McKay and Ardine held the next-to-closing spot with their former vaudeville offering. George kidded and clowned as usual, a whole lot of his fly stuff getting past the Fifth Avenue buunch [sic]. New touches were “Broadway Rose,” a ballad offered seriously by McKay as an encore. The latter was in a clowning mood for he walked on during the opening of “Going Up,” which closed the show, and after clowning a bit walked off with a tag line.
Stevens and Lovejoy, in a dancing conceit, got over nicely. Both are good steppers and have quite some production, with two special drops and a pretty gold-and-blue cyclorama. The act contains an idea that requires all the scenery to unravel and winds up in a fast dancing double in the full stage set. The dialog is mostly in rhyme and tends to slow up the action considerably between dances. In an effort toward novelty speed has been sacrificed most of the 15 minutes running time being occupied with the rhymed unfolding of the story.
Up to 9:40 the only real hit had been that scored by Walters and Walters, man and woman ventriloquists. They scored in a regular way, the house forcing them back after the lights had gone down and up again, with Mr. Walters having a sensible little speech to hand out.
The Walters have a pleasing novelty for an act of its class. It’s uncommon for a double turn in ventriloquism, and especially with one a woman, while there is a boy dummy that rides a bike and the woman leads a “walking” dummy (girl) by the hand. This makes the novelty. Neither of the couple snatches the head off of the respective dummies to allow the audience to see they had not deceived. That’s another ventriloquial novelty. The talk is brief, the singing is done in the childish was as befits kid dummies, and the man, of pleasing appearance, gets hearty laughs when smacking his dummy for breaking in on the other’s song.
Miss Walters is personable and of equal help to the turn. It’s a certain No. 2 for the biggest, and can take care of a better spot in the other houses.
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.
The Ziegler Girls, with Yorkes’ Symphonists as a background, held the house in the closing spot and did the same for the 19 minutes they were on. The girl, did four numbers, with selections by the band interspersed also a dance by the male assistant which got over nicely. The act is dressed well, but the girls are in evident need of touching up in just how to handle themselves a decidedly lack of grace being noticeable at times and especially was symmetry missing is a waltz number by one of the girls and the boy. The band as a six-piece affair, did well enough is so far as its music was concerned and helped in dressing the stage.
Helen Trix and Sister worked quietly, and with four songs had enough left over to return for one more. The girls pleased mightily with their voices, but seemed to have a little difficulty while dancing, though there wasn’t much of that. It’s refreshing to hear a singing act get away from the stereotyped routine of published numbers now and then.
The rube monolog by Sam Hearn landed without a bump, making the violin bit at the finish unnecessary for this one particular performance, but which nevertheless did detect from that which had gone before. Mr. Hearn’s political speech showed somewhat of a similarity to that offered by Lew Dockstader, but either is certain as Nov. 2 isn’t so far away.
An even running eight-act bill for the first half that got away nicely, due to Sansone and Delita, and maintained its speed. No one act could be mentioned for standing out above the others. Rather, it suggested team work on all sides, with each taking their turn at helping the performance along, the total score showing the evening had not been in vain. Decidedly just the opposite.
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.
