Evening Star Newspaper, September 18, 1921, Page 65

. ¥ mer. y Tubber heels. WASHINGTON D, C SEPTE BER 18, 19"1 PART 4 = ‘How Inez Called the Turn — By Sewell Ford THE RAMBLER WRITES OF OLD MINSTRELS AND ACTRESSES WHO PLAYED IN “MAZEPPA” OU know how it is when you've had a lucky break it iU's only something you've pulled accidental, like win- ning out in a rafe, or being pro- moted at the office because somebody | quit sudden. Whether you deserve it or not, the fact remains that you've landed. and you can't help feeling a! little puffy in the chest. But the big | ~10ment comes when you spring it on | _ae folks at home. That js, it should. 'So when 1 acrolled back to the apartment after ! iaving been picked by Ames Hunt 10 play the Flapper part in Barry new play, I expect 1 was wearing my chin high and stepping: firm on my Of course, the only ones I could reckon as home. folks were Uncle Nels and Inez. them in_that role was stretching it a bit, I don’t deny, but when you're a runaway double orphan yoy can't be choosey about such things. So [ tried to break it to 'em as modest as I knew. how. Inez was “Hey the first to says she. talk actress, a glim- ou mean on the you gonma be stage?” . Not that T was crazy about her way of distinguishing a movie per- son from a real actress, but I nodded enthusiastic. “Huh!" says Tnez “You!" “Why so flattering?” says I. T don't wonder at the tone, That's a good deal the w about it myself at first. Who would have thought. hardly a year ago. when we were juggling ice cream or- ders and soft drinks on Superior street, Duluth. that 1 would ever make a broad jump like this? part, too." For one thoughtful moment Inez re. laxes her rhythmic assault on chewing gum and lets her calm gray eyes rest on me curiou get your name printed “Absolutely.” says I boards outside, probably, “But Inez. 1 felt anyway on the programs and ia the newspapers; and if the thing makes a hit later on and we move uptown, maybe you'll see Trilby May Dodge spelled out in Lelectric lights. How about that?* * x % BIT Tnez hasn't such a frisky imagination. She simply gawps and shakes her head. *“I gotta see it first,” says she. - ‘Which gives Uncle Nels a chance to come in. “You don’t get paid for doin’ that play actin'?" he asks. “Real money,” says 1. “More than ! T ever dreamed T'd be getting a week.” He wags his gray head and sauints at me from his shrewd eyes. fools ain’t dead yet. ¢h?” says he. “No,” says I, “and some haven't dlscovered what beanless old pests | they are, either. This doesn't register with Uncle| Nels at all, for he just blinks satisfied and goes on pruning his nails with the young toolshop he carries moored to his right forward suspender by a steel chain. It's one of the tall timber tricks T've tried to break him of. ‘without any success. I had already Dointed out to Inez that nail trim- ming wasn't a parlor pastime prac- ticed in the best circles, but I couldn’t get her to'drop a hint to the old boy. “If he don’t, he whittle,” Inez had said. “Likes to show off his knife.” It was more than a knife. as a matter of fact. It was a whole car- penter’s outfit—sixteen blades, 1 be- lieve, including a saw, a screw driver, a gimlet and I don’t know what else. Given that weapon and a set of plans, any handy man could well build a house. or dig.a well, or scuttle a bat- tleship. It had a pearl handle and | a ring in one end, and must have | weighed a couple of pounds. Uncle Nels had seen it in a store window, gone back to view: it-for three days in succession before he dared price it. and at the end of the week had worked up enough couragé to buy it. T'11 bet it hurt, at that, for when it comes to little things, such as spend- ing real money for ut or a new necktié, he’s as hard Ted as a picnic egg. - Yet he’ll- write a fifteen hundred dollar check for a month's rent for this de luxe apartment with- out batting an eyelash. Odd old codger. But when Annette—the Montreal French maid who has been induced to Join our entourage and do Inez's hair Even | Counting_on | And in a star | the | “Lotta | [ i ! i | 1 WHILE INEZ BEGAN BY ORDERIN ordering her about rather brisk, she's coming to be more like a new puDll who's afraid of the teacher. * % ¥ % T first Annette looked to me. T blush to say, with a good deal of scorn. She had me framed for a poor relation who might or might not be paying her board. But when she caught the news that 1 was about to become an actress all was changed. Annette began to smile on me, offered to do my hair, and secretly tempted me with one of her own cork tipped cigarettes. “Mees Trilby will have coffee and in bed, yes?” she asked. one of ‘that 10 a.m. boudoir da | Jorney stuft for me,” says I “Thanks all the same, Annette, but I've got to get something more over the foot- lights than just my ankles and a few vampish hip motions. Mine is.a regu- lar job and I'm none too sure I can get away with it. So.it's me for an early fall from the