The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 11, 1903, Page 46

N FRANCISCO CALL NDAY, OCTOBER 11. 190 capped ma successor, not then current * nice girl J me that Miss Rush had been described to her and t point her out to me. It was k but superfluor i to trust t ately for herself y sheathed 1 maid’s descript less picturesc But it was should follow Miss ¥ mpossible that 1 ) the elevator addicted to the 1 shouild the parlors withou and immediately obvious Bubject of gow took the rocking chair, n a moment, joyfully taking-in of her 114 h bath costume, I al- nded with careful frank- s8. 1 was quite willing to look at the ac- tress, as she explained that she was once the “too much” of 15 pound: Perhaps five feet five at a generous ¢ timate is Miss Rush, but looking much taller. She is broad shouldered and shim hipped, with not a line of her blurred in the drawing. The gown—there is so much of Mise Wb besides her 114 pounds in 1 at the waist b ne bit of jewel 1ind was the ac- a diamond also black, with the one willful e rest Miss Rush is not unlike ar ssell. Her hair is bright nd €he has a sunnily infectious a u will find. The coloring is ke rad and white and obviouely home made v 114 pounds because it sounds so Rush went on, lifting her v for me to take them in. 1 manage {t? edicine balls, rid- she laughed, her She put back her , flat as a West Pointer’s, as if every muscle obeyed orders, and bent this way and that in pure en- ! T shan't come apart” she as I looked a little alarmed for itions of her skirt and waist. t if I wanted to. I hate women and safety pins and belts t you?’ wondering if these were also on MacLane's humorous litany of Il my dresses—are in one fortunate lady pursued. “I one minut d know v divorce at the waist.” fastened at the back, er skirt, slightly yoked at the top., aded with ¢ as thick as a strip of vermicilli “Do you always fa d, awe-ful ot at all,” she replied. “I've a gun 2t buttons from the neck en at the back ned at the waist “And is joined at the walst—always.” I fancy most of us are given to the shirt waist habit because of its econ- tured. at_the laundry bills,” said Miss Rush, taking her rocking chair agai “Anywa . you were the inventor of the shirt w &irl,” 1 accused Miss Rush, who was the original of Clementina Stur-/ gis in “The Politician,” and the first man- nish girl on the stage. “True, too true,” laughed the accused. ery man that has had his tie stolen studs ‘hooked’ has me to thank But I was a nice, innocent, bil- whose only loves But Clemen- before that, linings and lingerie. Sturgis was great fun. study every new tle and collar, and cuft boy's walk. Then when there were draw- All the suffragists used to come to call on me, to ask my opinion on the ge question. Just as'if I wanted to ; we have enough to do as it is, T decided Miss Rush, u were with Roland Reed, then?” ed, for Miss Rush is the widow of American comedian and was his leading woman for years. asure of seeing Mr. Reed, nor ‘The Mrs. Reed’s sunny face looked proudly out of the shadow that glanced across it, “You missed seeing then— pardon me—one of the greatest American straight through and buttoned up the back.” “You began with Mr. Reed?"” “Yes, in '9, thirteen years ago,” she answered, “as leading woman—the dignity of it all, if you please.” “How did you manage that?"” Then she told me in her neat, rapid English, as trim as her gown, of her un- usual experience. “1 went to New York one day deter- 3 MISS ISIDORE RUSH, WHO TALKS TO THE INTERVIEWER OF HER GOWNS, OF COMIC OPERA AND OF NATURALNESS AS THE KEY TO DRAMATIC SUCCESS. &S | | i 3 - mined to be an actress—1'd always wanted to be—and went first to Rudolph Aron- son at the Casino to tell him so. Mr. Aronson liked something in my appear- ance, perhaps my dress’—looking down at her immaculate lines smilingly. “I understand,” I sympathized, taking in again that wender of stitchery. “And he said: ‘Yes, come down to re- hearsal in the morning, Miss Rush.’ Then, strangely, 1 met Mr. Reed just after 1 left the Casinos We were old friends and he asked me where I had been. I told him and he then said: “Wouldn't you like to come with me? ™ “That must have been a wonderful gown!” “Oh, leading ladies were not so plenti- ful then as .’ she laughed. “But T was haughty then, of course, and I asked Mr. Reed as what I should come. “‘As Miss Walton in ‘The Woman Hater,” Mr. Reed said. ‘Do you think you could do it? I told him I thought I could do Mrs. Lucie Joy—the lead! I wonder now how I dared. But Mr. Reed =aid: ‘I rather like the way you say that,’ and he actually gave me the part. It was a woman of 43, by the way. Then oné of the crities said after my first per; formance, ‘We have Isidore Rush back with her smile again, and easy, finished methods.’ But I was mad! But Mr. Reed said it was a great compliment, only I wanted credit for a first effort, you know.” “And ever afterward you continued as ‘his leading lady?” : “Yes,” Miss Rush confirmed. “This musical comedy work is new to you?’ - “My first offense, l“x! T've always liked comic opera.” “Do you sing? Oh, pardon me?'—as the actress looked slightly surprised, “‘one is not expected to sing in musical comedy.” “Néither do 1,” she laughed good- naturedly—I'd like a eorner on Miss Rush’s laughs for a year or two. Every- thing laughs, eyes, lips; voice, even her hair seems to crinkle sweetness. “I spring an occasional note, but it shouldn't be held against me. You know, even the Greatest of Us"—and she opened her eyes in mock awe—'‘Ada Reeve, says she can’t get the effect if she sings her songs, Shefust talks them; you know.” “You're exactly Lady Holyrood,” I ex- claimed suddenly, the chic, fluffy widow of “Florodora” and ‘“Tact” looming up before me. * Miss Rush confessed. rt of role. I've al : — flippant comedienne” it. “I had a s i ical en- gagement before this, the Rogers Bros. I followed Della Fox there as Belle Money in ‘In Central Park. “One of the Fischer girls is their lead- ing lady now,” I added. “Ah, yves. Lillian Coleman. Very pretty girl, large eyes, sweet