Full Stage (Special Set). “Oh, Papa.” Barring a very visible, and in this instance unnecessary slowness at the start, “Oh, Papa,” is a condensed version of “When Claudia Smiles,” a former musical play, made over for vaudeville by Channing Pollock and Ren Wolf, looks suitable for Miss Ring’s vaudeville invasion. The scene shows a room in Claudia’s (Miss Ring) apartment. Her maid (Nellie Filmore) is very active when Johnny Rogers (Alfred Fisher), divorced husband of Claudia, arrives. A few minutes of conversation reveals much of the plot, after which Roger exits to allow Mr. Brook (Fred W. Strong) an opportunity to explain his connection. Frederick Walker (Chas. J. Winniger) comes next, completing the cast, a small bit being played by Jas. Duddy in the opening. Claudia, a musical comedy star is in love with her ex-husband, but takes delight in coddling the two “old boys,” married millionaires. A complication is nearly handled by Claudia’s “Oh, Papa” line, when the two old men unexpectedly meet and take each other for the girl’s dad. The finale shows the return of Rogers and the cheerless exit of the two old “chasers.” Two numbers are employed in the piece proper, “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” and “Dear Old Pet.” The former went exceptionally well. Winniger in a sort of polite German role monopolizes the comedy with a good characterization and makes an excellent foil for the star. Miss Filmore as the colored maid provided some contrast for Miss Ring’s appearance, filling in to satisfaction. Strong fits the type his role calls for and stops at that. Fisher had little to do, but did well enough. With the skit over, Miss Ring appeared in “one,” for some reason or other, to continue with songs with which she has become familiar in the past. This section could be comfortably shelved, except in cases where an encore is essential. And the opening should be penciled enough to allow for a brief introduction of the plot although the costume changes should remain for the benefit of the women. Until Winninger’s entrance, the cast must depend upon light comedy, and light comedy in vaudeville is more luscious in small chunks. Miss Ring, as was expected, scored an individual hit, with her principal comic running a close second. With the necessary alteration “Oh, Papa” will fill all vaudeville wants.
9 Mins.; One. Charlotte Leslay is billed as being able to sing higher than Mme. Tetrazini. Well, Arthur Hammerstein should know but as far as big time vaudeville is concerned, who cares? The young woman has a soprano voice of some range, but it is not a voice of any timbre or quality. The singer spoils whatever chance she may have had with such billing by opening with a rag. Her second number is also popular, a ballad following. At the finish she sang “Falling in Love with Someone” and “My Hero.” The latter is, without doubt, the American flag to all sopranos and tenors. Miss Leslay is a lyric soprano, and as long as she clings to operatic billing, might better confine her repertoire to classical and semi-classical material. With an evening gown of dark material and a new selection of songs she should be a neat little single on small time.
11 Mins.; One. A difference between “putting ‘em over” and “pulling ‘em in.” this was proven at Hammerstein’s Monday night. Those who made the test were Hank Gowdy, the premier swatter of the World’s Baseball Champions, and his side partner, the pitching marvel, Dick Rudolph. The team was engaged for Hammerstein’s for the week at a big figure as a box office drawing card, but judging from the house, they are failures in this particular. Rube Marquard, who sat with his wife, Blossom Seeley, in the fifth row, who must have gloried in the fact that he knew just what his confreres were passing through; however, this noted vaudevillian was there with the “Iron Hand” where it came to applause for the newcomers. The turn was introduced by the “Only Loey” who turned loose his ready wit on the audience in an introductory speech. He stated that when the battery was hired for vaudeville they confessed that they couldn’t do a thing on stage so Loney framed the act for them. It consisted of Gowdy showing signals used by him in coaching pitchers, and an explanation by Rudolph of the various style he pitched in the Series. He then warmed up and lobbed over a few to Gowdy, which ended their part of the entertainment. The audience was generous in its applause for the stars of the diamond and gave them enough to warrant a couple of bows, which they took good naturedly.
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.
