The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 23, 1904, Page 19

’ THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, OCTOEER 23, 1904 W*lfll = = \ T _l | BLANCHE — e — » ,/(, — A' there is better fun You don't when there Quite frequer at the other end y my third visit rhaps because it was formance—when I ce to make-up. It es at the Wednesday star dressing room at heater. He was on the to hi®e a striking alarm filched, when I ar- afterward B rived fter I had made the little Mrs. Powers, d, brown-haired and ul. Mrs. Powers had oon before, after an from New Y ts of Pullman drago s They had her in car after her miss s put own rou e Li ey do it” T asked, lean- 1e the picture. the artist for that dis- the mirror some i time to take in the w Kk f the thing— th » streak that cuts off . ver- > th t the - shars e that lifts the eloquent w brow, and even e throwing up of nd the like by means sed as the painter as good a bit led “las- who as ever cz did not learn to do that in a éa I remarked not,” Mr. Powers acknowl- edg rising to pull out the newspa- t stuffed his trousers. ‘“These to have n to tell ned to sco. It I was fe been But s in every bad as going to China. on t $40 a month on your face in any of them,” I testified. “But how did you study the thing out?” “I began”—Mr. Powers began, but caught up with that thin, irresistible Chinese chuckle that fits the Li like his queue—"I began by trying to pump a Chinese laundryman that used to wash for us for the dialect. ‘Collars all leddy plitty soon, John?' I asked him. ‘Your collars will probably be ready by Thursday, as usual, Mr. Powers,’ he said. I gave it up then. But I was al- most crazy when Daly asked me to play a Chinaman at first. ‘I can't, I said. ‘Yes, you cam’ he said. And I knew he knew. Daly always knew.” “Daly always knew,” was the key of the little eulogy that followed. Four ith him Mr. Powers had, of inspiration and encourage- One charactertistic of this clev- of managers he enlarged upon, erest his habit of leaving the actor, as far as possible, free to follow out his own ide “But he was born for the thea- ter,” he concluded, “never happy only in the smell and hurry of it. I used to try to get him out on fine days, but he would take the limelight instead of the sunlight every time.” “It strikes me that you, too, were born for the theater, Mr. Powers.” “Never wanted to do anything else,” the comedian confessed, “though I did I wish I could set down the drollery of his chuckle as he said it, the fun lurking in the corners of his big, ex- pressive mouth. He put up a delight- fully silly finger to his chin to con- “You know mamma did not ob- to my going on the stage. In fact, druvy me to it. I suppose she it would be cheaper. I used the furniture for props, and a's gowns for costumes. My first skers, too, were made of mother’s hair—‘whiskers made of mother’s hair’ —good song?”—and, oh, the irresistible drawl of him You know,” he went on, confiden- tially pathetic, “they did apprentice me to a groceryman. I had a long run there—almost a week. I ate ten pounds of sugar during the first three days and was nearly drowned in molasses. Fact, oh, You know I was trying a back flip down in the cellar while the molasses can was filling. The ceiling somehow came down and whacked me on the head and I went insensible. The molasses was up to my chin when they found me.” He got up then to put on his wig, binding the mimic and the real flesh with the slick, rapid movement that distinguishes him, and added: “But that wasn’'t the worst. It was as a messenger boy that I almost bruk mother’s heart. I lasted three hours at that. They sent me with a dispatch to a man named Andrews on Wall street. Byt I got interested on the way teaching fancy steps to three or four other boys and forgot. Then I asked a fellow who'd been watching us dance: ‘Which is Apdrews’ office? ‘I'm Andrews,” he said, ‘why? Tve a dispatch for him,” I sald. ‘You—' well it doasn’t matter what he called me, but I'd lost him $5000. I was dis- charged.” James’ after career at Jack Aber- ley's Theater in New York must have be: lively. He was leading man at eighteen with love to make to a lead- vy of fifty. There was a leading named Brannigan that could “louder than even For- when there wasn't any to say he would insert it. For ling a bucketful of wet paper om the files on Mr. Brannigan’s face as he c yes! me up from a trap