The Billboard 1909-07-10: Vol 21 Iss 28 (1909-07-10)

wants esdecese ~ 44406044, eX Ls eee) Volume XXI. No. 28. Nobody ever thought “Little Johnny” Doud would amount to much. The neighbors often spoke condolingly to his widowed mother, who found it so hard to comfortably clothe and feed the three orphaned children, of which Johnny was the eldest. She, in turn, exhausted her rather vehement vocabulary in her efforts to make Johnny understand that fishing in the river and reading cheap novels in the park during the summer, or behind the stove, on which her wash boiler hissed and sputtered, during the winter months, was neither the right nor the proper thing for a boy of fourteen, who was well and strong of body to do. little, if any, attention to her reproaches, until one day, in a spirit of determination, brought about by her constant nagging, he actually did apply for a position at the local messenger office and, as the manager explained to him, he was given a position, not because he appeared particularly suited to that or any other position, but because they were short of boys and they needed him. Johnny was an ideal messenger, inasmuch as he could consume more time in delivering a message in the adjoning block than any of his asso-| ciates or colleagues. Here he was afforded all the time he wanted to read} hair-raising stories of the West or of the underworld, and to tell them, with} much garnishment, to the other boys who sat beside him on the little bench | awaiting for calls or commissions. At last Johnny’s ambition took another flight, bravado, he asked a theatre manager for a place Here he received no salary, but this fact was of no consequence to Johnny, | who was looking particularly to the prerogative of seeing the plays he} loved, without having to deposit the small fee at the box office. But Johnny paid and, in a moment of! as usher in his house. But the theatre was Johnny Doud’s making. His imagination was | fostered and fed. In the telegraph office, and at home, during his few hours} away from the scenes of his daily and nightly “toil,"” he dreamed of the time when he would be a great actor, and the people would come in dress clothes and automobiles, paying their good money to see him play Hamlet, | by the ears. Prodigal offspring. But Johnny's aspirations were of the genuine He applied himself assiduously to the reading of good literature. He even sought a more lucrative position than the telegraph office afforded, and became a model employe, who was never unwilling to perform his full duty, no matter what’ the mumber of hours necessary best results. All the While he was studying—studying. A few weeks ago one Mr. John P. Doud was presented principal London theatres in a play written especially for England's most famous and successful playwrights. and happy-looking old lady, who rustles around in silks because she to hear them rustle, crossed the Atlantic to see the premiere of the play. \nd the neighbors all say they always knew there was the making of a Great man in that Doud boy. kind. at one of the him by Every one who is on speaking terms, or ever has been, with Eddie Foy, has heard innumerable anecdotes regarding the various little Foys, who, to the father’s loving eye, are the most remarkably precocious lot of youngsters that ever happened. One of Foy’s latest has to do with a pet rabbit, which was given to his second youngest son by a friendly neighbor. Now, this boy of the age where he has just completed his first year in the local schools, and his father was somewhat surprised to go out into the back yard of their home the other day and find the lad shaking the pet rabbit vigorously, and saying: “Two and two, is darn ye; two and two: two and two.” _ “Why, what do you mean, shaking that poor little beast like that, Willie?” asked Foy. The boy looked up at him with a George-Washington-and-the-cherry‘ree expression in his eyes, and replied “Well, teacher said that rabbits multiplied so fast, but this darned ‘ttle dummy can't even add.” Jerry J. Cohan was standing by the Times Square entrance of the New ork Subway, listlessly watching the passing throngs, when he was approached by an individual who was much the worse. for drink “Say, Bo.,” said the inebriate, “give me the price of a meal won't you, hic. ‘aven't had a bite to eat since day before yesterday—or, was it the week “fore last?) Anyhow, I'm hungry, hic.” “Are you more hungry, or thirsty?” asked Cohan, nothing loath to make little conversation, even with a drunken man, for he had been feeling ee hat lonely, as the passing crowds had revealed searcely a familiar face. “No, Im' not thirsty,” replied the drunk, “just hungry—hungrier than ll, you know what the alliterative word would be And, I'm tired, too een per day to accomplish the} | replying, without a sign of a smile, ‘““‘Well, Marthy, ye must o’ growed some.” ia “tank” town on their route, and find it impossible to secure hotel accomj}and Mrs. | . ; | i states Fs y é King Lear, Othello, or some modern masterpiece that would set the audience child states that they chanced to get And still his mother continued to “take in’ washing, and to rail at her| la |rooms for the night, one of | The mother, now a fine} likes | | locked until time to go to bed.” Gh. “a * e'-ja 4 « > hy a Sy 6 . 