Variety (December 1907)

14 VARIETY - "THE TALK OF NEW YORK." Some one who saw "45 Minutes from Broadway," also written by Geo. M. Cohan, said "The Talk of New York," the latest Cohan piece to appear in New York- City, where i* is now playing at the Knickerbocker Theatre, is a sequel to the first named. New Rochelle is often mentioned in "The Talk of New York." The fourth act is laid in that "tank," and one would imag- ine Mr. Cohan had some property there he wanted to dispose of from the manner in which the town is "boosted." The fourth act is the last act, and may have been not at all for the purpose or aid of the show. It is just nothing, and comes as a disappointing finale to a musical semi-melodrama, which promised some- thing when Mr. Cohan had a young man shoot a young woman in the back for the "big scene." It afterwards developed that the girl was not shot in the back at all, but in the arm. It was all the same. There are a great many unexplained happenings in the performance, which the audience must either discover or guess for itself. Mr. Cohan seem* to write his long plays like a writer of a short story. He leaves a great deal to the imagination. For in- stance, when Kid Burns (Victor Moore) told Grace Palmer (Nella Bergen) he knew her four years before under the name of "Williams," Gracie didn't deny it, but told Mr. Burns to forget all about it. The whole house was just dying to know what "The Kid" "had on" Gracie, but never through the play was it di- vulged. Perhaps Mr. Cohan thinks it too commonplace to be explicit in these de- tails which excite the curiosity of the pub- lic. Again, when Miss Palmer "trims" Mr. Burns for a "$50,000 'certified' check," he passes it over without a murmur, but never during the evening does it become known how much money Kid Burns is worth. The dialogue imparts the informa- tion that he "ran a twenty-case note into a pile," and let it go at that. At the Knickerbocker a "pile" may be some mil- lions, and Mr. Cohan shouldn't forget the box office there charges $2 to the orches- tra, even for his show. Kid Burns is a slangy fellow. In New Rochelle he's the big thing, but why or for why isn't told. In New York City Burns is a "plunger" at the race track, having been originally a "piker," but "ran a twenty-case note into a pile," as pre- viously noted. In the process of accumulating the book-makers' ready cash, Mr. Burns achieved much notoriety and the friend- ship of Dudley Wilcox (Stanley H. Forde), an undisputed millionaire, with a pen- chant for wearing a boy's straw hat and appearing like the understudy for a "heavy legit." Mr. Wilcox likes "the Kid," calling him "Burnsey," and the Kid likes Wilcox so fervently he insists upon addressing him as " 'Mr.' Wilcox." Joe Wilcox, the son (Jack Gardner), has a deep hatred for Burns. Joe doesn't think "Burnsey" is on the level; he says so, and further said "The Kid" knew too much about the horses to be gathering in the shekels on pure knowledge alone. This opinion is shared by Miss Palmer, for Mr. Cohan has framed it up so that Joe and Grace are in love with each other, while "The Kid" and Geraldine Wilcox (Sadie Harris) are going to be. It's almost cer- tain the last two are by this time. It was practically settled when the curtain fell on that quiet amateurish finale. "Gerry" had just induced Burns to forego the European trip he contemplated, the plunger having given up the turf to re- lieve "Mr. Wilcox" from any further em- barrassment. Beside the father, the daughter is the only one in "our set" who can "see" Burns. Mrs- Wilcox (Lorena Atwood) threatens to call everything off if Dudley doesn't break with his race track ac- quaintance, but Dud is there with the re-par-tay, and he says "There's only one pair of trousers in our family, and they fit me." There is a great deal of slang in the play, all handled by "Kid Burns. Mr. Cohan has left the beaten paths in this division and coined some new expressions of his own, excepting that of "either" and "Ida," the property of a Hebrew comedian in a quartet now playing vaudeville dates. The talk brings plenty of laughter. A line which seemed to be appreciated was when Kid Burns, shown the announcement of his engagement in flaring headlines of an evening paper, remarked: "That's the last time 111 ever tell a bartender any- thing." After Joe becomes engaged to Grace, and "The Kid" tells the father a few things, the match is broken off by the girl accepting an offer of a "considera- tion" to go to Europe. Accused of falsity by Joe, she insinuates against his sister, mentioning Mr. Burns, and as she walks away Joe draws a pistol, shooting her in the back, but he shot her in the arm, al- though she was walking away from him. It was a dandy shot, though, anyway you look at it, for it brought "The Kid" on the spot. Grabbing the revolver from Joe's hands, he says: "Beat it, Kid," and then the os- tracized youth tells the officers "I did it," producing the gun in proof. W r ell, of course, what could the mother say after she heard about how the de- spised "Kid Burns" saved her son? She "fell" for "The Kid"; so did the son, and it will come out all right if "The Kid" marries the daughter. There's even a third love story strung through the piece. Joe Smith Marba as Freddie Stevens is in love with Isabelle McFadden (Emma Littlefield), whose father, Martin McFadden (John Conroy), is a deadly customer for every liquor place he meets. After Freddie "touches" "the Kid" for a letter, for which he might have received ten years or so had "the Kid" been near as "fly" as Mr. Cohan intended, and the work of Miss Littlefield as a soubrette, an ingenue or a combination of both, their love affair didn't matter. When they married no one cared; it was about an even break. To sum up Moore's performance is to cite from a woman who said "Who is this Victor Moore? I never heard of him be- fore. There's something fascinating about him." Moore interprets his role to a nicety; doesn't abuse his auditor's sense of hearing by trying to sing, but goes through finely with each song, and is the same "hick" in the total as made known by him in "Change Your Act" in vaude- ville, where Miss