dcor, young Powers was *“sent home to mother.” He made it straight with the injured e “heavy” with beer checks, with which Mr. Aberley, who kept a saloon as well as a theater, used partly to discharge his obligations to his actors. After- ward the comedian did everything, dancing turns, Irishmen, Dutchmen, Frenchmen, all sorts of characters, ending up with the musical comedy kind of thing in which he has found so much distinction—for that is ex- actly what (ames T. Powers has found. They wanted him here on the stage and 1 went into the wings to watch him. It is when Li comes into the Emperor’s palace with Yen How's mes- sage. The messenger finds himself in hot water and tries to escape. And oh, the deftness of it all, the clean, sure, workmanlike touch of it. Not a stroke too much in the picture, not a blur or a blot in the line. And the shading, as delicate and subtle as a bit of Coquelin comedy. “I think I've found out just what makes you, you,” I sald as the com- edian came off. “They all seem to speak of that,” he sald, “well?” “You take the funny thing serious- ly,” 1 hazarded. “Perhaps that's it,” sald Mr. Powers. “Thank you. I do. I really work awfully hard. And as to taking it seri- ously—well, take that last scene. Li is frightened. But I could get bigger laughs by making him in a bigger funk, exaggerating, with horseplay. But that is not what I want. I try to act the part as much as possible—" “Ah, it's the difference between bur- lesque and comedy—" . “Precisely,” he nodded. “And as I said, I've really worked very hard with the part—with everything. Would you think it took me just one week to find out how to fix this queue for the Irish policeman I do? Fact. You see”—illus- trating—‘"this way it slipped, that way it slipped, and this way doesn’'t look likke anything. But this”"—and Mr. Powers turned swiftly aside, then look- ed back at me the London bobby, Irish last pore of him, Chinese queue, suit to the last pore of him, in spite of the Chinese queue, suit and all. “It isn’t easy to be funny,” he en- larged. “Any one can make you cry— child stealing a loaf for the blind mother, and the rest, but it's work to be funny. And the difficulty is not to ex- aggerate. Take ‘The Circus Girl” In that, you remember, a small jockey is called upon to fight a huge, strong man. Now, in one cast they had a very small jockey, on the principle that if a small o COMEDIAN NOW DELIGHTING. LOCAL - AUDIENCES. | + man were funny up against the terrible Turk, a still smaller man would be fun~ nier. 'Twasn't. When I was the jockey and I took off my clothes it looked as though I might have a ghost of a chance against him. That was fun genuine. There was some suspense. I made up six times—getting paler and paler and (seemingly) smaller and smaller in the role.” “I'd like to have seen it."” “Wish you had,” said Mr. Powers cordially. “But what has helped me most, I think, is being able to write a little. I write most of my lines and almost all of my songs.” “And invent all of your business—" “Heap much,” Mr. Powers put it, in glib Li fashion. ““And the dances?” “I learned to dance in an English “Had so I ballet school,” he informed me. nothing to do for a while, studied.” And that has been it all through. The Powers is the genius for infinite painstaking, and I thought as I watched the automaton dance he went cff to do then with Margaret Mec- Kinney—an epic bit of grotesquerle— that it was good enough for most of us. e LOCAL PLAYHOUSES OFFER ATTRACTIONS OF GREAT VARIETY “San Toy" begins only its second (and last) week .at the Columbia to- morrow evening, but there are those who have seen it already a matter of three or four times. I have myself. It is, take it all round, the best made, best acted, best dressed musical com- edy that has been seen here. If you cannot enjoy “San Toy"” as James T. Powers, George Fortescue, Margaret McKinney and their confreres give it, you might as well die. Earth is not your home. And there is a perform- ance to-night, next Sunday night and ‘Wednesday matinee as extra oppor- tunities. “Glittering Gloria” follows. " Gk RS To-morrow evening the Majestic of- fers the flower of its people and the cream of the Oliver Morosco stock com- pany in Esmond's “When We Were Twenty-one.” Every one will be glad to renew acquaintance with Miss Amelia Gardner's charming Phyllis and Harry Mestayer’'s clever Imp, not to speak of the rest. P