24 Mins. (Special Drops and Setting). In their newest vaudeville offering, “The Masher,” Mr. and Mrs. Carter DeHaven are getting further away from singing and dancing. In fact, the entire strength of “The Master” rests on the dialog between the diminutive pair and the “situations” arising from the young stage door Johnny’s determination to show the actress a good time. There are several song numbers, to be sure, and well handled in the usual DeHavenesque style; yet they are secondary considerations in the summing up of the act’s impression. In “one” Miss Parker, looking younger and prettier than ever, is singing front stage. Carter interrupts from the box. She promises to meet him at the stage door and go out for the cats. A stage door drop then is used. Carter does a song and dance while waiting and also chins the stage doorman. He and Flora then taxi to a quiet restaurant room in “three,” where Flora proceeds to make Carter’s roll like a thimbleful of ashes. Here the DeHavens sing two numbers, the most effective and snappy being the “Marriage Is a Grab Bag.” This is a neat, gingery little conceit, with the DeHavens and the waiter, doubling as the preacher, doing a trotting dance around and off the stage in bridal procession. For the end, following their ejection from the private dining room because they were not married, the masher takes Miss Parker home to New Rochelle. She enters and does a disrobing “bit” before a transparent window. The masher, broke, sings a little soliquoy and starts to walk back to the city as a lightning and rain effect is used in “one.” The act is away from anything previously offered by the DeHavens. It’s light and airy but sufficiently molded to give satisfaction. DeHaven is the accredited author, but the song, lyrics and music sounded suspiciously like Gene Buck and Dave Stamper.
18 Mins.; Full Stage (Special Set).
Title: Classed as a “tank art” through having a tank upon the stage. Capt. Sorcho’s vaudeville turn, removed from Coney Island, where it was a concession for a couple of seasons, looks good enough to go over the circuit once an interesting exhibit. It dwells almost wholly upon the equipment of a deep sea diver, and in a measure, as far as the limited tank will permit, gives an idea of a diver at work at the bottom of the ocean.
11 Mins.; One. George L. Moreland announces he will answer any question on baseball since 1846. Three-fifths of the act is devoted to still pictures of baseball of other years, with some photos of prominent people connected with it. The remaining time is submitted to the audience for questions. Monday night at Hammerstein’s but two important questions were put: the first, how much does Christy Matheworn get? Mr. Moreland answered the amount had not been announced, but it was supposed to be $15,000. The next was which team would win the world’s series. He replied that is not yet a record, but in past history of baseball, the Bostons had never lost a world series they contested for. In a gathering of baseball fans, Mr. Moreland would come in handy and be enjoyed. An elderly man, who not doubt had stored up a world of records and statistics, his turn is not a vaudeville one, and not for vaudeville, in or out of the baseball season. If he continues to entertain the public in this way, on the variety stage, he should employ plans to be certain of comedy on the questions at each show.
The Four Marx Brothers then came and scored their usual hit for a flock of extra bends. The act is playing the entire week at the Fifth Avenue. The elder Marx had to beg off with a few words to permit Herman Timberg’s entrance, who, despite the succession of comedy hit turns accounted for himself per always.
Milt Collins made his entrance to some departing clientele. No great interval passed before his audience was almost in convulsions. This bland imitator of the deceased Cliff Gordon is timely in his monolog, which is punctuated now and then by a few jokes which might be cut out for the benefit of an equal number who might take offense.
Brown, Gardner and Barnett opened following the pictorial. The latter held nothing startling, the audience passing it up in anticipation of lights and the opening turn. The dancing of the couple merits praise for their effort rather than their grace. The pianoist scored with the house in his own specialty while the other make the change.
Billy Duval and Merle Symonds had no difficulty at all in making the deuce spot a pleasure. Miss Merle was a trifle indistinct in her enunciation of the opening song, but is to be admired for her agility in dancing, as her partner evokes admiration for his nonchalant manner. Miss Merle had a little too much color for a too white brow, and appeared at a disadvantage for inability to make up. A fault easily remedied. The “Extra Dry” act in third spot showed plenty of class, speed, effective dancing and costuming, which is very pleasing to the eye. The lady playing the school ma’am scored an individual hit with her drunk scene, walking off with a well deserved hand. The turn moved with precision, spirit and a tempo, well sustained throughout, finishing to a dozen curtains, while the last song was encored to its rise and descent.
Marshall Montgomery ventriloquized himself with customary effectiveness. His material has been augmented by making stock of the White Sox players and other current bits. All found a willing response until he finished to laud [sic] applause on six feet curtains.
Chapelle and Stinette, following, produced two voices that filled every part of the house. They sing with feeling and animate the lyrics. The reception following was deserved, and the colored team further obliged the house by giving an impression of Jack Norworth and Nora Bayes in a version of “Mandy.”
The full stage accorded Sullivan and Scott to spill the jest of domestic relations between a husband who was waiting for a “winner,” and a wife for whom he would some day go out and get a job is truly a funny slice out of life. The act arrived in third spot, offering a division in entertainment that was billed just right.
