17 Mins.; Two (Special) and One. A number of years ago Butler Haviland and Alice Thornton were well known in Boston and their reception should have been cordial, but there was no abundance of enthusiasm over their new sketch Monday. A special drop is used, showing a French bathing beach, with a dressing tent. Haviland appears in full dress, but wearing a pair of bathing trunks over his underwear. Miss Thornton is in a bathing suit. The patter is light, but good. It needs to be cut wherever there is not a laugh a minute, and when this is done it will be a good sketch carried by Haviland’s personality and long legs. A speciality song, “It Was Just on the Tip of My Tongue,” goes fairly, and the act closes in “one.” If Haviland uses more stuff like this syncopated and speedy encore specialty, the act will jump fifty per cent. It is all right from one point of view, but the latent possibilities are so many it is a vaudeville crime not to work them up. The only apparent excuse for the title is about two minutes of explanation as to who Haviland is. It is without a laugh except for the mention of investing all his money in ham sandwiches for a picnic, only to find it a gathering of Hebrews.
23 Mins.; Full Stage (Special Set). Kitty Gordon’s name! Evan at that it is best that this beauty have some sort of vehicle for her talents, of whatsoever sort they may be. She has chosen to return to vaudeville in a comedietta, called “The Pink Nightgown,” written by Kinsey Piele. It does not call for any great acting on the part of any of the trio who participate, and comedy is conspicuously its absence. Miss Gordon has opportunity for displaying her beauty in a handsome gown-one consolation. The tale is of Gabrielle (Miss Gordon), who enters the house of Lord Arthur Tollenbach (Harrison Hunter), her former husband, at midnight and discovers the gentlemen’s room filled with photographs of a woman who signs herself “Ducky.” This stirs the old flame of love in the heart of the fair divorce, and she confronts her former liege lord with some little tempest of anger when he finally comes home. Later on, when the woman finds a pink nightgown and bedroom slippers in one of the rooms, the green-eyed monster is much further aroused. Then the woman turns the tables, and the man grows jealous one more. There are several wordy encounters, when the man finally owns that “Ducky” is his own sister from far away somewhere, and a reconciliation takes place. There is a little side incident, in which the woman is accused of being an accomplice of a pickpocket, as she has hired a “dip” to get her former husband’s keys so she may enter his house. A Mr. Harvey, who is seen as the Scotland Yard man, is a blemish on the act. The meagre comedy might be better if put over with more emphasis. As it ism the act is well staged and produced, but is rather dry fare. Miss Gordon’s fame may carry it some little way on big time, but that is about all.
“Pekin Mysteries.” 24 Mins.; Four (Special Set.) “The Pekin Mysteries” gets across big, and much of it is due to a bland comedian speaking English who is really funny in one feature trick, the stunt production of four-inch sticks that resemble spaghetti and which are inflexible from the nostrils in apparently inexhaustible quantities. Whenever this Hong Ping Chien desires to draw the attention from a proposed trick he proceeds to crackle as though about the lay and egg and then extracts a half dozen more sticks from the nose. There is apparently no question as to the possibilities of “The Pekin Mysteries” as a big time headliner. Opening quietly with a torn strip of tissue paper and a burnt piece of ribbon, the fish bowl trick is done then in a slightly new form through having a tier of half a dozen bowls produced. It is after this that the act livens up, a tiny lad finishing a specialty by inserting a plain bamboo rod into the pit of his stomach and hoping across the stage, balanced atop of the pole. Much time is wasted on the steel ring trick, which is cleverly done with a rather crude switch from the rings passed through the audience for inspection. Hong Ping Chen secures laughter with his solos on a brass pan with a stick following this, and then the real stuff comes, based on the saucer spinning on top of slender sticks. One of the three men, who, with a woman and the youngster, comprise the company, spins three of these saucers on individual sticks and turns a back somersault from a table, keeping the saucers spinning. After double fish bowl production, which was snappy because of the unexpected second bowl, the close was a knockout. A table is balanced on balls, making it really unstable, and one of the company with a glass of water in each hand makes aback-bend until his head is approximately two feet below the soles of his slippers. In this position he picks up a third glass in his teeth and drinks the contents on the way up in a manner that does not allow a drop to spill. He returns to original position with the contents of the other two glasses unspilled and jumps from the table, which topples from its delicate position. The act is well staged, with a fairly attractive special set; but it is the comedy which makes it unusual.
