Variety (December 1914)

30 VARIETY n^ B MID-WINTER NIGHT'S DREAM By Bdmund GilUngham. It was a bitter night. The weather had suddenly turned cold and the snow that had fallen all day in big, soft flakes, now lay on the pavements, an uneven mass of ice. The wind in hur- ricane blasts, swept through Times Square. Rummy Mac withdrew deeper into the doorway of the Longacre Building, as he chattered to himself, "Suffering cats, where can I go?" For half an hour he shivered and shook there, once in a while venturing out to the edge of the entrance, to look with hungry eyes, up and down and across the almost deserted haunt of thespians. "Not a soul, not a single solitary individual soul, that I even know by sight," he muttered. "Holy Mackerel, I can't carry the banner to- night, it would kill anyone to be out in weather like this." Finally as if resolved on some- thing hopeless, he gathered himself and with his hands sunk deep into his trousers pockets, his shoulders humped up to his ears, he painfully started down town. From time to time he growled, "Well, they can't do any more than throw me out." It would hardly seem possible in looking at the unkempt wreck, shuf- fling along, that only five years before, he, Ed McLane, was recognized, not only in New York, but throughout the whole country and Canada, as the most resourceful and skilful property-maker in the theatrical business. His fame as a modeler had even reached London. Nothing seemed too big for him to undertake. His creations were the wonder of the public, and the pride of his employers, as well as the boast of the men who worked with and under him. He had been consulted on such occasions as the Hudson-Fulton Cele- bration, and his handiwork was packed away in storehouses all over the city, after having lived a brief life of splen- dor behind the footlights. He might have peopled a second Ark with the animals he had made, for animals had been his specialty. His salary, too, was large; far beyond the union scale. In his prosperous days, as he passed Raddells or any other rendezvous of stage hands, he would be greeted on all sides affably by his confreres, who ad- mired even if they envied his talents and success. What strange fate had cast her across his path, he wondered, as he continued his peregrinations down Sev- enth avenue. Fool, fool, that he had been to allow himself to become enam- ored of that woman! He might have known she wouldn't be true to him. She herself had said she would not tie herself down to any one man for a king's ransom. Yet he had permitted himself, ordinarily the most practical and intelligent of men to fall head over heels in love with her. Gradually at first, then as his money brought her fine clothes and improved appearance, he became fascinated with her charms, until at last he was her slave. He ne- glected his work that he might be in attendance upon her constantly. From an obscure chorus girl, thanks to his money and knowledge of the business she had blossomed out to be the toast of the lobster palaces. As her vogue increased, so had she grown cold toward him, the stepping-stone to her success. From chilliness, her man- ner toward him had turned to scorn, and the worse she treated him, the more abject he became in his devotion to her. 't he finish of his romance was swift. "The Merry Milkmaid" had ended its long run and he was stand- ing outside the stage door of the "Tem- ple de Folies," waiting in hope she would return to their apartment with him. There with the Johnnies he stood, for his pride could not be humbled so low as to permit any fellow workman tc witness his possible humiliation at her hands. After an interminable wait, she finally appeared. He started for- ward, but without a sign of recogni- tion she swept past him, half intoxicat- Marie Maude HECLOW and DUVALL Two Dainty Singers and Dancers ing him with the scent of the perfume she used and an instant later was greeted by a tall blond man, who as- sisted her into a luxurious limousine. How he reached home and what had transpired since then had been one ugly dream. He had tried to drown his thoughts and had partially succeed- ed, for from that date until the present time he had not drawn a sober breath. So well known and so popular was he, that it took him longer than ft does the average man to reach the gutter. But he was there now, he thought, and no mistake. Not a sou, not a pica- yune had he, and if none of the many places, where he had spent his time and money would shelter him; to the settlement lodging house for his, and tomorrow he would beg enough to get enough)dope to make him forget for- ever and for all time. As he reached this decision, he turned west into one of the cross streets, near the Pennsylvania Sta- tion. "I'll tackle Cowslip Murphy first," he thought, "he'll give me a drink any- way, I haven't been near him for over two weeks and he's not so hard as some. H When he reached Eighth avenue he paused. Cowslip was peculiar. If he was in good humor, well and good, but if not, nix on anything. He entered the corner saloon; Cowslip, so called from his round and benign counte- nance, as well as from his well groomed and sleek appearance, was on duty. He took one look at the poor shivering wretch before him, and then silently and without a change of expression, placed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the bar. As MacLane with shaking hand poured himself a drink