feathers.” And honest, I went into training like I was due to meet a world champ. the ring. Uh-huh. By the time the sun was lighting up the top of St. Patrick’s spires 1 was starting my half-way setting-up exercises that I was learning.out of a book. Then fifteen minutes of breathing stunts, cold shower, and I was ready for two or three soft-boiled eggs and toast with hot water and milk on the side. After that 1 did a brisk mile or so E ,lo,go over my she picks herself as the one. [ find her yawning over her bacon and eggs at 10:30. Annette seehs to fall in with the scheme, too, for she's none too fond of leaving early herself. fully as useful as gilding the lily. Then she suggests new things for Inez to buy, and charge to Uncle Nels —zippy afternoon costumes, with hats to match, and a spangled dinner frock. I'm just waiting to hear the old boy groan when the bills come in. * * k% BY T Inez certainly is blooming out, for although Annette may have been born in Prairie la Chine, south of Montreal, 1s real Frenchy. by shops that have the smartest things, and the cost of ;them means nothing | at all in her young life. It has been rather interesting to watch the trans- formation. “You may not have joined the Fol- lles yet, Inez” says I “but you look the part. Swell, en?" says Inez, showing her dimples. “In spots; ¥ She seems to know says I, and retired ines in “The Prince and the Flapper.” We had been rehearsing for a week when 1 accepted the hints Inez had been throwing out for an invitation and keep her hooked up in the back— 'through Central Park, wishing I could | to go along with me some afternoon. when Annette caught sight of L'm:le Nels doing his pruning act she shiv- ered, clear from her high heels to her ulder blades. et ées mot nice, za ‘Hey?” says Inez. «For river drivers, yes’ goes on Annette, “but for gentlemens—bas non! I will do heem manicure.” She got as far as soaking one hand in warm soapsuds and started to re- veal the half moons when Uncle Nels, who had gone red in the ears, broke away. “Tam foolishness!” he de- clared, and although Inez backed up Annette \gtrong, and’ I added a word here and there, the three of us have had to give up. - She's proving 4 great help in many ways, though, Annette. She:has re- formed Inez from doing her wheat- colored hair in a double braid and winding it around her head as if she was preparing to balance a basket of fish on it. Also she restrains her from getting on some of the vivid color combinations she’s so fond of, and she has nearly broken her from taking a Babe Ruth grip on her fork when she tackles steak. Other lmla szat!” says she. afford a saddle horse and a sporty riding suit, and by 8 o'clock I was back in my roem getting letter per- fect in my lines and working up new business. = Then, after two or three hours’ rehearsing at the theater, all I was fit for was a session on the day- bed and maybe a . snooze before I dressed for dinner. “They make you do all that?” asks ines. . “No, I make myself do it,” says L *That's the silly part.” “If—if I was talk actress,” goes on “I'd take it easy—<have lotta 2 ut I'm not ‘elected yet,” says I. “All I've got so far is the nomination. So excuse me if I leem to bustle around.” Ines, though, has a m|nd that's a good deal like a rubber stamp. She's strong for the conventions and tra- divions. Her notion of ‘any ome who's on the stage is that they must trip Jauntily along the primrose path, us- ing _the powder puff and lip stick lib- eral they go. And ‘somehow: she collects the bl'fllhnl idea that, hav- Ing an actress in the family, it's up FOR ONE THOUGHTFUL MOMENT INEZ RELAXES HER RHYTHMIC ASSAULT ON THE CHEWING GUM AND LETS HER CALM GRAY EYES REST ON ME CURIOUS. So she gets up later and later, until | the hay | Also she takes to im- | proving Inez's color scheme, which is her taste in dress goods instinct where to find the little s | through the regulation motions. And | but improvised 1 | HER ABOUT RATHER BRISK, SHE'S COMING TO BE MORE LIKE A NEW PUPIL WHO'S AFRAID OF THE TEACHER. . props—a _bare pine | | table with two kitchen chairs for a | scene on the terrace of a Swiss hotel, { a spring water bottle with an old feather duster stuck in it for table decoration, and s0 o Then, in place of Hadley Hall's stunning sef showing the distant Alps and suggesting the deep valleys between, there was only the ugly brick back wall of the the- ater, smeared over with scene shift-i ers’ ‘initials and “No Smoking” signs. But for the first time we were playmg | at_some one, trying to get the lines across, and it seemed as though we were actually doing it. That is, until I felt sure enough of myself to take'a glimpse at Inez. I'd been rather dreading to make the test, but at the finixh of a little scene where we had swapped some of Barry's clever repartee, 1 turned my head and peered out at her. Bing! 1t was just like running up a window shade to get the view and flndlng] that somebody had closed the iron sputters. No more trace of interest than as if she'd been at a crossing watching a freight train go by. Not the trace of a smile, no expression of any kind. She was simply cheflns‘ her gum, undisturbed and placid. * ok ok % UT there were even better lines coming, and the situation was in- tended to be a funny one. Not a scream, perhaps, but decidedly hu- morous. 