The evening world. Newspaper, May 3, 1913, Page 9

“Princess of the American| Stage’ Declares Her Vaudeville Ex perience Has Improved Her Acting and Given Her an Opportunity to Get Away From the Tired Business Man. | TAM PLAYING By AY BAIR Down” MMS aos, By Charles Darnton. UTSIDE, in the alley, sat that O silent ball player, “Slivers, the sad-faced clown. Inside, in one of those short-time dressing rooms, sat Miss Ethel Barrymore, princess of the American stage, lost to the Empire for a whole year that is ending willy-nilly or at any rate billieburkely. Vaudeville certainly has its con-| trasts. Rare old Sarah will come tripping along to the same place pest week with Joe Welch and the San Francisco Trio. It takes all kinds of people to make a “show. ‘This weck Miss Barrymore has per- formed two achievements by glori- fying a crook play, written by that amateur reformer, Richard Harding Davis, and bringing prosperity to the Palace Theatre. It's odd how the two-dollar manager sometimes lays into the hands of his loose- ange rival—a rival to be reckoned with when the name of Ethel Barry- more shines like a brilliant star over hia theatre. ‘This year there was no play for me— thet’s all,” said Miss Barrymore. “I was te have had one from Haddon Chambers in November, but, like many authors, he works slowly, and so by January only two acts had been fin- to fehed. There was nothing for m do but walt, Vaudeville gave me opportunity to wait pleasantly. So here I am and here I'll stay for a tow weeks more. Ofy tour in the vaudeville theatres from ooast to coast has been a tremendous experience for me. Ihave Mmproved greatly an a result of this experience. While it may sound funny to gay that vaudeville has worked an improvement in my acting, this Is nev- ertheless true. Not only have I learned a great deal, but I believe I have created ew audiences for myself—people who will come to seo me when I return to the dramatic stage In a new gies.” “When will that vo?" I inquired. ‘Wt’e awfully difficult to say at this time just what I am going to 4o,"| papers and try to keep up with what's Mig Barrymore anawered, with some] going on in the profession, but 1 must acting jn Barrie's wongertwi Lille play,” does pot act accordigg to sears eigna, | Head,” SL REMEMBER. WHAT Young Aciress Has Great Chance These Days, Says Miss Barrymore Freeuwoe “THe TIAGO WORKING MAW IS ALWAYS ow THE 508” y atala ‘A 7 > | hesitation, but I shall not stay away from my old public for another year. That much, at feast, I'm certain’ about, The diMficulty is to get a suitable play. |And, of course, Mr. Frohman loves English plays, No doubt he hopes to find one for me abroad. Meanwhile I am obliged to walt, No other manager has tried to lure me away from Mr. Frohman. There's a certain etiquetce about the relations of managers, or it may be there's a commercial under- standing among them, Don't you think She raised her big eyes tnnocently, and then turning them with truly fei inine anxtety upon Mr. De Zayas she straightened the charming disorder of her hair with @ pin snatched from her dressing table, You might just as well louk at a woman's feet as bring along an artist when you are trying to keep her mind on @ cert ject. “I'm afraid,” she interjected, that I'll be an awful sight in the picture you're going to prin Protests with and without gestures were hurriedly made, and Mies Barry- more dropped her hand as if hoping for the best. “It 1s only natural, perhaps, muned, “that Mr, Frohman shouid 1! plays that have been tried and not found wanting abroad, But it ts not al- ‘ways easy to remain patient. I'd love to go out by myself with u repertory that included at least one new play as well as one or two classics, I think the pub- le would come to see ma in them. But that's all in the back of my head—way back! I hardly dare think of. “Tt 18 encouraging, at the same time, to think that Miss Maxine Elliott aucceed- ed in managing herself and her theatre. To be sure, she 1s a splendid business woman, while I know nothing at all ‘of business, However, it might be pos- sible to enlist the icew of an able Heutenant to take change of that part of dt, mightn’t it?” ‘A whole army of “able lieutenants" skilled in the use of the checkbook and with a thorough knowledge of booking manoeuvres would no doubt dash into the field at a word from Miss Barry- more. "1 don't intend to drop behind,” she