4 ma Alc O = rca 7 e rt : f ‘ Been walking all day and all night, but it never seems like night on this here thoroughfare. I like to get up early in the morning and walk, walk, walk, till I bump up against a fine, venerable old gentleman like you, who is willing to hand me the price of a dr ameal, I mean. Yes, of course, a meal.” “I think you have had all the meals you need to-day,” laughed Jerry, 7 “especially in the way of liquid refreshment.” 1 “Then, you're not going to help me to some suds?” returned the other. “Oh, well; it’s what might be expected in this land of the spree and the home ' of the slave. G'wan, you're a piker.” And he staggered off down the street. s ; EE oes x, Sao = re | Raymond Hitchcock tells a lot of funny stories about an old couple he used to board with while he was teaching a country school up in New Hampshire, during the early days of his career, and even before he discovered that he had dramatic talent, which was afterward laid aside for musical comedy. The old woman was a chronic invalid, in her own imagination, though Hitchcock avers she had nothing in the world the matter with her. At each meal, the school teacher and her husband were entertained with accounts of her sufferings, and all attempts to turn the conversation into different channels were unavailing. One morning the three sat down to the breakfast table, and the old lady began: “Si,” addressing herself to her husband, as was almost invariably her custom, “I had a pain in a new place last nght.”’ The old farmer munched away at his food for some moments before It's quite a serious proposition for a theatrical company to arrive at modations, isn’t it? Well, that’s what happened to Mr. Frank Fairchilds, now in during their tour of the recently. Mr. Fair Seg We vaudeville, Western states, in a small town in Nebraska, and, to their utter disappointment, found that the only hotel was crowded to its utmost capacity. Of course, it was then ease of hustle around to secure but fortune favored Mr. Fairchild and his co-searcher, and they were given a room at the home of the village postmaster. Having been promised a room the following day by the hotel proprietor, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild journeyed to the hostelry the following morning to see if all arrangements were completed before they removed their belongings from the postmaster’s home. Having received answer in the affirmative, they returned to the P. M.’s home, and asked for that dignitary. ae “This is no place for loungin’ round in the daytime,”’ he said, in answer is" to Mr. Fairchild’s request for the key to the room. ‘We keep the door Mr. Fairchilds finally persuaded the old man to allow him to get his grips, but the P. M. thought it was necessary te provide Fairchilds with an escort, and sent for his wife, to act in that capacity. Having packed all the belongings. the disgusted vaudevillians wended f their way to the hotel, but again, here, another problem confronted them. The room was too small. Then it was hustle again to get another room. Coming up the street, Fairchilds observed a woman running at a pace that would put a Marathon runner to shame. A friend yelled after her, inquiring the cause of her hurry. “Oh, my goodness!” she expostulated, “I am going home to lock my house. The show’ | ; s in town! Mr. Fairchilds calls it Cressy and Dayne Town Hall To-night in Reality. of conversation for the performers theatres before the matinee, recently, Everybody but Laporte seemed Late inventions formed the topic and attaches of one of the Cincinnati and the conversation drifted to airships. anxious to experience a sail in the air. “I shouldn’t think you would mind it,” said Wilson, of the team of Howard and Wilson, ‘because you are used to aerial work.” “Well, I'll tell you of a little experience I had,” began Laporte, “my partner and I were filling an engagement at Luna Park, Coney Island, last summer, and our trapeze was about five hundred feet above the ground. My partner was on the bar about six feet above me, and was about to lower the rope that I should fasten to my bar so he might come down to me. A rope passed my head and I grabbed it, only to be pulled off my perch and carried off through the air. I held on for dear life, when, presently, I heard a woman's voice, bidding me keep cool. It all came to me in a flash that the lady balloonist of a nearby attraction had passed our trapeze and I had grabbed a rope that hung over the car. Well, the balloon came down MM to earth in about fifteen minutes and I received no injuries, but that was ; enough air traveling for me.” ie Miss Lillian Esterbrook, snake charmer, was on the bill with Mr. fat 4 Leporte, and she will vouch for the truth of the incident.