20 Mins.; Full (Special). In this sketch Edgar Allan Woolf attempts to satirize the private lift of an operatic prima donna. Who his model was matters not. The story that the author has woven regarding the domestic difficulties of the prima donna, her hubby and her teacher-impresario are interesting and extremely laughable, but the cast at present needs two changes, one mighty important. The story tells of an operatic star who just wed a young millionaire she is making his life miserable because of the daily routine that she must follow to keep her voice. There is the throat lozenge, the raw egg and the throat spray, and also the teacher-manager. This is enough to drive any young bridegroom to distraction. But the manager conceives a press agent plant which gives hubby a chance to beat up the manager and shows the wife that a career in the home is more important than one before the footlights and all ends happily. The producer must be taken to the task for his stage reporter. Never before has there been such a journalist in history. W. Mason who plays the role of the young husband fails at all time to be convincing Miss Murray very cleverly characterizes the role of the prima donna and W. Richardi as the teacher-manager is all that could be desired. The act needs to be whipped into shape and then will do nicely. At the Prospect Tuesday night it passed with three curtains at the close.
22 Mins.; Full Stage. “Days of War” Mme. Yorska, protege of Bernhardt, made her first appearance in English in “Days of War” (by Maurice Joy) assisted by Jose Ruben. The scene of the little play is laid in a fashionable hotel in a European seaside resort. The story concerns a spy and how he is caught by a chorus girl from the Casino, a local playhouse. Mme. Yorska is seen as Laura, the Casino girl, who has been courted by Count Dalgo (Jose Ruben). There is a waiter (Theodore Doucet) who is in reality a secret service man on the trail of Count Dalgo, the spy. A maid (Eleanor Grayce) is also more or less concerned. It appears that Laura, who is under an assumed name, had known Count Dalgo in other days under his real name, and at that time had fallen in love with him. She is set to catch him by the secret service man. While waiting to give the signal which will send him to death, she discovers he is her former ideal, and this forms the crux of the playlet. In this big scene Mme. Yorska is given opportunity for some strong emotional acting. The act is talky and discursive and the plot is not always clearly defined. As a picture of what happens in war times, it is fairly effective. Mme. Yorska’s series of plays at the Fine Arts theatre was abandoned because of war conditions.
15 Mins.; One. This trio look as if they were from some quartet. They have the sameness characteristic of all male acts. Two of the boys sing straight, with the little fat chap doing a Scotch number that is a trifle long, but otherwise all right. A good singing aggregation of popular songs for the small time.
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.
17 Mins; One (Special Curtain). Assisted by a pianist Miss Cox is offering three song studies that remind one very much of the English artiste, Wish Wynne, who favored us with her presence several years ago. Miss Cox is of statuesque proportions and makes a stunning appearance. She has a most likeable personality and a delightful voice. The latter she uses to distinct advantage in three numbers. All of her material has been especially written by her sister, Ray. Her opening is entitled “Mother’s Old Gown” and expresses a pretty bit of sentiment. It is costume. Her second is a recitative song. “The Tug-boat and the Yacht,” which she places over in a pretty fashion. The closing song is called “Day Dreams of a School Girl.” The idea is a novelty and the best of the three. Miss Cox dresses the last character very girlishly in a pink costume that is exceedingly pretty, and the manner in which she renders agreeably the little waltz strain and the few bars of “Butterfly” that have been woven into the [unreadable] of the offering that slows that she has a voice that will carry her far.
17 Mins.; Full Stage (Special Set). “Twenty Odd Years” Taking an every-day incident for the basis of his text, Tom Barry tacked the title of “Twenty Odd Years” on this little comedy playlet, contributed a classy little routine of conversation and situations and handed it to Harry Beresford who provided a capable cast, a splendid background and the combined result is one of the prettiest little plays in present-day vaudeville. The theme is of two old men who quailed twenty years ago. One is rich, the other comfortable fixed but not overburdened with worldly goods. The latter’s niece loves the other’s son. The scene is the home of the girl, an exterior with a set cottage in the background, provided with practical fixtures, doors, shutters, windows, etc. The story revolves around the courtship with the points built on a light comedy structure, the finale bringing an adjustment. It might be well to have two elders meet in view of the audience, since it would but require a change for the gardener (Vincent Seaville) and would not necessitate any surplus dialog. Beresford plays “Nunky,” the girl’s uncle. His portrayal of the moody, but lovable old gentleman was decidedly artistic, many of the laughs arising from his impromptu actions and peculiar delivery. Frederick Howard is a likeable juvenile, carefully instructed in this instance and passable in all departments. Isabell Mendosa is of that rare type of dramatic ingenue with a clear enunciation, yet girlish appearance, and fits her portion like a glove. Opposite Howard she scored an individual hit and did wonders in the uplift. The production and general equipment is also worthy of individual comment and comes close to a class of its own, considering the size and nature of the vehicle. “Twenty Odd Years” should go on for a long time.
