16 Mins.; Full Stage. After all is said regarding the modern dances and their exponents there is only one conclusion to be arrived at and this is that dainty Mae Murray is without a doubt at the top rung of that branch of entertainers. It seems a strange fact that the three most famed of all the women who have risen through the modern dance all worked in the chorus of the same show about six or several years ago. It was “The Merry-Go-Round,” at the Circle. Joan Sawyer and Florence Walton were show girls, while little Mae Murray was just one of the merry-merry. This week at the Palace with Jack Jarott as a partner Miss Murray is showing all that there is that is new in the modern dance. They have shown good taste in eliminating the usual banjorines from the colored orchestra made up of eight musicians culled from Europe’s orchestra. There are two violins, bass, ‘cello, drums and two pieces of brass. One number which the musicians offered between the second and third dances was heartily applauded. Miss Murray and Jarott are doing four dances. All are different from anything that has been shown and the stepping in two of the numbers was as nifty as anything that has been shown by anyone anywhere. Opening with a waltz, prettily done and well rehearsed, the team next do what they term “The Pidgeon Trot” (evidently named in honor of Eddie Pidgeon). This is as clever a routine of steps as ever shown in ballroom dancing. It is followed by “The Sunshine Frolic,” a combination of Greek classical dancing, the Bacchante a modern waltz. A fast Fox Trot was the closing. It has a number of steps that will never be popular for the regulation ballroom steppers and there is but little chance that any of the other exhibition folk hereabouts will try to “copy” the routine, for it looks exceedingly difficult from the front. Miss Murray was charmingly gowned, and the costume she donned for the final number is a most striking affair. It is a mandarin coat of gold cloth under which she wore black bloomers that came to her ankle tops. Jarott has grown slightly stouter since last at the Palace, but he has also improved as a dancer. It may be that in Miss Murray he has a partner more suited physically to Jack’s proportions and therefore he appears to better advantage. The act was easily the hit of the first half of the show at the Palace Monday night. At its conclusion Miss Murray was almost smothered in a shower of floral offerings.
“The Cowboy Caruso.” Bill Pruitt has a rather high baritone voice which he can easily switch to a true soprano. This makes his act a rather freak offering that will go as a novelty. He makes his appearance in the regulation cowboy costume, complete in detail even to the little bull tag that hung from the pocket of his blue shirt. Monday night he was a near-riot Immediately after the opening of the bill. He is offering four numbers, all of the ballad type. There are not new, but particularly well selected for his voice. His opening number is “White the Rivers of Love Flow On,” which he renders as a straight baritone. In the chorus of his second number he suddenly shifted his voice from a baritone. In the chorus of his second number he suddenly shifted his voice from the baritone to a soprano (not a falsetto), and struck each note as true as through that were his natural singing voice. This immediately won him a place with the audience and the finish of the number brought hearty applause. The numbers which followed included “Mother McCree” and “In the Garden of My Heart.” The latter was sung with a duet effect that pleased. For an encore he is using “The Land of My Best Girl.” Pruitt holds to his cowboy character throughout. With an awkward walk and a rather bashful stage presence, he makes his way into the heats of his audience. He is a novelty male single that will fill to advantage any big time bill.
22 Mins.; One. George T. Stallings, the miracle man of baseball, came to bat at the Palace Monday night with nothing but a prayer and a few pieces of note paper. The marvellous smile, of which page after page has been written was a very nervous person when he appeared before the Palace audience, so nervous a mere sneeze from the gallery would have sent him right through the roof. But nobody sneezed and nobody wheezed and George went right through his little task of earning that $1,500 like a major, once he wound up, and finished the expected hit amid loving cups, floral pieces, and the usual introductions that go along with the engagement. Stallings formally apologized for his presence and after announcing he was totally unprepared for the ordeal, proceed to tell of his troubles with the Boston Braves and his fun with the Athletics. He delivered his little talk in a nice even tone, continually pacing up and down the stage. A fine looking type of athlete, he is brimful of personality and with a few more shows should overcome the nervousness and proceed to develop into an attraction. Always remaining, of course, in the classification of freak acts. Occasionally he provoked a rousing hand during the little spiel, but threw a damp chill over the assembled fans when he rebuked them for their fickleness. Needless to say the house was packed to the rafters. Johnny Evers, the utility man for vaudevilling baseball players, was introduced, and at the finale, Bozeman Bulger presented Stallings with a loving cup. Stallings makes a good pulling card and while he is a bit wild in control just now he will undoubtedly become accustomed to the glare of the footlights and soon be able to get them over the plate quite as well as Mike Donlin, Rube Marquard or even “King” Cole.