21 Mins.; Full Stage (Special Interior). Allan Dinehart may be the meanest man in the world, but it will be a long time before he manages to make anyone believe it is his present offering. Allan is a nice boy and it seems more or less of a pity that he shouldn’t manage to get an offering more fitted to his talents than the present piece. He is a comedian, pure and simple, and a comedian who can convince an audience in a serious scene is about as rare as a snow-ball at the equator. T present Mr. Dinehart is not of the type of actor classified as a rarity. He is handicapped in the matter of support, but that was an error that should have been rectified before the act was shown. “The Meanest Man in the World” is a lawyer who self-styles himself thus in order to convince himself that he can be a regular Simon Legree and wield the black snake over the small debtors of a large corporation evidently is one that deals in women’s wear at wholesale. One of the creditors is J. Hudson & Co., who conduct a small shop in Kingston N.Y. they owe the corporation $200. The meanest man in the world is sent to collect or to close the establishment. On his arrival in the little office at the back of the Hudson store he encounters what he believes to be the firm’s stenographer, but it isn’t the stenographer at all, she really is the whole of J. Hudson & Co. (the audience is in the secret all the time) but the meanest man wasn’t wise even though there wasn’t another soul in the store. He tells what a bad man he is and the supposed stenographer pleads for time for the firm, claiming there is to be an Old Home Week Celebration within a month and the shop will make enough during this period to take care of the indebtedness (but anyone who ever lived in Kingston and managed to get away could not be gotten back to the burg other than in a coffin). The meanest man finally awakes to the fact that the stenographer is really the whole firm and has softening of the heart and incidentally of the brain, telephones to New York and borrows enough to take care of the firm’s debt. He also learns that through some legal manipulation J., Hudson has been trimmed of $20,000, and he is about to start out to collect that for her, when the stenographer suddenly shows she is more interested in the meanest man than in the money and there is a happy curtain. The act will do as a feature turn on the small time.
“True to Nature” 20 Mins.; Five Grant Carpenter has written a comedy playlet for Kathryn Osterman that carries more comedy at the finish than at the commencement. Its title, “True to Nature,” was once employed by Tom Mann. The Carpenter piece is about a divorcee who has attracted a married man to her side. He is a galivanting husband, and when discovered by his latest flame to be married, pleads his wife is an invalid, who forces him to seek congenial companionship of the opposite sex. To assure herself of this, the divorcee, receiving a check for $250, from the “chaser,” buys gowns with it, depositing the receipted bill into his overcoat pocket at his next call. In this way the wife learns of her husband’s latest infatuation, and calls upon the divorcee. A preamble ensures upon the duties of a wife, and the necessities to “hold a husband.” The wife is a dowdy looking creature, in contrast to Mrs. Best (Miss Osterman), the divorcee, elegantly gowned in evening costume. They talk and talk with smart repartee on the wife’s side calling for a repression of injured pride by Mrs. Best, Mr. Smith, the husband, is calling. Mrs. Smith had better slip into the new gown, and follow Mrs. Best’s instructions, which she does, to the consternation of Mr. Smith. He exclaims, “Can this be my Mary?” or something like, when Mrs. Best breaks in saying, “Listen, the biggest chump in the world is the man who finally finds out he has been buying wine for the wrong girl.” The speech seems to make a bigger hit with the audience than with Mr. Smith, for as he leaves the room with his wife, Smith runs back a minute to remark to Mrs. Best, “You are the loveliest woman in the world, and you little devil, I’ll get you yet.” The action starts with the entrance of Mr. Smith (James Kyrle MacCurdy). Mabel Wright plays the wife. The early portion should be edited by a non-interested party, and the husband introduced before ten minutes have elapsed as at present. Miss Osterman carries her role nicely, looks extremely well, and her assistance ably assist her, particularly Mr. Macurdy. The principal and the playing should carry the piece along nicely for one over the circuit. The sure fire of it is its appeal to women everywhere.