1 waited and tried harder than before. Then 1 took another peek. Nothing doing. Inez chewed on, just as animated as though she'd been given the wrong connection and was waiting for central to discover that she was still there. 1 expect 1 started bifing my upper lip about then, but I wasn't beaten. We had worked up a neat little bit of business that was due in a minute or so, so 1 boomed along. It was where the prince tries to do a little sly finger squeezing, holding out his 1 I 1 | smashing had hit Inez full on the hand for me to take while he's talking to Mum-mah, and 1 slip my glove into | his palm. Not having any glove, I} grabbed the water bottle off the lnl)le‘ and shoved that into his hand. And as he had his head turned the other way, Sczernoff was naturally a bit surprised. He's a fidgety, quick-tem- pered person, too, when he’s working. He gave one disgusted glance at the bottle and threw it peevish on the floor. Of course, there was a fine crash. “I'm sorry,” says I. “I didn't mean o ! And then there comes this hearty ‘hee-haw!” from out front which nearly breaks up the show. I knew what had happened. The bottle funny-bone. At last her sense of humor had been reached. For no one clse that I ever met can express their mirth quite so explosively or 5o un- expected. It's mightly seldom. also, that Inez lets go of a real laugh. In all the years I've known her I don't suppose T've heard her cut loose with a genuine hee-haw more than half a dogzen times. Once I remember was up in_Coleraine when some refined joker loaded a Montenegrin ore han- dler's pipe with a pinch of dynamite, and another happy incident that got a rise: out of Inez was one sleety day in Duluth when she saw a coal truck skid_through a show window into a display of china and glassware. Any- thing less than -that merely got a chuckle or a smile. So I was sure this must be Inez. Yes, I could see her shoulders still heaving with joy. But the prince had had his dignity punctured. “If you don't mind, Miss Dodge.” he protests, “I'd rather you | wouldn’t do that again. l Which iz where Ames Hunt breaks “By all means,” says he. “Leave that bit in. There'll be.a glass vase on the table, eh? Corking! And be sure to slam’ it down hard, Sczernoff. Make a good smash of it. Very clever in. ———————————— | of You, Miss Dodge.” [ld been stalling off Barry Platt for the same length of time, making him promise to keep away until the piece finally, after getting an O. K. from Ames Hunt, 1 told 'em they might horn in on an afternoon workout. ‘Bully!” says Barry. ‘“Not that I doubt you're doing it well. but I'm me.” “Oh, you'll be easy to please,” says I aturally. They'reé your lines. But I'm curious to” know how the piece will hit Inez. If I can get it over to.her——" “Oh, you're bound to,” says Barry. I thought so myself. In fact, I fig- ured on giving Ipez quite a grand little surprise; for, if you remember, she'd been rather cold to the play when she’d heard Barry read it over; and I don't think she'd taken very seriously my first stab as an actress. As long as I didn’t behave like one off stage she seemed .to believe I wasn’t the real thing.. Then again, there was her notion that nothing but movie acting really counted, anyway. I meant to. show her that she was Wwrong. whispered to Barry to tow her to a certain spot out front under a sky- light, where I could watch her as the rehearsal went on. Besides word had been passed around the gent with Mr. Hunt was a scout sent down by might make an offer later on if the report was favorable. And I must say that we got it mov- ing as_it had never -moved before. I know I was putting all the pep.I had into the part, and Scnersoff. who does the Prince, was playing up strong. oo, " And while Inez began by | to one member of the sketch:to go' Of course, we weren't using-anything anxious to see just how it will strike | ahot 10 expect fiom Barry. So when we got to the theater I|talk,” says she. that, | was it good talk, or otherwise.” an uptown manager who |'all the time,” says I. Maybe it was low-brow stuff, but Ames Hunt knows his job. Anyway, from then on we had Inez sitting on the edge of her chalr with her gum Wwas going somewhere near right. But|gtowed to leeward. True, she failed to voice any more loud merriment, but she was with us to the last line. 1 was feeling rather pleased with myself as I joined Incz and Barry down in the fifth row. I knew about I could see it flickering in his eyes as he pulled me down into a ‘chair beside him and patted me on the shoulder. He put it quite nicely, too, without