Gene Greene

Singing and musical comedy.

Gene Greene, who was one a village superstition here, and who for years dropped through into obscurity came back. Greene slipped over a surprise hit after a slow start. The start should be cut down, as he gets going presently and then runs 29 minutes, which is at least 10 too man. In dinner clothes, white face, he dawdled out three or four numbers. Then a girl in a box (Mrs. Greene) sang a ballad while the center flap of the drop came out to reveal Greene blacking up and donning a low-comedy costume. He then came back and mopped up with a hophead number called "Shanghai," grisly, but impressive, after which he let loose some novelty comedy lyrics that match any songs Eddie Cantor ever corralled. One called "Johnny's in Town" is a home run of the "That's the Kind of a Baby" order, and he followed with three more that banged in. He asked the audience for selections, which he might well have eliminated, too. The act was, with its several errors of judgement, one of the big singles of the season, at that. One strange note in the proceedings came through the presence at the piano of an accompanist in the full uniform of a U.S. Army first lieutenant, puttees, bars and all. It was a strange sight, this epitome of what we have worshiped so ardently with the most fervent patriotic passions of an aroused nation, playing chords at a peaceful piano for a blackface entertainer. He played no solo and made no overtures for recognition, merely officiating as any other pianist would have, and half the time out of the lights entirely.

Variety, 53:10 (01/31/1919)