“One Word Bill” 18 Mins.; Full Stage – Exterior (15); One (3). George Felix and Emily and Clara Barry have a new construction for Mr. Felix’s pantomimic nonsense and the Barry girls’ songs and dances. It is called “One World Bill,” by Junie McCree. The ground work amounts to giving Mr. Felix a reason for being on the stage. He speaks but one word at a time, and that not very often, only in answer to questions by either of the sisters. The act is an exterior, bare stage really, with a fence and a table about the only set pieces in it. Mr. Felix enters behind the fance. He is pantomimically awkward as of yore, and finally clambers over the picket railing, although the opening in the fence is but a few feet away from him. When later discovering that, he climbs back, and re-enters through the gate. The fun of the new turn is all Felix’s as much the same as his former familiar and popular act, in which the Barry girls have been assisting him for a couple of seasons. The newest item in the current number is the closing in “one.” It starts with a “table scene,” Felix as the waiter, and briefly culminates by converting the table and chairs into a comedy taxicab, Mr. Felix as the chauffeur, driving the two young women off. To the audience the trio played as though roughly broken into the new act, but the regulars around the rail Monday afternoon, aware the turn was lately launched, knew that Mr. Felix would improve it in spots with repeated playing. His comedy work is nearly relieved and set off by the Barry girls, who dress well, nicely sing and dance besides handling the dialog necessary for the best effect. It’s Mr. Felix’s fun-making that holds up the turn, however; in fact, would hold up any act he is connected with. He has a field to himself over here in his particular line of work, and he is very funny at it.
“Poughkeepsie.” 16 Mins.; Full Stage. In his new sketch Charley Grapewin has the assistance of Anna Chance, in the lively roel of the wife of a traveling salesman. This new work, whoever penned it, is capable of making the laughs come think and fast. Mr. Grapewin is a drummer who lives in Yonkers. He is the victim of the local gossips. It becomes known to his wife that he has a girl in every town. He is expected home. A rather cool but calm spouse meets him upon his return from the terrible road. She tells him there is housecleaning to be done. He graphs for his hat and bags. But she finally wins her point and he agrees to do his part in cleaning up the little nest. When alone in the parlor he notices the bag of another drummer with the same initials as his own, which was taken by him by mistake. The wife sends her husband into the dining room, and decides to inspect his baggage for some clew as to what her husband is doing while away. She opens the bag of another traveler and finds in it several pictures, one from a taffee-headed milliner in Poughkeepsie. She has heard that dame was a great friend of her husband’s. Revenge she must have. He returns from his meal and is greeted with some heated arguments and censored for his faithlessness. He tries to pass it off, but can’t get it over. He had telephoned to his friend with the same initials, also a resident of Yonkers, to have a wire sent him telling him the firm wanted Jed Harvey (Mr. Grapewin) to leave on special business to Poughkeepsie. The telegram does not arrive quickly, but when it does Jed is ready to jump. He hands it unopened to his wife and tells her to read it. The wire says, “Stay home with your wife and help clean house.” The finish shows a greatly disguised Jed at home. There are few sketches that have the comedy worked out with the rapidly of this new vehicle of Grapewin’s. the audience was continually laughing. Miss Chance is perusal excellent great assistant.
“When Caesar Ran a Paper.” The skit was written two years ago by “Wally” Young, until recently dramatic editor of the San Francisco Chronicle, and was produced at that time at the annual show of the local press club, for which it was expressly created. It proved one of the hits of that entertainment and easily made good here last week, although in much faster company. The sketch is a travesty on editorial room life of the present day. The story deals principally with the efforts of an enterprising theatrical press agent to “land” a front page illustrated feature story of his star. The scene is laid in the private office of Caesar, “editor of Rome’s greatest daily,” and the action takes place the morning after a strenuous night before, when Caesar has been royally entertained by Marc Anthony, publicity promoter for Cleopatra, Egyptian dancer. There is a generous display of liquors, cordials and mixing paraphernalia. Caesar is diving his time between editing “copy” and mixing fizzes, when Anthony suddenly bursts in on his privacy, armed with photographs and typewritten “copy.” The dialog is bright and snappy, and the events that follow in swift succession and culminate finally in the arrival of Caesar’s wife, are ludicrously funny. The costuming is elaborate the players are clad in the conventional attire of the Caesarian Roman Empire period. Jacobs, another San Francisco newspaper man, has the part of Caesar; Young interprets the role of Anthony and Ethyl McFarland, a comedy and fairly clever danseuse, is Cleopatra. Joseph Roberts does a taxi driver “bit” and masquerades later as Mrs. Caesar. From a histrionic viewpoint, the work of the two chief principals plainly evidences a lack of acting experience, but they have a corking good vehicle and long before their Orpheum tour has been concluded they should develop the ease, stage presence and finesse of the “pro.” In its present shape the offering got over nicely here, where the co-stars have a strong personal following. On its actual merit, it should be moderately successful elsewhere.