getting very personal or mushy. “Thanks, old dear,” says L you're a rotten critic, you know. Then I turned to Inez. “Well?” says I “Funny gink, that pflnce"‘ says she, dodging the point. - “You mean he's lore[zn looking?” says I “Most princes are. They're born that way, and can't help it. He's a Russian, or was.” “Hul says Inez, meaning that this is emough. “But outside of that,” I _goes on, “how did you like the piece?" Inez shrugs-her shoulders. “Lotta isn't a “I know,” says I “This pantomime, or a movie, and dialogue is somewhat necessary in a play. But “Not ut “All right, T guess,” says ehe. company that the short, bristly haired | much lovin." “But we were worldng up to it “You got that, didn't you? / Tnes blinks unresponsive. ““You.act kinda silly,” she volunteer: * % X X “I was uMANY thanks,” zays I trying to be a flapper, you see, and I must have come somewhere near HERE are a few odds and ends among the Rambler's notes which he means to hand over to you before he closes this series of narratives about actors of Washington and acting in Washing- ton. In one of his stories—but Whether it was a “ramble” or another kind of story, or the same kind of story with angther name, he does not remember—mention was made of “the ‘white horse in ‘Mazeppa.’” That must have recalled to many of you a once popular and prosperous play and an actress who was famously associated with it. As “the white horse of ‘Mazeppa'" came off the typewriter the Ramble: thought of Kate Fisher, and there ilso came to mind the mames of two actors who were popu- lar with us when we were boys and when some of those who are follow- ing these lines were girls. One of those old actors was Daniel Roed. and another wea Charles R. Thorne, sr. The RambléF<inks he teents a local connection here, for old Charles Thorne had at least two boys, one of whom was Charles Thorne, a faverite actor in romantic rcles about twenty years ago, and the cther was William _Thorne, whom we all called Bill Bill was quite an actor himself and in his lifctime played many parts. Ie had 4 big voice and he delivered his lines in a robust way. He was mot what you would call’ a simpering, mealy- mouth actor. Bill wearled of travel and concluded to settle down and he picked out Washington as the most desirable place to settle in. Some time in the eighties he adopted the position of government clerk as his Drofession and attached the Interior Department 'to himself. Bill had a desk in the old patent office building tor a geod many years. but the Rambler long ago lest track of him. Among other old players who trav- eled with Kate Fisher and shared her | fame and applause were Annie Ward Tiffany. who had been leading lady with the elder Booth and Edwin For- rest, and had also served in that ca- pacity with an excellent and rip- snorting tragedian, whose surname was Hamblin, but whose baptismal name the Rambler has forgot. As sociated with Kate Fisher were also George Boniface and Mrs. Bonifacel Kate and Eliza Newto: B. Clark, George Brookers, Edwin Blanchard and Mrs. W. C. Jones. * * & * TTHERE were other popular Mazep- pas besides Kate Fisher, and it may be that you can recall in this role Miss Leo Hudson, an English actress, who was also celebrated as an equestrienne. Her horse, called ‘Sensation,’ fell off the stage one night during the performance of Ma- zeppa_at the old Bowery Theater, New York. The poor horse died in the pit of the theater, while Miss Hudson held his head in her arms. 1t was an affecting incident and was given much publicity. By the wa this Miss Hudson was the first wife | of Charlie Backus, the minstrel, and if you do not remember Charlie your : memory is feeble or you never took much interest in “the minstrels.” Charlie was one of the San Francisco Minstrels, which were playing in San Francisco in 1852, After playing there several years they disbanded and in the 70's the trope was re- formed and for a number of years occupied a little theater on_the west side of Broadway between 28th and 29th streets. or it may have been between 27th and 28th—anyhow, it was very near the old Stuyvesant house, where Charlie. his second wife and his son lived. In that troupe at its New York theater was Dave Wambold, a Washington boy and qne | of the sweetest singers among the minstrels. Billy Birch was another member. So was Billy Emerson. So was Bobby Newcomb, and you sure- 1y remember singing “Down Where the Pansies Grow,” and that other old song. “I'm as Happy as a Big Sunflowe! which went something 1ike this There is a charm I can't explain about a gfrl I've seen, And my heart beats faat as she goes past in a dark dress trimmed with green: Her eyes are bright as evening stars, so lov- ing and 8o shy. And the folks all stop and look around when- ever she goes br. Chorus: Then T feel J t as happy as a Wg sunflower ‘That nods and bends in the breezes, And ";J heart is as light as the wind that ows The lesves from off