with news concerning a certain fortune-teller named Azana, who had arrived in the city and was plying her trade. He had been one of her earliest visitors and was extravagantly loud in her praise. She was the miracle of the nineteenth century. She had told him of occurrences in his past life that he was positive were unknown to any but himself, and he was confident the woman was acting under supernatural influence. He also vouchsafed the information that she had predicted for him a halcyon future. We all laughed and made fun of his enthusiasm. "Did she tell you you'd e\er make a great actor?" I impertinently asked. "Well, she didn't exactly say that," he replied quietly "hut she told me that one night I should make the hit of the show." This was the signal for a roar of mirth on our part, and Windeyer, who had entered in time to hear his remark, gave an ugly sneer. That Gilpin saw it was evidenced by an angry flush on hischeeks, but he otherwise took no notice, and a few moments after I heard him volubly enlarging on the wonderful skill of the Seer to Miss Tudor and the other actresses. Women like, they were easily impressed and declared their intention of visiting her. The following evening I overheard Windeyer and his wife (Miss Tudor) engaged in conversation. I could see by her manner that she was greatly agitated, and I gathered from what she said that she had been to see "The Great Azana" and had been mystified and terrified at her revelations and prophecies; in fact the poor woman was in a state bordering on hysteria. Windeyer laughed at her at first, but after a while seemed impressed, and a gloomy and savage expression took possession of his countenance. We all in turn visited the fortuneteller, and all returned perplexed and astoni>hed. When I say all, I except Windeyer; I cannot speak for him. However, a few days after I saw him in conversation with his wife he tendered their resignations to the management to take effect a month hence. This news brought no sorrow to us. We had nothing against the woman — in fact, we rather liked her, but regarded her off the stage as a nonentity; the man we thoroughly detested. His cowardly and blackguardly treatment of little Gilpin had set us all against him, and if we had any feeling in the matter it was one of satisfaction. Gilpin, however, manifested not the slightest concern beyond carelessly asking the date of their departure. Well, their last week and the night of their complimentary benefit arrived, for which the profitable chestnut, "East Lynne," was resuscitated. It drew a packed house and Windeyer proved a great successas the nonchalantFraneis Levison. Miss Tudor being, of course, the unfortunate Lady Isabel. To Gilpin was allotted the small role of Sergeant Bullock. In the fourth act he made his appearance and according to the directions in his part nrrested and handcuffed Sir Frances Levison (Windeyer). As soon as they had made their exeunt, Windeyer asked him to unlock the handcuffs, as he had the key in his possession. Gilpin surlily and reluctantly obeyed. Windeyer noticing this tauntingly said to him : "You'd like to arrest me and handcuff me in earnest, wouldn't you?" "Yes, by God, I would," was the passionate retort. ' Well, you'll have to live a long time before you do," said Windeyer jeeringly as he sauntered toward his dressing room. The fifth act came, and with it Windeyer's final scene, which secured for him a splendid recall, which he took manacled, for he had been again handcuffed for the purpose of the play. When he came off the stage he searched for his attendant policeman and found him in his dressing-room. ' What the devil do you mean by leaving me in this manner ?" he angrily exclaimed. "Quick, unlock these infernal things." "I'll see you damned first," was the cool reply. "I'll smash you to pieces when I get free," screamed the enraged actor. "Take the key from him, boys." "You needn't trouble yourselves,