R Henry V. Esmond also holds the Al- cazar boards this week with his charm- ing and clever comedy, “The Wilder- ness.” el e “Fritz and Snitz,” a melange of merry musical nonsense, will be In- troduced to the California to-night by Mason and Mason, the popular German comedians. o e e The fine production of “Der Rastel- binder” at the Tivoll is meeting with the heartiest appreciation. L The Grand Opera-house continues the production of “Arizona,” which is seen here for the first time at popular prices. e Fischer’s knocks off a week or two for repairs and will afterward reopen with a new series of musical farces to be announced later. > Ry T “Paul Kauvar” knocks out Jeffries to-morrow evening at the Central. The plece is uw-y-.; {Evorl.ts, The Dumond Parisian Minstrels, great favorites here, will reappear at the Orpheum this week. AN The current Chutes biil contains five new acts, with Frank Stafford and Marie Stone in their sketch, “The Hun- ter's Game,” as leaders. By o M WENZEL KOPTA'S VIOLIN RECITAL IS A " NOTEWORTHY AFFAIR Let it not be forgotten that Wen- zel Kopta's viclin recital, of which I gave the programme last Sunday, will take place 2t Lyric Hall this after- noon. It will be notable in addition to the Kopta fiddling for the debut of Miss Maude Hohmann, a Californian girl who has recently returned here after a long course of study Iin the East. Miss Hohmann s a soprano, and will sing “My Heart at Thy Sweet Voice” (Saint-Saens), “Summer” (Chaminade) and “Spring” (Oscar ‘Weil). Gyula Ormay accompanies. - o Following is the programme of the farewell concert of the Sousa band at the Alhambra Theater to-night. It con- tains the new Sousa march, “Jack Tar,” and the new waltz for cornet by Herbert Clarke, both dashing num- bers. There will also be a matinee con- cert this afternoon, and all good band lovers will doubtless improve the op- portunity. The band is in fine fettle this year. Symphonic poem, ‘“Les Preludes” ..Lisst Cornet solo, “Valse Brillante”. ..Clarke Herbert L. Clarke, Suite, “In Foreign Lands™ - Moszkowskt (Spain, Germa Hungary. Valse for soprano. Preluds to “Second Rhaps % (a) ““The FI Chaminads (b) March «.Sousa Vielin solo, Hubay -Sousa The Dolmetsch combany is really to be here in the spring, and delighttul things may be expected from it. In bringing these people, whose entertain- ment must needs prove caviare to the general public, Will Greenbaum, w manages them, proves himself once again the true impresario. Mr. Green- baum has no great faith in the finan- cial drawing power of the little com- pany—their art is too exclusive to ap- peal to the multitudes, but for fun and love of music he brings them for us to hear. I think he will be mistaken as to the attractive power of the recitais. Their educational value and quaint beauty will insure at least the attend- ance of all the musicians hereabouts, and the novelty of the entertainment will certainly bring another large con- tingent. But an’ I prove false prophe., I know I shall see Mr. Green- baum sitting at the back of the house, beaming over “The Carman’s Whistle” on the virginals, or an Ariosto sonata for the viola d’amore, just as though there had been hundreds of people turned away. That is where your true impresario comes In, and in Wil Greenbaum we have one of the best. ¢ S Maurice Arnold, a pupil of Anton Dvorak, and the author of several characteristically American composi tions, is coming to San Francisco to spend the winter. Whether or not Mr. Arnold designs to crystallize Cali- fornia in a symphony is not known. His work so far has beea upon the lines of Dvorak’'s “New World” sym- phony, and it is said that it was to Mr. Arnold that Dvorak owed the idea of developing therein the characteris- tic negro themes. The Arnold “Plan- tation Dances” have received wide and honorable recognition both here and in Europe. Little Enid Brandt, the planist, is shortly to be heard from again; she will give a recital in Steinway Hall on the evening of November 3. The young lady presents the following very grown up programme, and her mother, who still directs her studies, assures me that the child’s capacities are at the programme’s level: Concerto, G minor ...Saint-Saens (All three movements.) Variations, F minor . (a) “Warum " and ‘‘Traumerel.” Aberds,” MINOF evvevesus ‘Etude,” "op. Theme and Nut Cracker” ““Frublingsra: Polonaise,” E major . @) b) @ + §:‘\\\\ | | | ONE