the treeses. Charlie Backus had a number of good turns and was always thinking up something new. or that scemed new. He had a recitation called “A Shakespearean Drcam.” beginning: Last night I thought T was with Shakespeare; my dream ran thus: To be or not to be, that is the qu tion!” And then Hamlet. Le; Othello, Richard, Macbeth, Juliet and all the rest passed before him. Charlie could imitate a fiddle with his voice and he was great on show- ing how Edwin Forrest read the lines of Richard. Do you remember al great New York ~cornetist named Levy? 1 think he was the cornet —_— it. are you \ Inez nods. “Carfying on with that man!” says she. “Precisely,” says I. “Why, you're almost flattefing, Inez.” ¢ She stares at me doubtful fpr a minute and then asks: “Do—do you get him after all “Wasn't that made plain?" says I ou heard the last few lines, didn’t you?" “But ¥ou—you didn’t hug,” protests Inez. i “That's true” says I. “We finish at arm’s length, merely holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes. No rushing to a clinch, no record-break- ing osculation. But the terrace of a tourist hotel would be rdther a public place for that sort of gummy windup, wouldn't it? Barry’s fault. ‘'He wrote it that way. But you could imagine, couldn’t you, what might take place when we were alone at last?” Inez doesn’t admit that she “They ought to hug at the en insists. “T'll speak to Ames Hunt about that” says I winking at Barry. I wouidn't mind.. Sczernoft looks like a chap who could do. a good job at it. But.how did the lines go, Inez? Get any chuckles from ’em?” “Mostly foolish,” says she. “You did laugh once, though,” I re- minds her. Inex grins reminiscent. #When he smash the bottle, yes” she admits. “Kinda funny. I like to see him do that again.” L “There you are, Barry!" says L “Your play has been saved from ob- livion' by & spring water bottle.” “Horseplay!” says Barry. _“Slap- stick stuff. I wish Hunt woilld cut that out. “You're dead wrong, Barry,” says I. “Inez has proved it. Just think; if we ever move uptown we'll have Inez scattered all over the house—in\ the orchestra chairs, in the boxes, in the balconies. And. their hee-haws will hel “What you m&n?’ demands Ines. “I gotta be all over?’ «Mere figure of speech. Inez.” savs 1. “And if one smashed -bottle will work the trick—say, Barry. I'll tell you! Why mot have the dessert a squash pie and- then I could throw it at the prince, or he could throw You're sure I seemed silly enough, conld, d," she it at—' “Gr-r-r-r. ys 'Barry. “Stop kid- ding me. Trilby Mav “Ask Inex”” I insists. “Qh-huh!” says Inez. “Swell! But custard. that would be best.” “If you only knew it, Earry boy,” nvn 1. “vox populi has spoke: y the. way he glared at us as he lefi. ‘1-take it that Barry's ego was about to froth at the mouth. “You get him mad about something, eh?" asks Inez. “It -was either that or get hugged.” ssva I, “and Ididn’t want to spoil an otherwise perfect afternoon.” (Copyright, -1921, by Sewell Ford.) } ‘ROMANTIC Actors of Years Ago. Kate Fisher and Other Stars—The ‘ Originator of the Minstrel Show—Dan Emmett and the Song “Dixie"™—Thom- | asD.Rice and " Jump Jim Crow " ~Wash- | ingtonians on the Stage. | | i | i i | ! soloist in Gilmore's Band, ,r‘onld do more things to a cornet than even the great Liberati could. IRemember him? Well, Charlie could imitate and burlesque Levy with his voice and his hands. I Milt Barlow was also Francigco Minstrels. ihave been the origi artist, but he was very early in that game. He came on, dressed as :l 1seedy-weedy congressman does Washington for buncomb effect on Jay conmstituents, and took his place beside the washstand. on whi a pitcher of water and a glass. was to deliver and address on fish, or it may have been milk, but never mind the title, because there was never any relation between the text and the context. He would fastidi- ously pour out a full glass of water, and then, absent-mindedly, he would drink a full draught from the pitc wiping. his lips on the tail of his long frock coat, and then proceeding with his address—that is, he would start to proceed, but he never pro- ceeded. He never got anywhere, and we were so side-split and side-ached with laughter that these -forty or fifty years after we feel it still, and that happy pain will endure until the last card is plaved and the lights go Lew Dockstader was one of the tangle-talkers, and then this line of business became a stage fad. Johnson and Powers, a song and dance team, were with the San Fran- cisco Minstrels. and there as also Billy Bernard, whose real name was William White. He was the inter-; Jocutor. Mr. White was a man of!