declared, “No one can afford to take that risk for long, I read the theatrical THE EVENING WORLD, SATU | “IR MOST VAUDEVILLE | | TREATRES YOU CAN BAT OW. THE MipeR” { | admit that things are happening too quickly for me I read of leading women on Broadway that I've never heard of, let alone seen. I suppose a manager reads a play written around a pretty girl, then saya to himself, ‘Mise S0-and-8o would look great in this part,’ and instantly sends for her. The Amer- fean stage to-day is giving the young actress the ‘greatest chance she has ever had. In England this is not the case, because there the field is com- paratively small, and only two or three young actresses are atall known. Marie Lohr, Pauline C1 and Phyllis Neil- son-Terry have had nearly all the luck. Miss Terry, for: one, was extremely for- tunate in getting the opportunity to play Juliet at seventeen. Such a chance that !s not Mkely ever to be offered here. Great Shakespearean roles are not given to the very young by Amert- can managers. The budding actress, however, never knows how soon she may be full-blown, She frequently blooms over night and then continues to flourish astonishingly.” Miss Barrymore's indulgent smile seemed to say “the more the merrier,” but it was gone in @ moment. “With every one, of course,” she re- flected, ‘the y must come first. Nothing would delight me more than to appear in one by an American author, I have had only two American plays, ‘Captain Jinks’ and ‘Her Sister,’ both by Clyde Fitch. I've read a great many othera, but all have been lacking in something—just what, it would be dit- ficult to say. It may be that they a: too superficial. A at many authors, it seems to me, try to be funny. How- ever, Eugene Walter and young Sheldon don't, They work with a purpose. Mr. Sheldon has written me about a play he's at work on now, and I hope to read it. Like every one else I want a BIG play,” she added laughingly, “but I would so much rather do one by an American than by a foreten author if T could find what I'm looking fort" Gympathetic authors to whom these ‘words may bring hope and perhaps in- epiration will probably lose no time in doing their utmost to compel Miss Barrymore to wear glasses before she ie many weoks older, a all fairly commercial,” she mitted, “and we all have to make ing: yet at the same time I think one should work for @ greater return than that of mere money. My work in the Vaudeville theatres has brought me more than that. Vaudeville audiences are keenly alert and wonderfully ;e- sponsive. Happily they do not inglude the tired business man. And the tired workingman is always on the job, If he's tired he doesn't show it and he gete the full measure of enjoyment from hin visit to the theatre. ‘The ‘Twelve-Pound Look’ went even better in vaudeville than it did in higher priced houses, I never grew tired of Playing {t, But the managers wanted something different, so T put on ‘Miss Civilization.’ @ometimes I have to put up my hand and feel that my hair te down to remember that I'm not still ene nn: | Mindness, haa turned tutor, He has re- iter and trainer, “Boozle Bandit” The Dog with a Tutor . Jasper, the wonderful dog trained by nounced the soclety of Presidente, so- college professors— former President Taft and Mra, Stuy- vesant Fish are his special frienda—to become the areful instructor of Boozle the Bandit. Boozle ts an obstreperous though amlable young bulldog, the property of Mrs. Blanche B. Robinson, who lives at No. 61 Weat @eventy-third street and tx a patroness of Mra. Jamca Speyer's New York League for the Pro- tection of Animals. Boozle'n father was Roderick Dhu, the famous English champton. Mrs, Robinson met Jasper and hia maa- Dixte Taylor, through the Animal League. Like every ono else, she was amazed at the remarkable un- derstanding between man and dog, When she learned that Mr. Taylor had taught Jasper to perform his feats without striking him a single blow she decided to turn over to them her “spoiled child" at home for educational purposes, For three weeks Jasper and Mr. Tay- lor hi been giving daily lessons to Boozle. The three have worked together elety women and from 1 to 7 every afternoon, of course with frequent intervals for rest. Mr. | Taylor has been principal of the school, ; |no to speak, but he has had a most con- aclentious and able assistant in Jasper. The two dogs are on the friendliest