that almost tilled the glass, Murphy said, reaching for the bottle, in the most bland man- ner possible, "Now that'll be about all, we don't supply towels here, for you to take a bath, so drink that and be on your merry way." With tears in his eyes from his libation, the remnant tried to sputter his thanks. Cowslip wiping the bar interrupted. In a mo- ment Mac was on the street. Ninth avenue next, a little further up town; but at the first place on the thoroughfare, which he entered, a wet bar rag hit him full in the face, before he had got half way across the floor. Realizing if he tarried, worse treat- ment would be meted out to him; he stood not on the order of his going, but sought the street as fast as his habitually dazed condition would allow him. A minute or so he stood, deciding which way to go, and then slowly and painfully continued westward. At Tenth avenue he turned up town for a block or two, and then with falter- ing steps entered another groggery. The place was filled with a crowd of rough characters and evidently some- one had plenty of money, for they were most of them half seas over. As Mac closed the door, a yell went up ot "Rummy Mac, now we'll have some fun." A thick set, burly fellow approached him; "Have a drink Mac," he cried, laying a heavy hand on Ed's shoulder. Mac signified assent by a nod, and the big fellow ordered "a drink of booze tor our actor friend here." Mac had scarcely finished his potation, when a murmur arose, "A song, give us a song. Do a stunt, Rummy! Hey, do that imitation of Warfield," and various similar requests. MacLane turned his glassy eyes upon the crowd, he made one or two efforts to sing and then gave it up. "Boys," he said, "I'm all in, I'd like to oblige you, but I haven't the strength to do it tonight." The big drunken tough, in an ugly mood, put his hand under Mac's chin and turning his face around, said, in a hoarse whis- per, "Now you'll do something for that drink, or out you go, and out you go quick." The poor wreck put up his hands and^stazte^ie^plead, then some- thing hit him and the next he knew, he was lying on the sidewalk, the blood was streaming from his nose, and a gash in his lip. Slowly and with keen distress he re- gained his feet. For several minutes he stood there, while he tried- to col- lect his thoughts. A convulsive shiver shook him, and he muttered, "Oh, Hell, it might as well be tonight as tomorrow, and drowning, they say is a painless death." Once more he com- menced trudging wearily along. At 38th street he turned west. Now on West 38th street, between Tenth and Eleventh avenues, a num- ber of theatrical firms have their store- houses. One of the largest in the city is in the upper floors of Abie's Trans- fer Company's building. Just as Rummy Mac, his head almost buried between his shoulders, reached the main entrance of the Transfer Company's edifice, the door was rolled back and a double team that had been waiting at the curb, harnessed to a big ♦ruck, started to enter. The horses were almost on top of him before the driver saw him. With a yell, he pulled the heavy team back on their haunches and swore volubly. Mac looked up, and the driver recog- nized him. "For the love of Mike, Mac, what are you doing? Wait till I drive in and I'll be out and talk to you." The team with the big truck was swallowed up in the darkness of the stable, while Mac stood and shivered. In a few minutes the driver returned. "Now, what is it Mac—you haven't got down to carrying the banner, have you? My God, and to think what you were!" MacLane heard him in silence, and nodded his head affirmatively. "Too bad, too bad, and you couldn't have come a worse night. I haven't a cent, or the watchman, either. Well, we can't let you stay out a night like this. God, you'd freeze to death! I'll see if I can't soften Jimmys heart and get him to let you bunk inside, for the night anyhow." Saying which, the good fellow took poor Mac's arm, for the wretched be- ing was swaying as if about to fall, and led him inside. As they mounted the incline, the watchman came forward with his lantern, and Mac's companion addressed him. "Say, Jerry, you remember Mac, MacLane? Now for the love of Mike, take a chance for once in this case and let him stay here out of the cold." "The watchman hesitated; but ob- serving the blood on Mac's face and shirt, said, "What, did you get beat up, too? Well, I will take a chance, but it I'm caught, good night to me and my job. Here, wash the blood off of your face, while I get a blanket." Mac went to a sink in the rear and removed the traces of his recent maul- ing. The driver said, "Good night," and departed and by the time the watchman had returned, carrying a large horse blanket, the derelict's face was cleaner than it had been in several days. Only his nose and lips were puffed. "Now see here," said Jerry, "you take this and go up stairs and hide yourself away wid the boxes and crates on the third floor, and I will call you in the mornin'." Mac took the heavy blanket, and slowly with trembling steps, climbed the stairs, flight after flight, until thor- oughly winded- he finally reached the floor designated by the watchman. All round him were stacked boxes and crates of all sizes and shapes. Feel- ing his way in the semi-darkness, he found at last a box resembling in its* contour a large coffin. However, it just answered the purpose and so ar- (Continued on page 31.)