San Francisco dramatic review (1899)

6 THE SAN FRANCISCO DRAMATIC REVIEW August I, iyo8. "Well, it did get the most votes! " declared Mrs. Slocum, mother of Earl Esterbrook. in her high whine, "though it's true Earlie wouldn't have had any part in that." She was going on to lead the mobs this week, and there were so many extra women up-stairs that the two girls had taken her in to dress with them. "But that's the trouble of having these contests; the play the public chooses leaks out every time. He might have known that it would be Camille — it always is ; and Armand's a good enough part for anybody — Earlie's father made one of his greatest successes in it. And then to disappoint — I think it kind of reflects on the company. Seems like a cheat. Earlie doesn't like it at all." "I don't believe anybody'll blame Earlie, Mrs. Slocum," said the ingenue. Liza Dane drew her skirt triumphantly down over her elaborate head, and as she emerged smiled bitterly at Elfie. "Fancy his letting Liddy have Camille — before Chesney." "He couldn't be expected to," said the sensible old lady. "And he needed a new piece." "And he wanted the chance to wear three uniforms ! I suppose they all get like that when they get old. My pretty Liddy! She doesn't say how she feels herself to have nothing to do on a night like this — nothing but stuff, I mean, of course. Coming up through a trap with her hair down to show that she's an apparition ! " "Has anybody tried that trap lately?" asked Mrs. Watts aloud. "Oh, my soul ! " cried Minnie Fuselle, "Frankie Carzon has been riding up and down on it ever since rehearsal. He'll be there to see her up and to see her down, and to bolt it after her. If they'd make him stage-manager, Thomas Arthur could take one unbroken nap." "They're dangerous things just the same — traps," commented Mrs. Slocum. "I remember in Singapore — Miss Leonard was starring in it then — she and Earlie rode the elephant, and the trap had been used and left unbolted— criminal negligence, 1 call it — and he put his foot on it and his whole leg went through. If the trap had been big enough, he would just have ridden down on it and disappeared, and even that would have looked very odd, but it was only his leg and kind of tipped him, and he slid Earlie and Miss Leonard right over his head! It was awful ! I'm glad you think it's funny, Miss Fuselle. Earlie didn't like it at all ; he was quite put out about it. His nervous system was a complete wreck. And, come to think of it, it wasn't a trap at all, it was just the stage ; the stage hadn't been braced properly for the elephant, and he went through." Minnie Fuselle, forming her curls over her fingers, began to whistle: The animals went in two by two; The elephant and the kangaroo— — "Minnie, Minnie! " Liza called to her. "You'll drive us crazy! " "The child's crazy herself," said Mrs. Watts. "Oh, Mr. Chesney ! " Minnie tragically burlesqued. "Mr. Chesney, like us ! Take us — take us to Broadway. We are really very grand. Or take me, anyhow, Mr. Chesney, whatever you do with the others! " Sympathetic though faltering smiles greeted this sally. People bent closer to their mirrors. Miss La Vere continued to drop mumbled speeches from her lips devoutly, as if they had been pater-nosters. The rooms grew hotter and hotter in the flaring gas, and the tremulous fever in the air increased until the women's nerves were gasping with it. The noises of the extra girls up-stairs, which had been shrilling higher and higher, suddenly clattered out unbearably ; then the ceiling shook. "They are jumping off the chairs, I know they are! " cried Mrs. Watts. Liza Dane rapped on the ceiling with an umbrella, and Earlie, who, having been made-up since seven o'clock, had been helping things along by playing ball in the hall, was brought to a stop by his mother's voice crying tartly, "Earlie ! Earlie, hush up ! " The sudden cessation of the din was almost terrifying; it seemed to bring expectation to a focus, and made one feel pale rather than irritated. Minnie felt an impulse to catch somebody's hand and weep; she began to tie her sash and broke into her incessant whistling, "Give my regards to Broadway, Remember me to Herald Square." "Miss Fuselle," said the mother of Earlie, "I suppose you don't notice that I'm nearest the door; if anybody is whistled out of this room it'll be mc. Perhaps you think it's only a superstition, but Earlie can tell you if it wasn't so in Miss Folsom's company, where I didn't even whistle exactly — for I had seen enough of that years before, when Earlie was a baby, with my own husband whistled right of the company. The property man used to stand and do it right in front of his door every night, and he got laryngitis and took a little too much whiskey in his medicine, and they gave him notice ; they were only too glad, of course, of a chance to reduce expenses, for the man they got in his place got no such salary as Mr. Slocum. But with Miss Folsom that time I began humming the witches' music from Macbeth, which