terms, and Mr. Taylor himself gives Jasper credit for the success that has attended the m cated exercises, “For instance “T wanted ‘Boorle to wheel a doll's go-cart with ‘his front paws, I tried my hardest to make him understand what he must do, He couldn't see it’ at all, Jasper at watching, Suddenly he got up, at- tracted Roozle's attention with a look, and went through the trick himself, It's play to him. He did this several times, and then and only then did Boo- ale make an effort. “Jamper is invaluable at preserving discipline. Mra, Robinson warned me of what I found to be the truth—that Boosle was a spoiled baby. Hi eight monthe old, and until rec hadn't learned the meaning of the word ‘obey.’ There was nothing at all vi- cious about him, but he was brimming with mischiet t first it was almost imposatble to t him to concentrate on any trick, He'd make a half-hearted effort and ‘then look at Jasper and me as much as to say, ‘Oh, let's not bother!’ Then Jasper would go up to him and almost say in @o many words, ‘Old fellow, t's up to us to do thie and we might es well get It over with.’ I am ponitive that the dogs communicated and that Jasper ‘tipped off’ the other as to the beauty of obedience," From a harum-scarum, wilful rogue Boozle han developed in three weeks into a dog who “minda.” And he has a fine repertory of stunts, He will hold a pipe in his mouth, as bis picture shows do will sit down, sit up, stand and be “dead dog" according to the word of command? He will look out of the window, clone the door, jump through a hoop, He will hit the keys of 4 plano or typewriter, push a doll car- —_—— RDAY, MAY 8, 1913. WHO'S LOONEY IN NEW YORK NOW? John Armstrong Chaloner Lashes City Its Rich, Rotten, Its Dances Debauches. ona PLEASURE FEVER AND é Adu “FRIENDSHIP AMONG THE RicH 1S AS UNREAL AS A GOLD BRK” GUE Serre oF trem Tet Musics NERY ence ® “DRUNK UNDER THE TARLES* Writing Specially for The Saturday Evening World, He Says New York Is Unreal in Everything—Friendship a Gold Brick, Pleasure a Fever and Ague, Man- ners Inexpresibly Vulgar. John Armstrong Chaloner, brother of ez-8herif’ Bob Chandler of Duchess County, lawyer, traveller and keen critic of men and affairs, holds the unique distinction of being a man legally insane in New York and legally sane in Virginia, his present place of resi- dence. Thia ts a distinction of which Chaloner is decidedly proud. He was once confined in Bloomingdale—sent there aa the reault of @ conspiracy on the part of ha enemica, Chaloner always main- tained—but he escaped from the madhouse and finda himself secure in Virginia because it te impossible to extradite an escaped lunatic. He changed his name to Chaloner, the anctent form of the pa- tronymic, after he got away from the asylum. A strange book on “Hell” and a collection of poems under the title “Scorpio,” recently published, represent Chaloner's literary efforte. “I Resigned from All My New York Clubs in Disgust and To-day I Don't Call One Solitary Man There My Friend.” Manners are another unreality of New York life, eo unreal as Phantom like te be nonexistent, Read the euthentic press of the debauches that most dinner dances nowadays become, through the fault of the hostess but owing to the vulgar nouveau rich who make up so much of, modern New Yi Please remember that 1 am blood relotive to the enly creator of the Four Hundred, and I know, Young blackguards scratching matches upon white ‘walls, burning tapestries with cigarette butts, Girting with the ladies’ in the dressing rooms, and @nally falling asleep dead tables. Above fs not a portrait of a debaach tn the time of Nero, bet of in New York’s Four Hundred fn the time of Joba D. Rechefeller, (Oopyright, 1918, by John Armstrong Chaloner) Some Sonnets by Mr. Chaloner. - From “Boorpio.’* Copyright by J. 4. Qhaleaer. The Devil's Horseshoe. | ™*¥4t, Me toms ee wentere tom, & fecund sight for a philosopher— Mich as Goloonta’s mine tn leesons | "4 “ke ® Gruaten Berle geste Ree Fs Ffe¢ By John Armstrong Chaloner. THE MERRY MILLS, COBHAM, Va., May 1. Bince the Evening World desires to know my views upon some of the unrealities of New York life, in view of its notice of my book of sonnets, many of them satirical, “scorpion” perhaps, I had as well preface my re marks by stating my credentials for passing judgment upon New York. I was born there fifty-one years ago come the tenth of October, 1918, in shadow of the old Astor Library literally, in Lafayette place. 