} high inteligence and extensive learn ing. He was a Grecian and Latinist of the real sort, and few nmu Knew better the literature of Rome. | * x * % ] started to write about something else and switched to minstrels, but no” matter. “Death of the Oldest Minstrel” is a headine that comes to us now and then in our paper, and frequently enough to give us fear that the oldest minstrel is really in the San Milt may not al “tangle-talk” = ldead. Such headlines and such news sadden men whose hair, if any has been left, is gray, for negro min- strelsy played—and sang and danced and joked—a large role inf our young lives, and makes the thoughts of old- sters drift back to the time when the negrc minstrel was a power in the field of melody and'fun. Those that might become minstrel men now have their turns in vaudeville, in comic opera, in burlesque, in extravaganza and in all that. Even in the provinces, where the chandelier in the town hall shines with the rosy light of oil lamps, is it nojw rare to hear the rattle of bones, the tintinabulation of the tambo and the whang-whang of the banjo. No longer down Main street from the deepot past the City” Hotel or the Farmers' Rest to the O'pry House, marches the minstrel cornet band—silver cornet band—and throbbing snare-drums. and with silken banners inscribed “Christy’s Minstrels,” “Bryants Minstrels,” “Carncross and Dixie,” “Haverly’s Mastodons,"” “Thatcher, Primrose and West,” “Hi Henry's Minstrels,” “Mc- Nish, Johnson and Slavin, filt Bar- low and George Wilson.” Many of their spirits look down on us from that happy land where there are no one-night stands, afternoon parades, and he! troupe with hg are forgot. Emmett also wrote “Old Dan Tucker,” still sung and fiddled |in Maryland and Virginia and other parts of the south, “Walk Along, John,” “Early in de Mornin'” and | “Boatman’s Dance.” It was in the 50s that Emmett wrote “Dixie.” and at that time he was singing and picking the banjo in Bryvant's Min- strels. There are many disagreements; {#s to where, when and under what t| circumstances the great marching tune jand battle song of the Confederate larmies was written. One account i ilesque, which &he was playing in New Orleans just before the outbreak of the civil war.” It has also been written that Dan Emmett sang “Dixie” at the jold New York Melodeon before it was sung by Bryant's Minstrels. * k * x O\b of the early minstrels was Thomas D. Rice, and he came to be regarded as a pioneer or original promoter of minstrelsy— sort of Plymouth Rock Pilgrim of the black- |face art. But he was not this. old minstrels, cotemporaries of his, de- {ricd him this honor. He had been an actor and in a play or two had introduced a black-face part. but the j old-line. classic and conscrvative min- trels denied that such an act con- d him a member of their pro- on. He became a minstrel d“d mous one. One of his stunts w: {the “Jim Crow turn.” 1t w centric dance and a funny little song, the refrain of which was Wheel about. turn alo: Do jus' = An’ ebery time I turn about, 1 jump Jim Crow! Botheration, friends! This is half way down the fifth page of my type- writer paper, I have a page and a half still to go, and turning back to the first page of my “copie.” which is the official word for “manuscrip: find, to my surprise, that I started lout to write something about Ma- zeppa. So let me turn back to that subject before it is too_late. Adah Isaacs Menken, long noted as one of the very beautiful women of Yhe stage and who was for some time the wife of John C. Heenan. the great Mazeppas. Adah was a driend of Alexander Dumas, and for vears she was the toast of New York, London, Paris. Rome. New Orleans and San Francisco. In a “ramble” near the beginning of this series the Rambler wrote about her. There were two other popular Ma- zeppas whom the Rambler can recall | —Addie Anderson and Fannie Louise Buckingham. Perhaps from _the depths of your memory you can sum- jmon forth others. ~Bui the actress who was_longest identified With the part of Mazeppa was Kate Fisher, who died only about three years ago, in July, 1918, at her home in Brooklyn. at the age of eighty-five. Her first husband was Gaines Clark, a member {of 2 prominent family of the south, and her second husband was John | Magle, who hag been her advance agent and who died, as the Rambler | recalls, about 1908. that Emmett wrote the piece in New | Orleans in 1839, two years before the civil war, and that it was sung there by Bryant's Minstrels. Brander Matthews, in an article in Seribner's several vears ago. wrote: “Dan - mett devised Dixie in the late 50s; for Bryant's Minstrels. It was intio- jduced by Mrs. John Wood into a bur- prize fighter, was one of the shining | “Jerry Clip.” in which he imitated the reigning actors of that time! When I sat down to this job I really intended to close up the series of old actors and the like and get hack to the roads that wind and wind through | Maryland and Virginia, but there are two or three other things which I want to hand out to you before taking up the ancient houses and old families of Prince Georges, -Fairfax. Charlex. Loudoun, Montgomery and Prince William 'counties, and next week 1 will try my hand on the old Unity Club of Washington