19 Mins.; Full Stage. “A Turn of the Knob” For Louise Dresser’s return to vaudeville she has selected an entertaining little comedy skit with a splendid idea and a fine line of dialog and one that should keep her continually playing, for Louise Dresser is popular wherever she is known. The story is of a prominent city investigator (Geo W. Howard) who is due to play a principal role in a wedding 15 minutes after the rise of the curtain. The scene is his apartment on the 10th floor of a hotel. His future brother-in-law (Edward Langford) rushes out for the ring and during his absence an insurance solicitor (Miss Dresser) gains entrance through a ruse and proceeds to talk the bridegroom into a policy. Having just completed a searching investigation of the local insurance companies, his name to a policy would be a valuable asset to any firm, and the solicitor is anxious. In his attempt to escape, the door-knob becomes loose and is pried off, leaving them marooned. Immediately afterward, while endeavouring to reach the office via the phone, he breaks the telephone wire. To be brief, the girl finally secures his promise to the application just as the other chap returns. Finding the couple alone in the room the visitor demands an explanation, and although unaware of the promise or its meaning, insists it to be fulfilled. Incidentally the brother-in-law recognizes the girl as his ideal of a wife and upon the men’s exit, locks her in to await his return when he purposes to resume his interrupted business of making love. Langford is a bit weak for his particular role, his enunciation falling short, although as the part is of minor importance he passes muster. Miss Dresser looks better in this role than in any previous vaudeville effort and scored an individual hit. Mr. Howard fills his role nicely. The piece works jerky in sections, but should eventually develop speed and accumulate strength with playing. It pulled one of the hits at the Palace and well deserved to.
12 Mins.; Full Stage. The act has many novel features and is one that affords much diversion. The paraphernalia used is out of the ordinary and the work of the five people is neat, natty and finished. They stand on their heads and dance against platforms. The act is startling in many respects.
11 Mins.; Full Stage (Curtains). “Danceland.” After giving Rose Dolly and Martin Brown credit for framing their act for a Palace audience, and knowing enough to get away from the hum-drummed “society dances,” also noting that Monday evening at the Palace the somewhat light audience held a considerable portion of their friends, there isn’t a great deal left to be said of this new dancing turn, expecting that it is another instance exhibited where a vaudeville audience will fall easily, if the bunk is delivered right. Mr. Brown has come back from Europe with several ideas new to the American dancer. They are quickly reorganized as belonging to the French dancer. The Russian steps or style Brown affects he has more trouble with. And Brown often articulates “Voila!” after the manner of French acrobats, though confessing Mr. Brown’s garbled version of the French word nearly disguises it. Miss Dolly dances well enough with Brown. She can do that with any good leader. They do a waltz or two, doing their worst with a Spanish effort mainly consisting of foot stamping. The dressing for this is picturesque, what there is to it, but not much clothing is worn by either. Between changes of costume a Pierrot sings the story of the next dance, before the curtain. Many flowers were showered upon the couple. Their friends came early, and remained to see Fanny Brice later on. But the house was not filled by quite a large margin (for the Palace) even with Houdini headlining. Dolly and Brown will gain a reputation for class with this turn, and maybe dancing also. Both are fair dancers in their line, which appears to be classical from this exposition, but when classical dancers are spoken, of there’s a long list to be read off before Rosie Dolly and Martin Brown’s names are reached. The American vaudeville audiences – which have stood and stands for so much in the dancing line that isn’t – will be as easy as they are gullible for this team.
16 Mins.; Five. (Interior). “Brother Fans” Tom Lewis is presented by Jos. Hart in “Brother Fans,” a comedy drama that is almost a farce in idea, but saved from disaster by Mr. Lewis and his co-players. At the Palace Monday evening, Mr. Lewis, probably to oblige the stage management, did a bit in “one” following the finale of the sketch. Time was needed to strike the set for the full stage dancing act following. Mr. Lewis’ monolog of broken-up dialog in this after-portion made a hit the sketch scored a Lewis-riot, for he actually stopped the show. After the lights had been flashed for the Brown-Dolly turn, the continued applause forced Mr. Lewis to return, and gauging from the reception he personally received, Tom Lewis as a “single” would be equal to the full value he and his company may have, if not more. The playlet tells of the excitement caused among Americans abroad by a baseball game played in London between the round-the-world Giants an White Sox. Lewis invited a couple of fans, met at the game, to a private dinner in the evening. One is a consumptive who came from Algiers solely to see the game. The other is the London correspondent for the Associated Press. The newspaper man recognizes the invalid as the defaulter from America. The A.P. man insists he will turn the criminal over to Scotland Yard. With a few meller tricks, the correspondent phones the detective bureau. Lewis intervenes for the consumptive, balks the detective when he arrives, and arranges to send the invalid back to Algiers, because “he is the greatest fan in the world,” and took a chance on his life and liberty to see one more ball game. During the little meal they are having and previous to the disclosure, a film shows scenes of a baseball diamond, as Lewis “recalls” to his companions the Polo Grounds. A phonograph also echoes part of a game. Some lines in the piece bring laughter, and many more lines which should be there (since Mr. Lewis so easily handles dialog of a certain character) are missing. At the opening when the talk becomes twisted over “Tell her that you saw me” and so on, it is remindful of a section of one of the Conroy and Lamire blackface sketches. But Mr. Lewis can put “Brother Fans” over, with all of its many shortcomings. He has a good company in support.