Littlefield was his partner. NEW 8 BELLS. To the jungle with "The New 8 Bells." Time was when this famous trade-mark represented a really interesting entertain- ment, a sort of cross between a spectacu- lar pantomime and a miniature circus, but this year's offering differs from the old show widely. It is made up of a collection of ex- tremely poor talking comedians, frousy costumes, worn-out scenery and a few spe- cialties. As long as the men keep to knockabout comedy they fare well enough, but when they begin to talk it's all off The others spoke their lines with about as much expression as a lot of mechanical dolls. They seemed to think they knew their parts so well from long playing there was no necessity for pains. This scheme of letting the parts play them- selves didn't work out very well. The audience was quick to feel that it was being slighted, and except for a few scenes Jack Gardner is also an ex-vaudevillian, and next to Mr. Moore, quite the best in the show. Mr. Gardner at one time was of Warren and Gardner, a vaudeville act, since changed to Warren and Blanchard. He sings very well, and plays well. A "smooth" Irishman was always John Conroy's part. He did the same when of Conroy and Mack, and he is doing it now. Mr. Forde has a bass voice which he uses to the utmost in the singing, and Sadie Harris has a somewhat far-fetched opinion of a millionaire's daughter. Per- haps Sadie never had actual experience, but she gave an excellent impersonation of a "demure country maiden" in a "ten- twent-thirt" melodrama. Miss Bergen seems to be the disappoint- ment of the cast. She is liked better as the adventuress than as the singer, and you can not overcome the wonderment of "how thin she is." There are lots of clothes, but a poor quality of girls to fill them. A lively young person on the end of the line is about the only girl in the bunch to attract at- tention, either through looks or action. It is probably due to the richness of the wearing apparel. They don't feel at home, and they look it. There are several male choristers also. If there is anything impossible on earth, it's a chorusman, and when one thinks well enough of himself to "make eyes" at the audience, he ought to be suppressed. Mr. Cohan should sit out front some eve- ning and watch his chorus men. He might borrow Joe Wilcox's revolver for ready use while doing it. The music of "The Talk of New York" is pleasing, and has a lively swing all the way. A rather clever "patriotic" song has been written by Mr. Cohan; something about "it makes no difference what flag you're under if the money's there," wind- ing up with the "American," of course. For "beating" the patriotic fad without losing the effect, Mr. Cohan deserves a big mark. There are two things against "The Talk of New York"—the $2 admission at the Knickerbocker and the last act. At a theatre where the masses would not run into speculators, "The Talk of New York" would be good for a solid hit and long run. Sime. and specialties the show at the Four- teenth Street Theatre last week got a cool reception. The "elopement" scene with the ridicul- ous "prop" horse and coach aroused a cer- tain degree of interest at the end of the first act. and the mechanical ship, of course, was amusing, chiefly because the comedians were compelled to make their funniments in pantomime. This should never be, for the life of the piece depends upon the enthusiasm of the players and nothing could so effectualy kill it as this listlessness. There are five women In the cast, and they fail com- pletely to give the stage the touch of vivacity and brightness which is so sore- ly needed. They are carelessly dressed, and even more languid than the men. Never a dance did they dance, and the simple expedient of introducing a song when the action lagged was not taken ad- vantage of. Grace Wolvin was the only female prin- cipal, the other four being a sort of mute chorus, carried along apparently for stage dressing purposes, although Rose Wash- burn contributed a singing specialty be- tween acts. Miss Wolvin has quite the most curious method of delivering her lines ever heard. She half sings them, and one is under the impression she talks by note. She wore one fairly good look- ing frock of black velvet in the third act. That was her best service to the produc- tion. Her comedy fell down awfully. Miss Washburn's specialty filled in one of the most agreeable portions of the evening. She is billed as a "prima donna contralto," whatever that may be, but really she is an untrained female baritone, with a full, rich voice of large volume. She could sing "coon" songs to the queen's taste if she only knew how to carry herself easily and present a good stage appearance. She needs instruction in this particularly. Miss Washburn has absolutely no command of gesture, and when she attempted to move her antics were ridiculously amateurish. But her voice has a peculiarly charming quality of natural richness and singularly free from affectation in delivery. With proper in- struction in how to handle herself before the footlights, she would do nicely. An unannounced quick sketch artist was introduced during the action of the second act. His chalk drawings on the black background did nicely enough, but the color work took rather too long to do and became tiresome, although the fin- ished drawing was striking. The artist kept up a running fire of very old stories while he worked, but he disarmed criti- cism in a preliminary announcement in which he admitted that his jokes were passe. The scheme of drawing in typical figures seated along one side of a trolley car is a good one, and if the comedian could only work out a connected line of patter to go with the progress of the work, he would have a fairly entertaining number. He has a fairly good stage bear- ing, but the present talk is wretchedly put together and quite as badly delivered. Schrock and Rice (New Acts) gave a trick bicycle riding specialty during the last act. The present equipment seems to have been chosen with an eye to economy and with a view to playing in the wilds. It requires better entertainment than this to attract attention in the Metropolis. Ruth.