and a few other organizations which you have nut thought of for years. Peculiar Panaman Orchid. THE celebrated and distinctive orchid of the isthmus of Panama derives its fame not much from its great size or beauty, as is (he case with the orchids of our florists’ windows, as from the wonderful de- gres in which it exemplifies the principle of mimicry in nature. El espiritu santo, as some long-forgotten mioneer Christian called the flower generations ago, is the Spanish name of Peristeria clata, a terrestrial orchid that is found only in Punama and im- mediately adjoming countr W ling resemblance of the central umn inside the flower to a W dove. The flower is about as large as a duc egg, with three lobes in the center, forming the body and the wings of the dove, and with a num- ber of white petals surrounding the central figure. The way in which the dove eits up in its bower is xo nat- ural that the name is almost an 1m- mediate thought in the mind of any one familiar with the religious em- blems of the church. It is not a fur fetched and fanciful resemblanc are so many cases of orchids said look like animals, but positi startling in its verisimilitude. The plant is one of the tlass ok orchids which grows in the ground. among which are the original orchidss to which belongs the honor of naming the whole order, ax well as the C: s0 y t makes it famous is the start- coi- [ ripedium family, the Lissochilus Africa and others. It sometimes has, its flower stalk as high as four feet with the leaves not much shorters while the green bulb at the base may be as large us a haby’s head. Th leaves are from three 1o five in num> ber, light green, and look o muciy like palm leaves that the plant ir apt to be mistaken for a young palm if not in bloom or if one does not look down in the grass for the bulb, The bulb does not lie under the sur- face of the earth, like those of gre lily, but sits on top of the ground. with a mass of roots on its under side in the soil. usual among terrestrial orchids, though it is the rule with -plants this sort. whose bulbs usuall on the trunk of a tree with roots attached beneath. While Panama is the habitat of the Peristera elata exclusiv other species of the ge Rico and ombia, but are greatly the isthmus, where the flower stalk sometimes has as many as forty blossoms om it at one time, the blooms staying in condition for a month or mere. The places liked best by espiritu santo are upland swamps—that s, where there is water enough in the soil for their use but not enough to prevent their proper development, They are not apt to be found on th low ground near the sea, however rich; they seem to require a certain amount of drainage. Rarely will on. be found on high and dry land. but the most likely spots are the rocky hillsides near the source of peren nial streams, where black humus 1 in shallow depressions among the { rocks. Curiously enough. perhaps the mos flourishink. patch of them on th isthmus is an artifical bed. An al doned excavation, the remains of th old French work, presents a serie of benches or shelves cut into ths rock of a hill. These shelves have accumulated enough soil and decayed vegetable matter on the surface of the rock to support the plants, and the tall grass and small shrubs there afford the needful shade. On the lower branches of this excavation water seeps into the shelves all the year round; and it is also drained by the rough level of the surface to about the right dampness, for the plants are in amazing profusion and in_better condition there than any- where else. Ther> are other patches near this artificial ome, and the orchids grow oniy on the western side of the cut. which has an eastern exposure. It looks almost as if some Frenchman planted them there. This is made {the more likely since ome collector arly similar plant in_this patch, ver, is more like certain African orchid than dny other on the isthmus. This African orchid is the Lissochilus, a native of the cen- ter of the continent, and one which, if successfully hybridized with the Pan- ama one, would produce an extraor- dinary flower. probably of great value. But the history of that patch is en- tirely lost now. Owing to the larfe and.fleshy bulbs which carry so large an amount of food for the plant, it is comparatively easy to tramsport and to transplant. Some of them were sent to the botan- ical gardens in New York and Wash- this habit being un ala “the inferior to the pride latter of ington, where they bloomed and seemed to thrive, according to ac- ‘ counts. i Devastating Sands. { i N few places is the destruction of forests by sand more imy than among the dunes of Coos Ba |in southwestern Oregon. Approach- | ing the entrance of Coos Bay, one sees {to the south a succession of bold | headlands covered by forests of fir ! and spruce, and to the north miles of rolling sand dunes stretching inland like a desert with patches of willow and becch plants here