The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 18, 1897, Page 27

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JULY 18, 1897. 27 4 in on the women whoeare help- ; to make San Francisco a great The papers are to appear city. weekly, and are designed to do for | the feminine side of our public life what all the papers have been do- ing for the masculine side during the past half century. - _ Inanswer to a positively spoken **Come in,” I pushed open the door. At the desk on the opposite side of the room, facing the two windows, sat a large, middle-aged woman, with gray hair combed severely back from a well-shaped forehead. The desk at which she sat was littered with pa- pers and letters an f all conceivable kinds of things which 2 woman in a man’s place could manage to get together. At one side, to her rickt, was a table with a tvpe- writer on it. There was a high screen which apportioned off two-thirds of the room. I sat down at her invitation in the dull light which came in through the window, reflected from three tali, dingy, smoke- s'ained walls surrounding the court oui- eide. And Istared up st the walis of *ne room on which hung framed writings, which in the dim light I could not ais- cern the meaning of. “How long have I been practicing?’ She gazed at me calmly for a time and then made answer: “Many, many years! It was twenty- ' years ago I had my first murder case. I was associate counsel with Judge Darwin at that trial. It maae a great stir when the man was acqnitted. The papers said it was the first rime a woman had ever addressed a jury. Really, though,” she went on modestly, ‘“‘there was credit due to me in that case, nor any par- ticular credit d in one or two others in which I was associatea here in the San Francisco courts.” “What was your greatest case?’ [ asked. Shesat back in her cbair and fixed her eyes on the wall. Not dreamily—indeed, those calm gray eyes never lose their ex- yression of present sell-confidence, and the lines of her face never curve into lan- guor or longing in thinking of past or future. Itis action with her and alert- ness always. But, zitting sideways in her chair and | staringat a blank corner of the wall, she answered: *Peaple against Sprowle, Oroville, Butte County, in ’83.'84.” Then sbe looked at me and smiled—a quiet, businessiike smile. *Bui—" I began. “Yes,' she interrupted, “it was a great trial. The man Sprowle shot by mistake a young man by the name of Alexander. He had aimea at the man who had broken up his home and won the affeotions of his wife. Alexander received the bullet instead and d ed from the effects, and the people of Oroville were determined upon l¥ynching Sprowle without a trial. The authorities had all they could do to pro- tect him. ““We bad the wite there from San Fran- cisco, where she had gone after trouble with her husband. She had the room next to mine, and I never left her, | f fea ey would influence her to tes- tify against her husband. The man he bad intended to shoot—the man who had wronged him beyond reparation—was at a hotel there with his wife, and was trying in every way to ses this woman., And she? Well, her husband was on trial for his life, and she loved the other. What could she do but suffer and tell the truth. The night the case was submitted to the jury the woman was HE first of a series of papers| no | the | my feet, bezging me not to prosecute the man she lovad. 1t was awfal!” Mrs. Gordon frowned by way of ex- pressing her reawakened sympathies. " Before tue trial they were anxious to 1n the verdict of ‘Not guilty’ the crowd in the courtroom cheered and carried him on their shoulders through the town. That, I think, was the hardestcase I ever had | and thatwas the greatest victory. “But how one hes to work for every success,” she went on presently. one has to center one’s very life on a sin- gle certain object. The world loses its im- port and only that remains which bears directly upon the one thought. Suppose, for instance, when you have a case where & man is on trial for his life. The man, poor heipless wretch, gives you his life—practically { lays it in your hands and says ‘Save it!’ He tells you bis every thought and mo- tive. He takes you into his confidence 2A DE FO GOR PO Rc A AY N. | | and shows you the dark corners and un- | seals the closed Goors and holds the lan- tern of his understanding so that you | may examine along the ways his soul has trod and wiiness the obstacles it has stumbled over. Each Ji'e, my | | friend,”” she said earnestly, ‘‘each life nas | 80 much we cannot understand that some- times I bhave looked upon the human being ana I have thought, ‘Ob, no one is to blame—no one.’ Step by step, along come—some of them pushed along, crouch- | ing beneath the hedges, *‘Is it their fault that they were started out in the crouching position when they knew no better, and that as they went | along they must always croucl, for their forms had become cramped and had grown double, and their eyes had to look | always down, since tuey could not stand the light of the sun no- the blue of the sky, nor the sight of the waving trees? But the tune of a song-bird g=ts into tne breast of that crouching form some way and somewhere and he carries it with him always and unconsciousiy. Do you be- JTHE WOMEN SCIENT) E WOMEN nearly insane and she fairly groveled at | Iynch Sprowl, but when the j ury brought | “How | ‘the highways and byways of life they | /, STS: TS “There wasthe story of a wretch who took the guiit of his friend upon him, and was hanged, in return for a kindness, when neither was guilty. There was a little yellow dog, a wretched-looking little beast—nhis sides and back all bone, that seemed glued together for lack of food. He was runping wildly between the feet of passing well-iressed men and rudely against the dresses of tke women. |and they kicked him aside, poor fittle hungering creature, and pushed | him and lifted their heads in disgust. And there was a blear-eyed tramp, with a bloated face and a slouching | way. We woula have locked the door and kept out of sight if we had seen him in front of the house. But he went to the yellow dog and gave him a crust of bread from his pocket and patted him on the head and said with a grim humor that made your heart chords ieel suddenly tightened, *Cam’ on, yer poorlittle devil, | you'n 1’d b:tter trovel together’; and the dog followed him away through the \ b — = SV crowd.” On the whole I thought I did agree with her, “But in spite of all the difficulties I do enjoy the work,”” Mrs. Gordon went on after a short silence. *I gaveit up for a while and tried the lecture platform. I joined hands with the suffragists and worked with them until L had wused up all my money and exhausted my strength and then it came back to my own profession. Lately I have not taken crimineal cases to any great ex- tent—just a few for charity. The work in | the Probate Court is much cleaner. I have had a few cases in tue Police Courr, and, by the way,”—she glanced up ata plain little clock that ticked away rasp- ingly on one corner of the desk—*'I am due at the Police Court this morning. ‘Would you like to go with me?” I accepted the invitation and hurried down the broad, bare halls and inio the | elevator. What a hateful, dingy place the Police | Courtis! Not because there isinsuflicient | light, nor because the sunshine is wholly licve it? invisible, but because there is a dankness — o THE WO EDUCATORS: }'"f ~— ,\CJ'! PRIEN Yaupa s\ G R WOMEN SPEAKpp WOMEN OFFICyy; o about the atmosphere through. A few greasy-looking men were seated near me, and one nervously fingered his hat. This ain’t no fun the first time yer in,” he averred, shaking his head with mock that chilled me wisdom. *Ttain’t no fun at all.” After awhile they say they “don’t | mind it.”” Again T wondered at the limitless poss'- bilities of the human race. Who cau say to what height it may attain, and—w the depth was just expressed by th | dividual of the oily countenance as he rolled his red eyes around the room and | rested them on the prisoners’ dock. *This is a dreaaful scene’' said Mrs, Gordon’s voice in my ear. I have a little business over here and Shen we'll go.” | She moved away, and I, feeling like one stranded on a desert island, gazed into | the faces of Judge and lawyers and tried to und -rstand. -CoTH apart from the rest as far as she could re- move herself, huddied as they were. Mrs. Gordon took her place with the men befora the Judge. The courtroom quieted slightly. She made her request for a continuance of some short period in the case of this woman in order to allow time for the subpenaing of 2 certain wit- ness. Indifferently it was granted by the Judge; resvectiully it was received by the attorney, and tremblingly by the fratl, hollow-eyed woman, whose greatest crime seemed to have been that she was the vic- tim of circumstances. “It makes onaill to go to that place,’” said Mrs. Gordon as we emerged once more into the cool air. ‘‘There is more degradation and misery there in a day than you can conceive of in a year. - “Inever have been able to understand,” she hastened to add, as we went on our way down the street, “why it is that the Ctristian women of the City do not find some practical work to do instead of so much talking. If some of them wouid only band together and do this work— station themselves there dailyin the prison = OMEN PriyanTHROPISTS] N "G OMEN ARTISTS: ':'E Wwo, EN MUSICIANS. and speak pleasant words of cheer to the frichtened, despairing creatures, their words would not be of so little avail. Why, they could do worlds of good there —not singing and praying and preaching alone —but removing their dainty gloves and laying tieir hands upon the throbbing, feverish fore- heads and raising their veils and looking into the eyes — no matter how bleared and sunken and want- ing in finer senses those eyes might be— speaking a few cheering words and giving them a smile. You have no idea how much good they would accomplish and what a deal of evil would be done awav with in the City.” *Why don’t you suggest it?”’ I asked. She laughed siightly. *That would do no good. Suggest? Why'’—and she stood still in the middle of the walk and raised her hand impressively—‘‘when the wellbeing of their own sons and daughters of their houses, their city, their very coun- A woman sat in the prisoners’ dock | try, does not suggest it, what good would the words of one woman do? No!” and she walked on again and I marveled at the pose of her head and the de- termination 1 her face. ‘“No. All I can do is to begin at the wrong end and cut the threads. Did vou ever try to uuravel a piece of threadwork backward? You will have to cut every other thread, and it breaks and knots and pulls. Thatis the way the problem seems to me sometimes when I am called upon to defend some straying boy. “But I would not have chosen any vo- cation but this in all the world,” she said, as thoush fearing that she had spoken too disparagingly of it. “I have followed it for thirty years. When I bezan Juages Murphy and Darwin were beginning. I do not understand why more women do not choose this work. I fairly hunger to meeta woman who knows and can feel and understand as I do. Fora woman lawyer must be different from anything else in the world. Added to her na- tural sympathetic tendencies must be a strength of purpose and a de- termination to conquer. If her tenderness of heart is surpassed by her S reasoning powers and determination, then she is a failure as a woman, though a suc- ¢ess as a lawyer, and if she is all sympa- thy she is a success as a woman end a failure as a lawyer. Which is the better of taetwu? If she can only keep the iwo requisites well balanced she is a woncer.” Which had she done? Well, she left the impression upon me of being earnest and self-reliant. The firm face and the steady, unsmiling eyes that seem trained to fer- ret out your thoughts, I have seen in most of the lawyers I have met. But the realization of the depths of misery and the soul-trial was a woman’s realization whoily, A man lacks the insight or per- haps only the power to understand and feel. * * * * * * Very different from Mrs. Gordon’s strangely littered and unwholesome room was the office where Miss Eiliza- beth Ryan does her practicing. Perhaps it i3 because she is so much younger and has just begun her professional career s 47 that her hair iscombed becomingly and her eyes have a smile in them alwavs and her clear-cut features have not lost the power of breaking inio a sunshiny laugh. Miss Ryan is one of the appraisers in the estate of the late Asa Fisk, and she is the only woman in this State who has ever been appointed an appraiser on an estate, “Am I?" she said, laughingly, when it was spoken of. I wonder why? Isup- pose it just happened so.” And she grace- fully chengea the subject. “No; I have never practiced in the criminal courts, and I den’t think I ever shall. Itdoesn’t seem just the place for a woman. There is plenty to be done in the probate courts, and that is such pleasant work—there is no degradation and misery and filth there. If there is so much hardship in a profession, so much that makes one heartsick, do you not think that the whole work might become distasteful 2" “But,”” I protested, “isn’t a woman fitted to alleviate misery? Can't she do much to cure the degradation?’’ “I fear not,”” she said thoughtfully, “Suppose there was & deep bog—all mud 1 | Santa Cruz. and filth, and there were thousandsof human beings in there. Suppose you only had one weak, white hand to stretch to each, to be graspea by their two strong besmirched onest “Would you not be as likely to fall in part way as they to come out? Atany rate our hands wiil not stay clean. Ob, I do not think one can go among them without either dying of a broken heart or becoming bardened—neither of which is inviting. “And yet,” she said reflectively, ‘“‘the wrong is there and the right is some- where if only we could. bring them to- gether. Who can tell what there is to do? I don’t know, and wish Idid. Ah, welll none of us know, and we all wish we did. “I love the work,” Miss Rvan went on, “put I have kept in the buckground a good deal. How did you find me out?"’ A mere accident.” 8he laughed. *I don’t imagine there are muny lawyers—among the ladies, [ mean—especially in San Francisco.” *I have found only two!"” She laughed again and her langh was infectious. *And were they worth finding?” asked she. And I answered, “Yes.” AR R S W “Throughout the State,” the Clerk of the Supreme Court told me, holding par- tially open a formidable-looking ledeer, “there are a great number of lady law- vers, most of whom have gone out from San Francisco. For instance, at Vallejo there is Miss Cleveland—Miss Edith R. Cleveland. She is doing great work, and was one of the brightest ladies 1n her class when she graduated. Then there is Miss Clara M. Cotnran in San Jose. “She and her brother graduated at the same time. She has a larger practice than her brother. “And there is in Santa Cruz an elderly, gray-haired lady who has but lately taken up the law as hor profession. Let me see, what is her name ? “The ladies,”” he went on earnestly, as he turned the leaves, “the ladies are a great success in law—that is, of course, if they like it. Now here’s one—Miss Mabel Craft. She prefers the newspaper busi- ness”—and he looked at me sharply. “But for any one who wants—well, a chance for fame and to be before the public, the law is far ahead oi—well, any- thing else.” Ileft him patiently turning the leaves of the ledger, still looking for the lady in He may be looking yet, for as I tip-toed out, not wanting ail my faith and interest spoiled, he was still saying: “Let me see M—Mu—Mur—Yes, itis a splendia profession—"’ And as I wenton my way I remembered with regret that the queen of all the Western Portias was not here to be in- cluded