The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 21, 1900, Page 5

is an wes. It was conducted after the manner , of a circus, We had a large tent and a and big bard wagon, and all the members of the company wore dress suits. Two or ong prominent peo- ve been as one connected with the theatri- cal profession. Moreover, G most end ng way G story he always has 6 good one left up his sleeve that is better even than the one before. The following are 6 few of his’ recollections of fomous players he kas wmet who are mow numbered omong “those who have gone be- fore” These stories have not only 6 passing interest, but o historical significonce as well. e Tt o S S S NP S S S, b When He Appearsd in “Uncle Tom’s ® e + -+ + i ”"” > Cabin. -8 - +444 B+44+44444444444444440 preferred of the STAR T ROBSINS breenne vwern 1 PRESIDENTIBU MANA S three miles outside of the town we were to play we would put on our fine clothes, get Into carriages and be driven in. It was “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” by the way, that did more than even ths museums to bring the religious people to the thea~ ter; but not even that very good moral drama would have brought them at first if the theater had been called anything but & museum, or if if had been pro- duced in any other place than under a tent. O++++ 44444 444444444490 : - > t A Peculiar Meeting £ + With James Bu- + + + + chanan. + + 304*§++‘+»¢¢.¢¢.§¢¢¢. In the summer of 1864 I took a small company to Lancaster, Pa. The short sea- son was not profitable. In fact, had it not been for a kind-hearted landlord, who not only charged us half price for board but made up a purse for our benefit, we would have been forced to walk back to Philadelphia. One night we were doing “The ‘Golden Farmer,” in which I was playing Jemmy Twitcher, a ragged tramp, whose professions of honesty did not pre. vent bim from stealing eggs, chickens and anything he could lay his hands on The little theater was almost empty — probably twenty people on the lower floor and ‘as many more In the gallery. Among the scanty audience—seated on THE 'SUNDAY CALL. the front bench—was an old gentleman in a light linen duster, no vcst and a pro- fusion of shirt frill, who laughed immod- erately at the crude efforts of the come- dian while he cooled himself by the wielding of an enormous palmleaf fan. The performance over I retired to my dressing-room feeling rather gloomy over tliness of the h-ase, w the the same old gentleman stood before me. “Well, sonny,” he sald, “they .didn’t treat you very well to-night, did they? Too bad! Never mind; ali-player people, T hear, have to go through the same ex- perience. Better luck will come to you later on. Do you lfke the country? I have a snug little place about two miles from town. Come out to-morrow and' see me. It will brighten you up'a bit.” Of course 1 gladly accepted the invita- tion. The old gentleman gave me the lo- cation of his house and, slapping me on the back most pleasantly, took his leave Who wag he? James Buchanan, ex-Pres- ident of the United States. To say that I was proud of this event but faintly expresses the fact. The next day I drew largely on the company in the matter of clothes. James A. Herne black loaned me a velvet coat, a little too long for me in the sleeves and amply lberal in the back; Louls James & green double- breasted vest, and Lawrence 'Barrett a flaming red necktie. Thus ‘“‘accoutered” I took the road for Mr. Buchanan's house, swelling like a shirt bleaching in.a high wind. I found the ex-President lounging on his front porch, wielding the same big palmleaf fan, for it was a sultry day, He greeted me cordially and Introduced me to the handsomest woman I have ever seen—his nlece, Miss Harrlet Lane. - This lady bad been the relgulpg mistress of the White House during his term of of- fice. He showed me around his groun laughed at my feeble attempts to ent tain him with the lean jokes then current in the theater, told me of the great actors he had seen, how he had helped to hiss Edmund Keene from the stage of a Phil- adelphia theater on account of an in- sulting speech he had made about Amer- ica the previous week in Boston, and how he regretted doing so ten minutes later because of the powerful acting ‘“of the greatest dramatic genius the world has ever known.” I stayed with him as long as good manners would permit and on my departure was given a cordfal “Come and s¢e me agaln—in fact, any time you feel ltke it.” O+++ 4444444444444 4440 1 Night After Day