Jack Wyatt and his Scotch Lads and Lassies closed, doing better in the way of keeping in the audience than most turns in the spot, losing a few, but delaying the majority. A stage wait which seemed unnecessary following a long act in “one” at the curtain raising helped to start the few who escaped. The act has never been a sensation here, but it served as a better than average closer, with its noise, display of special scenery an 8 people in Highland regalia.
Demarest and Collette, opening with fiddle and cello, very serious and straight, went that way until the man, for no reasons at all, set his cello against the chair and did the first of his howling falls. In this the program matter, tipping off that it was a comedy act, hurt the surprise. The start is palpably for an impression to heighten the ludicrous aftermaths, and therefore it might be wise to mask it in the billing by at least double entendre descriptions, such as “Strings and Stringers,” instead of “Trifling Talk, Fancy Fiddling and a Careless “Cello.” In later minutes the woman played “Humeresque” in a manner to tear the heart out, and is both a great violiniste and the owner of a great violin. The trick stuff, the clowning, the pluperfect playing and all made up a grand next-to-closing act; it could have doubled its stage time easily and held concentration and welcome.
Bartholdi’s Birds opened the show, screeching, flashy and a regular cockatoo act, with everything else that goes with it, and patriotic curtain music. The birds are marvelously trained. The man and woman exhibit perfect showmanship for opening act positions.
Resista closes, girl they can’t lift ballyhooed by a well groomed woman, and for a finale eight men with a derrick can’t budge her. Held them in solid. Audience exits talking about her.
“The Fall of Eve” billed as a comedy by Arthur Eckersley cast composed of Mabel Cameron, Alan Devitt and C. Carroll Clucas, proves a travesty. A drape set of an artist’s studio is revealed, with artist waiting for the girl and his aunt, visited by a doctor friend who reveals that artist is a hound with the ladies. Knock on door, enter girl – Eve- who has lost her way in dark hall, asks for suite 16, backs out, does a Brody downstairs (Offstage) carried back, gets fit of aphasia, wakes up with arms around artist, says “My Husband!” with “Where am I?” Motion picture fadeout with artist. Aunt never shows up. Nobody knows what it’s all about. The two men clown on the curtain, unable to repress sheepish expression. Audience yawns.
Koban, the showmanly Jap, with two boys new to his act, held solidly and lived for two bows after the final curtain of the show. The gorgeous oriental production hypnotized the usual walkers-out and they remained to see a carking run of balancing, tumbling and sensational human Risely.
Bessie Wynn, youthful and melodious, followed with fresh songs and sweet stories. Her stories were very well taken. “Kismet” was the high spot of her songs.
Herbert Clifton picked up the sagging threads. This man is a strange mixture. He has the voices of a feminine impersonator and of a longshoreman. He hoaks [sic] and he burlesques and he satirizes broadly, yet he wears gowns that are a challenge not only to Julian Eltinge but to Valeska Suratt; at times his work is serious and rises to art. At other times it is low, through never low-down. He got woof laughs on his comedy, perfect concentration on his straight endeavors and a blaze of appreciation at the finish and after the encore – a complete success.
Rasso, a big full stage juggling and spectacle act of the type not seen much since before the war – most of the stars of that type having been interned – opened powerfully with plenty of Continental hokum and difficult head balancing of props. Rasso is very blonde and Central European in dialect, appearance and method. He is assisted by a buxom women assistant. One feat was balancing a table covered with lamps and things, set on a perpendicular board, all resting on Rasso’s dome, which brought the hand.
Olson and Johnson, two boys that started in the Chicago cabarets, held the next to closing spot with their comedy singing and piano playing. The boy at the piano has sure got ‘em. Doing a regular Jack-in-the-box while presiding at the ivories, besides furnishing the comedy for his singing partner. The singing member could be a little more careful as to his clothes, as when he stepped out Monday matinee his coat sleeve was split under the arm, which detracted from his efforts.