in this symposium—gifted and fa- mous Clara Foltz, who in New York is winning larger laurels for herself and re- flecting a brighter luster upon the city which cradled her young talents in their incipiency. MURIEL BAILY. A Famous Drummer. Probably the most remarkable arum- mer who ever lived was Jean Henri, the famous tambour-major of the Emperor Napoleon. One of his feats was to play on fifteen differently toned drums at the some time 1n so deft and harmonious a manner that, instead of the deafening up- roar that might have been expected, the eftect was that of a novel and complete in- strument. In playing he passed from one drum to another with such wonderful quickness that the eyes of the spectators could hardly follow the movement of his hands ana body. THE THEATER-GOING Went Eleven Times a Week for Nearly Three| Months While on a Vacation From the Stage Itself. The ord'nary public doesn’t embrace the best theater-goers in the world. The best theater-goers are those who play in the theaters. Give an actor a vacation and it is ten chances to.one that he will spend most of it at the faet of Thespia. He does this largely because he preters that man- ner of being enterisined; but ke none the less derives from it an advantage consider- ably more valuable than the gratification of h's desire for pleasure. It is one of those rare cases in this world of perversi- ties wherein mankind happens to prefer that which is best for it, When Blanche Bates went on her vaca- tion to the East and Europe last winter, at the close of the Frawley season, she had | a vista of theater engagements before her that would have turned a 8an Fraucisco matinee girl green with envy. ““Theaters!’”” she exclaimed, in speaking of her trip, “why, you people who are known as theater-goers hardly realize what regular theater-going means. 3 “During a three months’ journey in the East, in London, in Paris and in other European cities there were only fourteen days and nights passed that did not find me in the audience at some theater, and those fourteen days and nights were spent on the steamers. I attended as many as eleven performances in one week. What would one of you who make up the aver- age andience think of that? And, you see, really our place is not in front of the | stage at all—that is the audience’s part of the theater. Yet when once we es- cape from our part, whether it be fora day or a year, we beat the audience in its own element.” There was in her little air of triumph an obvious consciousness that theater-going {as a pastime and theater-going as a pre- scribed course of study might not be | fairly compared, for she smiled in merry | seli-deprecation as the went on to declare, 'Oh, it wasn’t so entrancing as my sisters | of the dress circle might imagine, even with a daily pilgrimage to Wor.h and Fe- | lix thrown in. Anything will pall a little | when you make work ot it. ButIbad a | glorious time, I saw Duse.’’ | 8heleaned forward and indulged 1n one | of those little gasps of delight, which are so characteristic of her charming person- | ality on the stage or off. Evidently see- ing Duse amounted in Ler eyes to a great deal. “She is marvelous — simply marvel- ous,” she would have me know. *I fol- lowed her from pisce to place and saw her at every performance and in every role. | She is a genius inspir d by the gods and was born to act. How I regretted that she would consent to appear only four times a week! She positively refuses to do more than that anda seems to do that with reluctance. It is the privilege of genius, though, and perhaps au essen- tial quality.” “But you appear seven times a week, Miss Baies,” I ventured mildly to ex- postulate. “Yes. Isn’t it too bad?'"” she replied, assuming & dolorous air thut sent my well-meant compliment flying on the wings of ill-timed mirth. Uniess you're | a philosopher you’ll deduce scant gratifi- cation from complimenting a person who flagrantly refuses to take it seriously until after your back is turned. And a clever woman will alwaysdo that. Moral: Unless you're a philosopher don’t compli- ment a clever woman, and don’t do it EXPERIENCES OF A CALIFORNIA ! then if yon don’t mean it. I’m a pbiloso- pher. The Clever Woman resumed : “In London 1 went incessantly to the theater and saw everything. Eilen Terry is a wonderfully gified actress—much more of an actress, in the real sense of the word, than 1lrving is an actor. Bhedoesn’t California’s Leading Lady as Etna in in “The Great Unknown.” seem to depend so much upon de- tail and the fine finish and time- liness of each and every movement as Irving does. Hers is more the soul of acting and the dramatic fire. And, do you know, they don’t place so much stress upon the age of Terry and Bernhardt over there as we do upon that of some of our famous actresses on this side. When the genivs of Ellen Terry is commented upon in a London drawing- room no one shbrugs his shoulders and says 'Oh, but see how old she is,’ unless there happens to be an American present, We are in an awful haste over here. It requires a trip to London to open one’s eyes to the almost feverish rapidity in the evolution of things in America. “Qur tension is keyed up to such a high point that we are constantly on the qui vive for something new, and nothing that is not new is deemed