1 was educated in New York City by the Astor family tutor, the late William H. Wilson, graduate of Columbia University, who had tutored my mother, and some years after tutoring me tutored the late Col. John Jacob Astor, and ended his days as an attache of the Astor Library. After four years at St. John’s Military Academy at Ossining-on-Hudeon end two years at Rugby School in England thereafter, I apent three years at Columbia University, taking my A. B. degree in that time and my A. M. the next year, and being admitted to the New York bar at the end of my fifth year of eteady sojourn in the city with “the Great White Way.” The Viocks on Fifth avenue from about St. Patrick's Cathedral north were covered with rocks and goats and squatters’ shacks, 1 sailed ematl boats made of emptied boxes of fig paste or other confections while going my peripatetic rounds with my learned tutor in the puddles in the vast i ; rere— ‘That gem-bedissen'’a “horseshoe” at vacant waste from Fifth avenue to well east of Madison and as far north a the People’s ] as you like, So New Yorkers see that I am qualified to speak, having Roplete with costly hage and matrous anes vous Regeninens Sn8 gots. cate grown up with the big town. Coming now to the unrealities of New York life: ‘The only loss I am at over sald proposition 1s to find @ few realities in New York life, for without deep racking of brain and memory not a solitary pleasant reality comes to mind touching it. ‘The solid reality about New York life is the lust for lucre, About the reality of sald lust there can be no possible doubt whatever. I forgot there {s one other solid reality about Now York life, and that fs the solidity of the nightsticks borne by the finest uniformed ruffians in the entire length and breadth of the civilized world. 1 allude, of course, to the falsely al- leged “Finest.” J nearly had my kneecap fractured by a nightatick in the hands of “Clubber” Williams, as the deposed ex-Tenderloin Police Cap- tain Alexander S. Williams was affectionately dubbed by the men he'd clubbed, Now to come to the unrealities of New York life. Friendship i unreal theré as the average gold brick of commerce, |I never injured a human being in Now York. Relonged to more firet class jelubs than any man in my set before I resigned from all my New York jclubs in disgust, and yet to-day I don't count one solitary man my friend in that whole swarming hive of humanity, Gotham. I had friends, but they were old men, and are all dead men of a previous generation. Men of this generation In New York don’t know even what the word To Mammon there do they thei hom- age pay: , @pangied with jewels, satins, eilks and lace. w— 4 muréer here ond theve and thea a rape— 5 Ana bold faiz chamse of wlthmate ‘You're in too ead a plight, believe me, encape, doar, Bzceptions te eald rule exist, “tis tran, For plaudits to have aught bute false| Wo such exception doth exist t= you, Columbia. “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” I do not riage, pray, shake hands, fetch gloves or handkerchief from another room, re+ move a man's hat from hiv hea And he will do (hese things at Mr. Taylor's commant | mistress of her secretary or anybody who orders. This shows Wat he really understands what ie sald to him and L merely but for his |friendsbip means. What | say apples only to the rich and professional ring} land bourgeois or shopkeeper class. Fhe eheilew ‘aiang ef: onentanses % Oppression. Among laboring men and longshoremen, truck drivers and the like, |gne onnuae at your soldiers all men anne oe oe On | friendship is as real as it was in the aeye of Damon and Pythias. know; Ana lo0s'd the Sery Seodgutts of my | But the rich man Is rotten, ‘Their daring and their patience alt tongue. Another unreallty of New York {# pleasure. Pleasure tn Now York {s poles Whe otis Nehind me © Bo peaen tae Your ‘lors’ markmanship full well| Uanlock’d the fetters that hed hops @ doth show qumb Mow accurate thelr discipline hath The body free, them was the tongue been, onehain’ay Pris But Justice ta thy land hath gome The bedy ‘peisond, them the aoneys rans So, br nothing more nor less than fever, fever and ague thrown in, Fever in the mad sweat to enjoy, ague in the cold sweat that followa the failure to attain enjoyment—the cold sweat @f disgust, satioty, if not remorse, and a