and there, and in the distance clumps of trees and even large areas of forests making last stand against the encroaching dunes. The destruction of the forests there by shifting sands seems all the more remarkable when one considers that the region is excessively humid. One observer reports that in August and hotels rotten and trains that must be | Kate was born in Boston, and g0ing| September, when he was there, mot caught at 4 am. And perhaps those spirits are whispering to us: “Old pal, we made you laugh and we are happy that now, though your shoulders stoop and the tempo of your step is| 1argo, you sometimes think of us! Mr. Bobby Newcomb, the silver-voiced tenor, will now render that popular ballad entitled, ‘Down Where the Pansies Grow". Negro minstrelsy is not so old as many of you think it is. The first bt these troupes of which the Ram- bler has record was the Virginia Minstrels, playing at_the Chatham Street’ Theater, New York, in 1842, with Dan Emmett, William Whitlock, Dick Pelhafp and Frank Brower as the dark particular stars. Dumble- don’s- Serenaders seems to have been the second minstrel troupe, and it was rattling bopes and picking banjos, singing sdngs and cracking jokes—the same ones we hear to- day—in 1843. Then came George Christy’s minstrels, and after that famous troupe came Buckley's Pee- dee Minstrels. Dan Emmeit made an impress on the music world which lasts today. He ‘wrote “Dixie,” tune and words, and that song became the war song of the Confederacy. Its strirring merlt is- acknowledged today. The words which Dan wrote were half- doggerel and half-nonsense, and many. southern poets of mote sup- plied" new words during the civil war, but the troops of the south wnunuaa to sing the orjginal lines: ‘Away down south in de land ob cottan. cinnamon seed au’ de sandy bottom.” . The lines that Emmett ‘wrote seem to be the only.ones re- membered. today. The eloquent ones to New York made her bow as a dancer in 1852 at Burton's Chambers Street Theater. Then she traveled | with_tne Ravel family, which toured the West Indiés and South America, land when Kate came back to the states she toured the west and made a hit as Mazeppa. When she came east she was advertised-as “the great west- ern star” She played Mazeppa in ‘Washington’ many times. When Mrs. Magle died a friend of the Rambler, working on the Brooklyn Eagle, wrote the following about her: “Specially remembered in connection with this play of ‘Mazeppa’ is Don- nelly’s old Brooklyn Olympic Thelter. which stood on Fulton street west of Hoyt on the present site of a depart- ment store annex. Variety, burlesque and melodrama were frequently inter- mingled there on one evéning's pro- gram, and that theater was generally looked on by the theatrical profession as one of theumost popular homes of Byron's Cossack chief. The patrons of Donnelly’s Brooklyn Theater and the old Bowery and Niblo's Garden across the East river never: tired, seemingly, of witnessing the spectacle of a finely formed swoman bound to the back of a snorting steed, dashing like mad and‘surrounded by a shout- ing crowd of ferocjous semi-savages, up an incline and across a bridge on the center of the stagae.” Kate Fisher played other things be- sides Mazeppa. The Rambler re- members her in the “Younz Ameriean Actress” and as Mike Martin in “The Torror of the Highway.” She was an excellent. mimic and people debated whether she was better' in_this line than Frank S. Chanfrau of Kit and Mose fame. T wonder how many of you remember Frank in his little play one day in five was it dry enough and the wind right and strong enough to move the sand. When a dry dav icomes, however, and the wind is strong from the west, the sand flows at so great a ‘rate that it will cover a six-inch log in the lee of a dune in less than an hour. The sand-laden wind makes curious etchings on sticks and timbers and eventually wears away all the wood except the knots. The forests consist mainly of Douglas fir, Sitka spruce. Port Oxford cedar and western red cedar within the area of the dunes and exist now only in patches, almost al- ways in depressions, the former level of the ground. As the wind builds up the advancing crests of the dunes. it often hollows behind them and ex- poses the skeletons of a dead forest. When the hollows are large, a green, grassy meadow, the home of numer- ous moist, sand-loving plants, springs into being. The Aurora Australis. DURING one of the British expedi- tions to the antartic regions more than sixty observations were made of the aurora apstralis, the southern coun- terpart of our northern lights. The ap- pearance of the light resembled that presented in the arctic regions. But the maximum frequency did not occur during the months of the long polar night, and the phenomenon was most intense at the time of the equinoxes, when the sun is perpendicular over the equator and daylight is simul- taneous at both the north and the mlh pole.