14 Mins.; One and Full Stage. Bob Fitzsimmons comes on for a monolog of the flowery type, telling of his early life, and some of the high lights in his history. Talk delivered with clenched fists. Telling how a football player smashed him in the nose early in life, and how, after that, he took a blacksmith apron and made gloves with which he learned to fight. He then hikes to the wings. At McVicer’s, Baron Richter, on the program, steeped out to announce a three round boxing bout between Bob and his son. Curtain goes up, Richter takes his place as timekeeper and out comes Young Fitzsimmons, pink and big and a fine figure of a man in the palest of blue tights. On comes Bob in lavender and they go to it for three rounds, with some vigor, landing on each other with right good will. Bob is always a drawing card, and curiosity to see his son, who is booked as the one who is going to come forward later and stop Jack Johnson, should make the act magnet. On the closing spot at the first show Monday night, it packed the house.
12 Mins.; Two. These musical entertainers have some new ideas. Act opens with girl coming on for song and a little dance. Man follows with violin and girl dances more. Then girl goes to piano and man offers some good numbers. Man has solo, playing Irish airs, and girl comes out as boy in green plush for an Irish dance. Next, some Scottish music and girl in kilts, closing with American patrol with girl in brown plush (still as boy) in Colonial regalia. Act needs speeding up. Lacks ginger. Not enough red fire at close.
This sketch was performed for the first time in 1882. It is old-fashioned, artificial at times, and the trick by which tears are wrung from the most hardened is as palpable as the players themselves, and yet it strikes home. It is a domestic tragedy showing how husband and wife, who still love each other, unconsciously drift apart, each one thinking the other careless and callous. Lady Gwendoline Bloomfield (Ethel Barrymore), after the loss of her child, turns to frivolous society for comfort, dawdling about with one Sir Anthony. Sir Geoffrey Bloomfield (Charles Dalton) is following in the wake of some Duchess or other. Husband and Wife seldom meet and a barrier seems to have grown up between them. They bicker and quarrel, when they do meet, and the house divided seems ready to fall. The woman, who has steeled her heart, and is ready to break the marriage tie to free herself from the mockery, is touched when she finds her husband has been sleeping in the nursery, which long since has been deserted by their only child. Coming from the opera, she decides to have a talk with Sir Geoffrey and asks him to get her some needlework that she may work for the Red Cross. By a mistake, while rummaging among parcels, he finds one containing two little silk shoes. And, herein are the tears. In the midst of the high quarrel the woman undoes the parcel, and, there before her eyes, are the shoes worn by the little feet that “have found the path to haven.” In the playing of this scene Miss Barrymore has perhaps never reached a higher mark. It hits the heart a blow that is irresistible. Mr. Dalton is effective as the husband, giving a fine, clean-cut performance.
17 Mins.; Full Stage. This manikin act, often confused with another act, and reviewed erroneously as such, is brand new in every particular, from the stage settings to the routine, and from subject matter to manipulation. The miniature theatre whereon the puppets dance, prance and cavort is handsomely set with a glittering background and has rich plush curtains and proscenium decorations. The act opens with persons entering the stage boxes to witness the performance of the manikins. When the curtain goes up a boy announcer comes on, and after displaying a card, runs off kicking the card, a good laugh. Then follows a neat little travesty on the modern society dance, admirably executed. “Mutt and Jeff,” next, alternate as tall and short men with ludicrous effect. Texas Nell, who performs after the circus manner on a horse, and puts him through his paces with all the aplomb of the real thing, is another novel feature. The act closes with the “Baseball Rag,” in which players representing famous teams come out for some very funny antics on the diamond. In this last bit the manikins are made to sing and talk, and this adds to the effectiveness. It is one of the neatest acts of its kind on the boards and is manipulated in a manner to please the most exacting. Closing the show at the Empress, it held the audience to the close, and was especially pleasing to the children.
12 Mins.; Full Stage. The act has many novel features and is one that affords much diversion. The paraphernalia used is out of the ordinary and the work of the five people is neat, natty and finished. They stand on their heads and dance against platforms. The act is startling in many respects.
22 Mins.; Full Stage. “Days of War” Mme. Yorska, protege of Bernhardt, made her first appearance in English in “Days of War” (by Maurice Joy) assisted by Jose Ruben. The scene of the little play is laid in a fashionable hotel in a European seaside resort. The story concerns a spy and how he is caught by a chorus girl from the Casino, a local playhouse. Mme. Yorska is seen as Laura, the Casino girl, who has been courted by Count Dalgo (Jose Ruben). There is a waiter (Theodore Doucet) who is in reality a secret service man on the trail of Count Dalgo, the spy. A maid (Eleanor Grayce) is also more or less concerned. It appears that Laura, who is under an assumed name, had known Count Dalgo in other days under his real name, and at that time had fallen in love with him. She is set to catch him by the secret service man. While waiting to give the signal which will send him to death, she discovers he is her former ideal, and this forms the crux of the playlet. In this big scene Mme. Yorska is given opportunity for some strong emotional acting. The act is talky and discursive and the plot is not always clearly defined. As a picture of what happens in war times, it is fairly effective. Mme. Yorska’s series of plays at the Fine Arts theatre was abandoned because of war conditions.
10 Mins.; One. Joe Carroll saunters upon stage and quarrels with the orchestra that goes on strike. He suggests he could sing any old song if he had a piano player. Hazel Hickery, dressed as a maid, in rear of theatre, says she can play, and is invited to the stage where she is hired. She plays a good ragtime number, and also for Carroll’s songs. Each one makes a change in costume. They close with “Poor Pauline” in which considerable action is injected, although not enough of the right sort. Carroll has a good stage presence and puts his stuff over in a bluff sort of way. Miss Hickey’s chief assets are a wealth of red hair and a talent for the piano. The act went fairly well at the first show Monday night. Miss hickey was apparently nervous. After the act has been worked into some semblance or smoothness it will be right for the middle-weight time.
10 Mins.; One. Stories in dialect, told with considerable unction, Miss Hight is a local product, lacking vaudeville experience. She has a fund of pretty fair stories, beginning with Irish tales and then German, also darky folk stories. Her voice lacks carrying power, and she needs stage training Monday afternoon the house was pretty well filled with friends. As a lyceum attraction who would do much better.
Princess Radjah and Co. followed, and danced her way around the audience and into their hearts, making way for Frank Gaby, who stopped the show. He opens as a photographer and gets a lot of comedy out of this bit, also impersonating an English lord and doing his specialty, the ventriloquial bit. His accomplished mannerisms of putting this original stuff over proves him a showman of high grade.
Everest’s humorous and famous monkeys closed, suffering badly through the exodus already begun and reaching the proportions of a stampede before the curtain rose on the final offering. The turn worked neatly and fluently to the ingratitude of receding backs.