OF C. P. NEILSON’S OLD MISSION BITS. | THE “KNOC All the “knockers” in San Francisco were not bred in art exhibits, but all art exhibits do breed “knockers.” If you don’t belleve it, just drop in at any of the art exhibits now on—say Wores’, or Dixon’s, or Hansen’s—and prick up your ears. If you happen to be on good terms with the principles of art, and in sympathy with its emotions, you'll gather a valuable collection of fool statements—uttered mostly by men, not women, this time, thank heaven, for women in matters of art are given rather to indiscriminate praise than to indiscriminate condem- nation. True, that is pretty bad, but it at least carries no sting with it, and there- fore is beyond the realm of villainy. But it's the man whose soul isn't big enough to admit the sunlight of un- derstanding that should, through the law of good usage, be made to hold his peace—because, forsooth, he pol- lutes the air and disrupts the pleasure of, others. And, by the way, just ask Xavier Martinez what he thinks about it. He can tell you a few interesting facts re- cently gleaned, and he tells them with a few fetching embellishments. Just ask him. e Speaking of Wores' exhibit now be- ing held at Claxton's, don’t go there in a hurry. It will only madden you. A pity that cymbals and senoritas and cigaritos are not part of the setting! It takes no absinthe frappe to trans- port oneself to “The Garden of Love” in old Granada, with the castinets tinkling from the moon-bathed bal- cony, and there to dream. And that “Moonlight in the Alham- bra” takes one gently by the hand through the terraced palace of kings, where love-sprites splash in perfumed fountains, in the soft blue of an Anda- lusian night. See it, good friend, see it, and its sixty-two brothers—sisters, mayhap, because of their exquisite beauty. Until November 17 we may . KER™ IN EVIDENCE AT LOCAL ART EXHIBITS —BY LAURA BRIDE POWERS wander at will through the gardens of fair Granada. ol ® It would seem that a Spanish renais- sance i3 upon us. Here's Francis Mc- Comas at home with his scenes from old Spain, but it is said that his land- scapes do not differ essentially from his famous California studies. As a matter of fact, old Spain is wonder- fully akin to new Spain—our own Cali- fornia—even as a child resembles the mother that cradled it. And so said the brown-robed friars a full century ago, as they wandered over the hills and valleys of Alta California to plant the cross and the ensign of the King. R Then there's C. P. Neilson at work upon beautiful bits of the Old Mis- sions—notably San Juan Bautista, with its vineclad buttresses, its famous old doorway leading into the ruined churchyard, its riotous garden with a gaunt white cross rising prophetically from a gay flower bed. © Neilson’s Mexican scenes are varied in character, and rather more ambitious than his earlier old Mission sketches. They all are exquisitely colored and idealized in treatment. b His latest work—and he's a busy lad— has been done in and around Monterey. Chinatown and the gray sand dunes are among these portrayals, among which ‘the most attractive to my untutored eye is a sand dune by the water's edge, at eventide, with a purple glow re- flected on the sand from the dying sun. Over the gray waste is a pink, green and purple splash of blossoms—a pretty potpourri of color. Gladness is a note of all Neilson's work. This clever young colorist has his studio at 420 Montgomery street, and, like others of his fellows, Is “at home” on Saturday afternoons. . . In the same building are many other interpreters of nature, notably Sydney J. Yard, the clever water colorist. Until recently Mr. Yard held council with the fragrunt fields and moss-hung oaks from his studio over the bay, but the metropolis called. This living together of the artists in one building, or one neighborhood, is just the thing to bring about a spirit of camaraderie so prolific of high endeavor. In Paris, and to a lesser degree in New York, this comradeship among artists is one of the dearest treasures of memory, for friendships thus rooted in a common soil bring out what is best in men and refine that which is gross. O D Douglas Tilden’s statue to commemo- rate the homecoming of the California volunteers is assuming shape. On Friday the committee charged with the matter inspected the model, reporting much gratification at its power and virility. Of this