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The next was a tragic thing. It was carded as the Gordon-Russell Trio, ringing up in a purple spot with garish second-hand drapes spotted with profile parrots and a man in what may have been a costume singing what might have been a song. At the right stood a lady with a rose in her teeth, a la Suratt. The first look was the tip-off. It was one of those home-made acts, staged by the family piano teacher. The man blew and the lady did an operatic number, every gesture denoting the novice. Either through nervousness or lack of range, she muffed the entire lower half of the register. On romped another girl, probably her sister, in a Spanish dance which proved she belonged with the act. The bender, though, came when the man returned in a Tuxedo outfit with tan shoes, and rendered a lyric, also rended [sic] it. That brought the second girl back for a toe dance so outlandishly awkward that even the unlettered hot polloi laughed.
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Variety Magazine, LVIII: 29 October 1920