“The Old Hag” 18 Mins.; Full Stage. Occasionally, in consistently patronizing the big time vaudeville theatres, one collides with a comedy sketch that qualifies for the novelty classification either because of a new idea in construction or the originality and build of its theme, although such cases are decided rare in a season. In Emmett Devoy’s “The old Hag” it might be early recorded that Devoy has taken excellent advantage of all the possibilities and completed a sketch that will eventually number him among vaudeville’s six best sellers of the current season. “The Old Hag” is a little domestic story, full of interest from start to close, with an abundance of good, up-to-date comedy and a corking finish. The scene is the home of a young couple, married but a year. The inevitable petty quarrels helped along with two ungovernable tempers are making things unhappy. The husband (Arthur Bell) blames everything on his wife’s mother (Maude Durand) and the wife (Ann Ptttwood) blames her mother-in-law for the state of affairs. Mr. Devoy is the family friend. With a little diplomacy he adjusts the differences. The girl’s mother, a widow, had formerly courted the family friend. The old love is renewed during the action and leads up to the finish where he proposes. She doesn’t answer and he leaves. Finding him gone, she executes a little audible acting which he hears, having stepped but just outside the door. Upon his return with ensuring embrace comes the curtain. The individual parts are excellently taken by the principals, with Mr. Devoy and Miss Durand standing out conspicuously. The piece has been produced on a two-dollar basis. With heart interest, petty thrills and always comedy in sight, “The Old Hag” is a fine piece of vaudeville property. Emmet Devoy wrote it and probably staged it. His labor has brought him a splendid reward.
It Can Be Done” 20 Mins.; Full Stage (Special Set).
Several months ago a story appeared in the Saturday Evening Post, the theme of which, slightly altered for vaudeville presentation, is made the basis of the latest Chas. E. Evans vehicle, having been played last season by the Princess Theatre Players. The scene is the rear platform of an observation car on a west-bound training running at high speed between Rochester and Buffalo. The characters include a New Yorker (Mr. Evans) with a healthy bank roll, an adventuress (Mabel Frenyear) who plans to relieve him of his wealth, and a Pullman conductor (Alexander Carlton), the latter merely handling introductory and closing lines. The girl tries the various glib-tongued methods to make a “touch,” and, failing in these, makes a grand-stand demonstration of a mild badger game, pulling her hair down and opening her clothes to create evidence of an attack by the man. This happens after he refuses to present her $500 on request. The conductor, hearing her screams, after falling for the ruse, is convinced of her trickery when Evans displays the ashes of his cigar, its presence being sufficient evidence of his inactivity during the ride. Throughout the playlet the dialog runs to light comedy, carrying many good laughs and other possibilities for the addition of others. A surprise finale is provided with Evans’ exit, when the girl, after listening to his braggadocio agent the impossibility of “trimming a New Yorker,” displays his purse which she plunked during the scramble. An additional kick is registered upon her discovery that is empty, Evans having extracted the collateral before she located it. The finish is handled a bit fast, Miss Frenyear bumping the anticlimax and the climax into a combined laugh where to belong together with the natural surprise. With a few short lines between the business this would be materially strengthened. The idea is unique inasmuch as the car-end set in a dark background is both realistic and novel. It maintains the illusion of rapidly a moving train and reflects credit upon the producer, no author being programed. The piece is sponsored by William A. Bradey, and will probably be listed as one of the season’s best vaudeville productions, principally because it is a novelty, something very rare in the sketches. The cast is excellent for the piece and at the Alhambra, brought home a smashing hit.