you know is even unluckier than Mignon's song — very likely I oughtn't even to mention it tonight — and the company broke up away out in Slihosa, owing us three weeks' salary, but " "I'm going down to use Miss Harland's pier-glass, Minnie," interrupted the imperturbable Miss La Vere. "( )h, Aggie, 1 wouldn't ! I'd let her alone tonight. It's an awfully ticklish kind of a time for her.'' "O — ver — ture !" came the call, like a thud of dreadful realities. "Heaven help us all!" cried Minnie and subsided. In an instant there sprang forth thrilling through the theatre, drawing all tingling nerves together, calling to arms every trembling spirit, the sweet, threatening, imperious, implacable music of the orchestra. "O — ver — ture!" cried the voice, and, "Overture to what? " responded a hundred hopes. On the other side of the stage the call produced a colliding bang, as of many energies suddenly running together. The "boys" were behindhand in their make-ups. The comedian, who had been sitting half-dressed and tranquil, hearing the juvenile man his lines, flew violently forth and flung himself into his own room, and Robbins, the inevitable borrower of make-up, returned the comedian's powder in some haste. After the tide of idle and friendly swearing that always washed over and through their gossip so irrelevantly that it was like the talk of naughty schoolboys showing off, there was for a brief period something like silence. Then immaculate gentlemen began to emerge, completed, from the scuffle of dressing, and to gather in the room occupied by Brownrigg, Robbins and Frank Carzon. It was known that Browrigg, in defiance of the best theatrical etiquette, kept a bottle of whiskey in his trunk, and though few of the men cared to touch any liquor just before a performance its mere presence made a lode-stone and a friendly bond. But since Brownrigg was hospitable, Bobbins and Ryan took moderate drinks with him ; it was, after all, a night on which one needed something. "Here's to us!" said Ryan. "May Chesney take us, the whole bunch!" They drank with a certain solemnity. Robbins said, "Here's that we all do the best we know ! " Ryan gave an excited laugh. "Here's that we may — 'and we'll see that street in Heaven that is called Broadway"! " From somewhere came the voice of young Mr. Erskine, the juvenile, singing, " 'Oh, mother, mother, mother, pin a rose on me ! ' " A volley of derisive and pleasant profanity was immediately directed at the minstrel and continued thereafter to rattle impartially from the mouths of all upon every subject. Young Mr. Erskine appeared smiling and highly finished in the doorway. "Where's the high hat?" said he. "Get it yourself," said Carzon. "It's in the box in my tray." "You want to have it back here by the last act all right. 1 need it then," said Robbins. You've both of you got your nerve with you, borrowing that boy's hat all the season," Ryan volunteered. The juvenile, polishing the hat with his sleeve, snorted aggrievedlv. "I don't see why. Every last one of you's borrowed it, and every last one of you's borrowed my riding-breeches and Brownie's smoking jacket! I've got through without buying a high hat the whole season, and I'm not going to begin the last night." He stood pouting. "The overture's on still, isn't it?" asked Frank nervously. They paused, listening. "Yes. Good thing it's a long one. I hope Wiley doesn't go so dotty over his presentation speech that he forgets to call the acts. ' "\\ hen's he going to present the cup?" "End of the third act." "I wonder if Fos'll be as overcome by surprise at getting it as he is every year at getting his Christmas present? If ever he once lands us irrevocably on Broadway, the next year we'll give him a real surprise: we won't give him anything." "I hope the cup suits him. Do you put it past him to queer some of us with Chesney if it doesn't?" "Oh, it's all right; Lydia Harland made up the money herself for the one we knew he'd like — the one with the raised mermaids." Brownrigg was screwing the top on his flask, and, his eye lighting suddenly on Frank, he said, "What's the matter with the Carzon kid?" "Well," laughed Ryan, "what is the matter with it?" "W hy, it doesn't speak. Ask it if it's ill? " "I'm scared stiff, that's all," said Frank. "It must be nearly first act. Where's my towel? " "Robbins has it. Have a drink, then; it'll brace you up." "Not now, thanks." "Oh, come on! It'll do you good." "No, really, Brownie, I don't want it." Robbins began to smirk. "Oh, he's promised Miss Lydia ! Didn't you know? He's promised Miss Lydia! " All the men in the room leered. "Well, was he a good boy, then? " crowed Browrigg. "Did always do as he was told? Would never taste the nasty stuff?" He continued to hold out the flask, and Frank, laughing and shaking his head, went over to the washstand. "Get a move on you," said he to Robbins. "I'm on in the first act." Robbins squinted. "Wait a minute, mother's precious! Did Miss Lydia's little boy want to wipe his little hands?"