of Abraham Lincoin’s + Funeral. + - O+++4+4+ 4444444444440 The night after Lincoln was shot ncarly every theater In the country was closed, says Robson. It is impossible now for the younger generation to appreciate the tremendous feeling that was aroused by Booth's dastardly act, but more than os- sible, if such a thing there be, for the younger generation to appreclate what rfdiculous precautions the theatrical pro- fession was obliged to go to in order to retrieve itself. I had been playing In Philadelphia for two seasons and came to be somewhat of a favorite anu In conse- quence appeared in nearly. every perform- ance. - When- the theater reopened after the fuperal of the President 1 went to +44 + + + + + Mrs. Drew, the managress, and sald that I desired whatever I appeared in the stage body rather generally known that I was a Boutherner, that I had lost several br ers in the war, and I feared if I st come on alone there would be a dem stration which would be far from pleas- ant. Mrs. Drew agreed with me and we put on “Slasher and Crasher,” a farce. When the curtain goes up alf*the mem- bers of the company are lined up as though the plece were concluding, and this line-up was just the thing that I wanted. There was no demonstration, al- k one man did start to hiss, my heart went pit-a-pat; but I can never forget how furious the half dozen members of the company looked as they stood there in front of the curtain In a farce supposed to be funny, every man Jack of them with a plece of crape around his arm. G444+ 4444304444444 440 [rs. John Drew Made John Wilkes Booth Stutter, G444+ 4444444444444+ 0 I joined Mrs. John Drew’s Arch-street Theater Company, Philadelphia, In 1864, and remaiged with her that season and the two following seasons. The Arch- street Theater was then the leading thea- ter of the country after Wallack's In New York. Wallack's, the Arch-street Theater, and the Boston Museum, were the few theaters that had a remarkable Feputation at that time; that 1s, like any- + + + + + b + tHetet+ street stars. would med to, Mrs. he omewhat abashed. Forrest used to want me to stand 8, yes, yes At this point Mr. rattled by her sweet yes ter, pletely. G+ 4444444044040 000 Laura Keene’s Fright= ful Dream That Came True. @+4+444 4410000000040 0 , with whom I appeared in + + +é4 44 thtt ettt 3 , was one of the most intelligent women I ever t 1 yet her most pro- nounced teristic was one which is generall ated with ignorance. She was superstitious to an absurd degree. She ne allowed her act o take hold 4 with the rig o study Su nbrella wi immediate discharge t sight of a bottle of re frighten her for a w of it was almost ce awful trouble. On playing a farce ca Devil.™ An tmp she was seated at a writing atory to writing a letter. vant, was standing at th chair, * hand away from a stage whisper. The stage dia- sion we were Lady and the * she sald, | This rattied me a trifle. logue proceeded. ““You are sure you can find Don Rafael at his lodgings?*” ““Yes, madam; his servant tells me his wound will confine him to his bed for a week."” “Is this the only paper we have? Whers is the ink?" I bent forward to in her reach, when in confuston at her reproof the vessel was upset and the contents trickled into the 1ap of her white satin dress. The ink was blocd-red. The ghastly look that came over the lady’s face hall never forget, and I was so frightened that I never knew how the scene ended. The next morning at rehearsal she told me I would nev have any luck as long as I Hved, and th: my trouble in the world beyond would be endless. She calied the company together, gave them a detailed account of the ble dream she had had, in nage—to her un- v myrdered befors attempted his res- how he had fallen ead resting on her lood slowly oozed told of a terri which some great known—had been f her eyes; how she cue, but without av dead at her feet, lab while his lif away. Two years after this occurrence to a day Miss Keene was playing at Ford's Theater, Washington. In the third act of the play & sharp shot was heard in ths stage box, from which a man leaped brandishing a smoking weapon and shou ing “Sic semper tyrannis!” The audier and the actors were paralyzed. M Keene was the only person who sesm to reajdze the situation. She ran to the box, and in a moment the head of a dying man was in her lap, the red life’s blodd oozing from a § ly wound. The assas- sin was_my old boyhood's friend, John Wilkes Booth; his victim Abraham Lin- coln, President of the United States s