Kennedy and Kramer, opening, were preceded by a songster (not billed), who, with the aid of the stereopticon slides, melodied [sic] “Tired of Me” across the foots, encouraging enough for the audience to take up the chorus, The opening turn did not register at all with the introductory song, but stirred up the dust by some exceptionally fine buck and wing steps. Their precision in the concluding dance won them a big hand.
The house again proved that when Ben Bernie, who followed Miss Carus and was next to closing, went through his most enjoyable act. Mr. Bernie talked his was along until time to play the fiddle once more, when he asked the audience to pick up their airs. After playing a couple Mr. Bernie stopped, to talk again it seemed, but someone somewhere hollered, “Keep on playing,” and Mr. Bernie did. Bernie has a pleasing stage presence that sends his talk across far stronger than it really is. He’s a kidder, besides, with the violin and thinks more of a laugh apparently than he does of a good notice in the Musical Courier. That’s what made him a talking violinist. Some have danced while playing a violin. That’s awkward. Others just play the violin. That’s musical. Bernie just holds the violin and talks. That’s salary.
Emma Carus was the headliner, and politely inquired during her turn if any one had passed chloroform among the audience. Later Miss Carus found no one had, when the house applauded her hardworking dancing efforts. Otherwise, Miss Carus and the 5th Ave. didn’t appear to agree, nor did her pianist, Walter Leopold, get along with them any better with his piano work and songs. Miss Carus may have injured her standing in the first song when she lyrically stated she had lost 50 pounds. That sounded the truth when Miss Carus first used it, but now she should have that line re-written. It might have caused the audience to wonder how Miss Carus looked with the original 50, and while thinking it over they seemed to lose track of the turn, especially the talk, brightly current but delivered by Miss Carus as though she knew where the punches were. But they weren’t – at least before that mob, which won’t fall for red fire or crossfire unless it is handed to them as they think it should be.
Rhoda Bernard took up the running, opening intermission, getting little with two published numbers. Her third was a “wop” song, the dialect being off. Her dialect with the finale, a Yiddish comedy lyric, was better, though it was not especially well chosen. Miss Bernard will fare better with a brighter routine and something newer.
Swain’s Cats and Rats ran third, proving amusing. Up to the time this turn closed with the comic boxing bout between two tabbies there was very little stirring. The “bout” is a smart bit of animal training and the pussies will grab a smile from anyone.
It was Bob Calvert and Tony Shayne who were spotted next to closing. Theirs is a straight singing routine, the men duetting throughout, with a dash of action inserted here and there. With “Oriental Chinatown” they got into stride and followed up well enough with “Minnie-Ha-Ha.” The men jazzed up “Manyana Land” for a closer and could have encored.
Winston’s Water Lions and Diving Nymphs disapproved the general conception that closing acts are cues for a premature “good night,” and held them to a soul. This aquatic turn is in a class by itself and worthy of the feature billing accorded it.
Arthur and Morton Havel (Morton formerly was simply designated as the “Co.” in the former skits) have a bright little conception in “Suits,” suitable for either “one” or “two.” Arthur does a $14 hand-me-down suit model and the immaculate Morton is the {$55?} dandy. They step out of their positions in the windows for a line of chatter preceding the old standby, the boxing scene with the “cissy” turning on the “tough” Arthur. The finishing song is weak and should be replaced. There’s less of the knockabout and more of the studied artistry in Arthur’s style now than of yore.
Jack Rolls and Baby Royce made no pretense at camouflaging the reason for their presence, and after getting the conventional ditty off, entered into a stepping routine that left ‘em hungry for more. Admittedly nimble with the pedal extremities the act’s value is further enhanced by the likely Miss Royce’s free and easy eccentric work and acrobatic stepping. The pair could not gainsay the gallery hounds insistent extra recall. For the deuce spot the team is a winner.
[New act] Juggling, 8 mins; one. Special. W.C. Fields must have been the inspiration for this juggling act as the man, who supplies the action in the turn has certainly copped some of Field’s mannerisms. “Nolan” announces the girl assistant, who does just about as much that implies.
Going through a regular routine with intermediate stabs at comedy, the man put over an average opening bit adding a few new twists to some of the tricks, but failed to live up to the advance dope, as programmed, “The Jesting Swede.”