committee Mr. Phelan is chairman. oI Mies Tsabelle C. Percy, daughter of George C. Percy, has opened a studio at 318 Post street. With her is Miss Nellie Pearl, the clever young sculptress. P Lucky Martinez! Lucky chap to be driven back to his art-world, where he belongs. One of the cleverest men who ever came out of Hopkins is this same Martinez—an artist, a philosopher, and later a favorite pupil of Jerome in Paris. Good Mr, Martinez, -disciple of the mystic and high priest of idealism, forsake not again your art for gold. It is but a mirage, and not for artists such as you. T S H. P. Latimer —busy Latimer —has abandoned his redwoods for a time and brought home with him many sketches in the Slerras. The vieinity of Guerne- ville and Summit, near Tahoe, are here to be viewed by sea-level dwellers. Several of these will go to the fall an- nual -xhihmon. at l‘IODk.h'll. _ Canenasso has a new “note,” in tone color. “The Lone Oak,” near Tib- uron, shows a fine mingling of gold and purple, as the fading sun bestows his last rays on tree and under- brush. A slim string of a cloud bears a tinge of pink that stands out against the emblazoned sky. Below is a pur- ple gloom. FRRS s The Century Club is doing valiant service in the promotion of apprecia- tion of art. On Wednesday the club exhibited some pictures of the famous Rodan, likewise some work of local folk, not- ably Cadenasso. And speaking of Cadenasso, Paul Elder is showing some of his latest work, some mystic twi- light studles, with a grayish, misty at- mosphere. This mysticism bears the same relation to art that suggestion does to literature, and appeals only to him who hath been blessed with imag- ery. But why discuss him who lacks imagination when art's the topic—he who is barren of that greatest gift of the gods must forever remain without the realm of art, all of which is strong- 1y reminiscent of the story of Carlyle and the lad, to wit: The youth of artistic mind was vis- iting with the famous Scot at a sum- mer home outside of London whose gardens were famous for their beauty. Through the grounds coursed a gur- gling streamlet, widening into a lake, upon whose surface ' water lilies blecomed. “Oh,” exclaimed the youth, in artistic ecstacy, “what a beautifui lake! Look,” said he, “at those love- ly lily-pads.” With disdain, Carlyle looked at the lake, and then at the youth, and ex- claimed bitterly: “Dinna ye see the dead dog in it?” And thus it is with pictures. There are loads of Carlyles who are such realists that ideallsm is submerged in fact—which is in truth one of the tragedies of the soul. IR R The exhibition of Madame B. de Areales’ and Madame J. de Junosza's pictures at Philomath Hall on Mon- day and Tuesday was a success. The following Velazquez copies of Madame Areales received much at- tention from the visiting connoisseurs: “Infante Baltasar Carlos,” “Las Meninas,” “Las Hilanderas” (The Tap- estry Weavers). Among Madame J. de Junosza's best work is a copy of Leonar?o da Vinel's “Mona Lisa™ or “Joconda™ or “La Glo- conda,” the wife of Francesco del Glo- condo, one of the few undoubted pic- tures of Leonardo da Vinel, and one of the greagest portraits the world pos- sesses, These charming foreigners have their studio at 519 Van Ness avenue, where they will remain through the winter, —_——— Music for Wounds. Perhaps the strangest use to which music can be put is to stop the flow of blood from a wound. An army doc- tor noticed that when a wounded sol- dier was taken to within easy hearing distance of music hemorrhage was greatly reduced or stopped. Neither he rior others, who confirmed his obser- vations, could understand how this phenomenon was brought about, but it is now believed that the vibration of the alr produced by the music causes the patient to become faint, in which case the action of the heart is so con- siderably lessened that the overflow of blood is reduced. —Indianapoliv News. —_—e———————— A Premature Roast. A storehouse near Boston, which con- tained all the scenmery for Henry W Savage's forthcoming production of “Parsifal” in English, caught fire a few days ago, but, fortunately, the costly scenery was saved. While Walter Bur- bridge, general scenic artist for Mr. Savage, was watching the firemen fight the flames, a small urchin pulled Mr. Burbridge’s coat. “Say, mister,” he sald, “it's a little early to roast your show, alm't 1t?"— Harper's Weekly.