contralto, gracefdl, I can see heg now.” Miss Rush said, and I noted the same unstudied kindness in her attitude toward every person men- tioned during our chat. “And you like musical comedy?” I asked then. “Oh, yes! And I'm going on with it,” she bubbled enthusiastically. “I'm re- hearsing now for ‘The Medal and the Maid. to be produced in January next, another musical comedy. Yes, I enjoy the life altogether. Of course, the one- night stands are a little monotonous and it isn't so cheerful to come on and be gay when you've had no sleep for two nights, as it was with me ‘our first night here. But we have to take the bitter with the sweet. And when one gets an audience of nice people in front it's like a cocktail, pulls you together immediately.” “Of course you are—you all are—sensi- tive to your audience?"” “I know whether they want me or not after my second line,” she earnestly put it. ““You have very wonderful companies here in the summer, they tell me,” she sald then, unexpectedly. I told her of the summer harvest, and more particularly of the splendid com- pany Henry Miller brought here last year. “Lawrance d'Orsay!” Miss Rush repeat- ed, from my list of the Miller people. “Why, Mr. d'Orsay is the hit of years in “The Earl of Pawtucket’ this season in New York.” I told ker Mr. @'Orsay had a very busy press agent who told me so every week. Also that from my impressions of Mr. @'Orsay I was constrained to believe the press ag “It is atter of personality with D’'Orsay the actress said. “He—er— reeks with personality.” Which I thought o very good way of saying that D’Orsay cannot say two words like any one but Mr. d'Orsay. “You said a while ago,” I recalled, “that you did not believe in the dramatic schools.” “I suppose I shouldn’t say that?” she said, “but I belleve it. Now, wh ~and she leaned forward earnestly, ‘“‘why should I use my hand like—Mrs. Wheat- croft, say—to express some emotion? We don’t all use the same words to express thoughts. Why should we use the same gestures? T find that most actresses taught in §chools have simply to uhlearn most of the things they have been taught before they can succeed. It is simply a matter of being perfectly natural.” “Now, Miss Rush, isn't that absolutely the most difficult art of all?” I asked, “to be natural not onry in another per- son’s clothes, but in his phraseology, in his mental habits, in his emotional togs?"” “Yes, in that way,” she granted. “But my contention is that the cut and dried, catalogued rules for doing these things that ave dealt out to you in the schools are a hindrance rather than a help and that your own intelligence will place you there much more quickly.” “But what of the use of the volce and that kind of thing?” “The,less elocution the better,” Miss Rush sized up the situation. ‘“When the actor has the elocutory instinet it is good- by to his naturalness.’ “I mean rather the ability to throw the voice over the inciation What Rush querie “But w himself with ights, pront k.&rul ft manager for?’ Miss rciation, ng?’ “If any girl will go t ager and ay, ‘I want to come down an hour earlier to study that part with you I'm not sure of my interpretation. Wil you go over it with me? the stage man- . begin to e too glad to give it,” she said or exam- ple, I had never kicked in my life when I went to the Rogers Brothers, but the stage manager there gave me t I had to have and I practiced five hov a day on them until I had m. And Mr. Seamore would go through parts with me, suggesting a gesture ecting a wrong inflection, pronunc on and 3o on, all of which I would put on the tiy- leaf of my part and go L0 my own room to work out.” “The French are great believers in their dramatic school, the ( ervatoire.” “But they overact—Bernhardt, for ex- ample.” “You feel that “Very much,” said Miss Rush. “In “Tosca.’ for example, her arms are always in the air"—throwing up her own, shim- mering through the etamine to ill “To me, the less gesture with the illu the better. You and I don't 40 of thing, talking here “But we're not ‘Toseas,” I 1 “Then again there is the fact that actics is not being perfectly natural, but look ing it, and that to look natural everything must be slightly exaggerated. But this is getting overdeep and it's late.” M Rush had told me that she was going riding in Golden Gate Park. ““Ah, the horseshoe “All the jewelry And M Rush, as came out, one of the most famous experts on rubies in the country, and with a collection of gems that looks like a Tiffany warehouse, said. “Yes, 1 think stage people are suffl conspicuous without gems on the street. Don’t you?" Advisedly, as I regarded the miraculous simplicity beside me silhoueted against a drab wall, I replied - Plays and the Players George Fawcett's third annual play con- test is now under way, and several ms uscripts have already reached him at his ks thiater. Chas Baltimore, where R Sampanty i Do ntly located. “Th. Favor of the Queen,” in which Miss Pere: Haswell is to be starred this season under Mr. Fawcett's management, was the win- ner last year. The prize is a substantial one, while a first-class production is guar- anteed of the winning play. Manuseripts should be addrgssed to George Fawcett, Chase’s Theater, Baltimore. The contest will close March 1, 1904, William A. Brady, under whose direc- tion Wilton Lackaye is to star in “Th Pit,” and Chanding Pollock, who adapt- ed the play from Frank Norris' novel announce the receipt of the following self-explanatory letter: *“I have just finished reading your drama of ‘The t and both Mrs. Frank Norris and myseif, his, mother, are immeénsely pleased with the character of Jadwin. It is faithful to the original in the book and faithful to the original man—the character was drawn from life. I think the closing scene of the first act, where Corthell dis- covers the scattered rose Idives, ‘very good and the whole piece is as striking a dramatization as 1 have ever seen Both Mrs. Frank Norris and myself wish for a box the first night of “The Pit's’ presentation_in Chicago. “GERTRUDE G. NORRIS.” had repl