One. The Sharrocks are mind-readers, mental telegraphists or any term that may be preferred to describe the people who can apparently read each other’s minds. Not since the ays of The Zancigs have a mind-reading couple played New York who could eclipse the Zancigs memory until the Sharrocks showed at the Palace this week. The Zancigs were remarkable, for their rapidly and correctness – the Sharrocks are wonderful in the same ways. The Sharrocks had to overcome the handicap of the “No.2” position on a long bill that called for the removal of the Weekly Review to the closing position. They did it. Owing to the composition of the program, The Sharrocks were unavoidably placed there, but closing the first half is their spot on any bill, if not placed in the second half. The turn has a sketch opening in “one,” a faking gypsy fortune telling tent, with the man the spieler and the woman the worker. The turn contains comedy throughout, with a solid laughing finish. Following some talk at the opening, Mr. Sharrock goes into the audience, Mrs. Sharrock remaining blindfolded upon the stage. Sharrock moves quickly up and down the aisles. Mrs. Sharrock calling out a mass of articles he touches or looks at. This has not been uncommon among mind-readers, but it’s the way this couple work. Even the wise ones are more mystified than any others ever caused them to be. Tuesday night in the extreme rear orchestra seat a spectacles auditor handed Mr. Sharrock something. Even the operator had to ask what it was. Mrs. Sharrock, 100 feet or more away, on the stage, could not possible have heard the remark, but almost more than man could answer, Mrs. Sharrock had called out “A clinical thermometer.” The suggestion of a plant for this is very remote. Hardly anyone seated could see it, excepting a few standing near, and at the time Sharrock was on the rush to the left-hand orchestra aisle, from the center one he had just finished. If in concentration or anything they have evolved in system or otherwise, to cue or tell, either one of them ever thought of a clinical thermometer, they must be marvels of record ingenuity. Returning to the stage, Mr. Sharrock drops down his gypsy tent, and they prepare to depart. Mrs. Sharrock berates him for going through a crowd like that and coming back empty handed. He replies, as they exit, that he went through right, showing eight or ten gold watches on chains as his booty. The Sharrocks make an excellent vaudeville number that can’t possibly fail.
“The Society Buds” 44 Mins.; Full Stage (Special Set). Forty-four minutes is too long for a big time vaudeville musical comedy sketch, even though a Jesse Lasky production with the popular Clark and Bergman starred. That is the only trouble just now with the act. If reduced to a reasonable time limit, this Lasky number should rank with his “Trained Nurses” which did so well for a couple of seasons, with the same couple leading. William Le Baron wrote the book and lyrics, with music by Robert Hood Bowers. Frank Smithson staged the piece. Two songs are interpolated by the principals, written by Irving Berlin. Eight chorus girls and a musical director are there. A logical story is carried to the finale. Henry Bergman as a chauffeur in love and Miss Clark as a main in the same family, impersonate their employers (who are professional dancers) to entertain a party of society buds that evening, teaching them to dance receiving $5,000 for it. The attempts of two butlers (Clifford Robertson and Vincent Erne) to steal the money furnish the grounds for the comedy and the repeated entrances and exits of the pair. One number, “Society Buds’ Day,” led by Miss Clark, is made into an extensive affair, a sort of illustrated picture series of the choristers who have an opportunity in it. This is very well put on. “My Idea of Paradise (Berlin) is a pretty song. The other Berlin number was “I Love to Quarrel with You” (used Tuesday night in place of the programed “Furnishing Up a Home for Two”). “The Chained Ankel Glide” (Bowers) afforded a chance for a neat little bit of business and satire on the prevailing short skirt. It was done by Mr. Bergman and the girls. Messrs Robertson and Erne tall and short respectively, had “It’s Really Too Absurd” for a duet number, with a dance, and from this point onward the two dancing, as the act is at present routine, is the biggest factor in it including the dances by Miss Clark and Mr. Bergman collectively and individually. The two comedians brought several laughs, and the two principals did the same, securing most of the latter with repartee, using some sure-fires such as “the first national bank.” Miss Clark looked daintily pretty and her personality left an impression. Mr. Bergman handled himself and his material as usual, excellently. The act is costumed in the Lasky prodigal manner. Until properly condensed no one concerned in the turn will know just where they are at expecting that there is enough “meat” to it. And four Class A principals. Jane Quirk conducted the orchestra.
Oscar Loraine, with his fiddle, had them eating out of his hands when he stepped out, and before he was through they were howling. When he uncovered his plant in the box he proved a knock-out. And how that plant can sing, though she could do away with that shimmying with credit to herself and the act.