worthy of seri- | ous attention. It is ‘off with the oid and |on with the new,’” in a most striking seuse, I suppose itis our newness as a Nation, cur youthful exuberance, that makes us careless. It certainly isn't any consideration of patriotism or American sentiment, for we observe a blank impar- tiality in our discarding of things as soon as the novelty is off, whetler they be Eng- As the Widow Stevenson in “The Two Escutcheons.” lish or American. Those Britons are pa- triotic to a simply unspeakabledegree. “Eyerything that is British is good and everything that is not British is good only according to its conformity with things which are. That was one of the things over there that filled me with un- utt-rable rage, The smug satisfaction of every Englishman wich everything that was English, and the lofty assumption of superiority with which he viewed every- thing that was not, presented a spectacle of sublime fatuity before which I was dumb, “It was a positive relief to get back into America. 1 could breathe freely again. and as I rushed off the boat in New York I exclaimed: 'O America, I love you, even If you are careless and exuberant and a little too rapid for serious work!” “Americans could do anything they pleased, but they don’t please to do nearly as much as Frenchmen or Englishmen do. Over there they endow literature, art and the drama. In Paris the Government ap- vropriates funds to maintain the finest opera-house in the world. In America we let literature, art, the drama and every- thing elss except politics shift for itself. I <uppose that's because politics controls everything over here. We are awfully practical and appallingly mechanical. Whatever we do inany other line is merely a diversion and of no real consequence. The intellectual pursuits which France adopted as a matter of course, as a part of her organism, are called ‘iuxuries’ on this side of the Atlantic, and any American of As Phyllis in * The Charity Ball.” moderaie circumstances will assure you with uplified hands and eyes that luxuries are to be afforded by only the rich.” She lifted her hands and her eyes in mock horror of the idea that American plebeians should dare aspire to intel- lectual purscits, and I was reminded of Robert Barr's expression of regret on re- ceiving a six-page letter from Kipling: “What a treat is this that the world is denied!"” “And yet,” she continued, relapsing into her off-the-stage manner again, “‘this journey across the pond taught me that America possesses compensations for all that she lacks. You don’t undersiand just what it is—it is something in the na- ture of the people themselves—but you do know that you are glad to get back in thz midst of it after a trial of the queer i iife they live so sedately on the other side,” The talented leading lady of the Fra ley Company is still a loyal California girl, and says that in 8o far as the Golden State, with its vigorous young liie; its healthy energy and its dazzling achieve- ments in all that it has laid its hand to, is typical of the whole American country, she loves it with a spirit corresponding to the superiority of its manner of doing ana being those typical things. When Sothern asked her to forsake the home company and go East as his leading lady, and when Daiy and Frohman each endeavored to lure her into the charmed circle of Gotham theatrical lije, she stead- ily- refused to leave the associations that were so closely identified with her first success in her choser field. It was San Francisco that first recognized her and gave her fame (she made her STAGE STAR ABROAD And Incidentally Picked Up a Few Ideas About Europe as Compared With Her Own Land. debut with the very company in which she is now playing), and it is from San Fran- c.sco that she still prefers to take her sen- tences before the bar of dramatic eriti- cism. A rare attribute is this. Most of those of whom we would like to be proud in our own bailiwick give us a very brief opportunity: they no sooner become worthy of our praise than they attract the praise of the magnetic East and then—presto!—the opportunity 18 gone, along with the praiseworthy bird. This California favorite went abroad simply to glean more arts wherewith to charm us here at home on her return, and never has she succeeded to better advan- tage in this loyal undertaking than she is succeeding at the present time. Her third year on the stage finds her bloom- ing with the highest biossomson the ro tree of genius, youth and beauty, ret. ing the admiration and fulfilling the ex- pectations of those who nurtured her in ber early growth and basking under the rays of their final approval in the fuil and ultimate consummation of the destiny they planned for her. Among the stars of the lizht comedy and the finished drawing-room drams, with all their es. sent al grace, vivacity, fine satire and art of impersonation, our patriotic S8an Fran. cisco girl holds a bright particular place. Before [ left her she showed me some photographs she had taken in New York, poriraying her in the characters that she is to play during the present season. Be- ing a newspaper writer and having a profitable sense of my duties, I promptly stole them as soon as she turned her heaa, and my reward lies in presenting them first to her friends, the public. C. D.