11 Mins.; One. The Morrissey Brothers are two dress suited young men, mostly dancers, although they attempt recitative singing, telling how they are in demand by the vaudeville managers. The public is more interested otherwise. In the opening spot they seemed to feel they were above the position and so spoiled whatever they did have. One of the boys has some ability as a dancer, while his partner can finger the ivories a bit. Will do on the small time.
: 17 Mins.; One and Full stage. Ray Dooley has taken the best section of her former minstrel turn, condensed what was originally a big girl act into a trio, added some new material and reconstructed her routine into something which bears a semblance to big time speed, although there is still room for further improvement. The trio includes a comedian, “straight” man and Miss Dooley herself, who essays a kid character throughout. The comic can be safely credited with 75 per cent of the turn’s success. He carries a style and delivery of his own and executes some sure-fire falls that will eventually bring him up among the top-notchers in eccentric work. As the turn stands now, it runs a bit long for big time usefulness. The comic’s solo song could be safely discarded with his dance interpolated into the early section. The “bedroom” number could also be consistently eliminated since the girl’s enunciation is rather faculty and the whole bit runs to low comedy and doesn’t harmonize with the balance. And Miss Dooley could and should cover her knees. The rest of the turn is excellent, with the encore, a burlesque of a modern cabaret, measuring up as one of the best comic bits seen around here in many months. The rearranging process would bring the time down to a reasonable limit and in turn develop the act into a standard big time number. Miss Dooley’s business sagacity is evidenced in the billing, but it seems the boys should be credited somewhere for their work. At the Columbia the act took all the honors of the Sunday matinee.
11 Mins.; Three (Interior) A young looking couple, who offer a little home and heart skit that met with favor. Team handles little playlet well.
15 Mins.; Three (Curtained Stage). Near the close of the Broadway show Monday night this operatic singing trio appeared. First one man sings a solo, the stage is darkened and on the relight a woman appears alone. She sings and again the dark change and the other member of the trio appears for a solo. Here in succession are three solos. For the finish the trio offers the prison scene from “Faust,” with one of the men displaying the most villainous looking Satanic makeup seen hereabouts in a long time. The trio offers nothing but the work of the classic masters. The tri-singing combination evidently was forced over here by the war.
17 Mins.; One. Albert F. Hawthorne and Jack Inglis make up this team of “nut” comics. Inglis has had a reputation as a “nut” on the small time and at last has framed an act with a partner of sufficient class to warrant the turn making the big time. The turn the duo are offering contains 17 solid minutes of laughter and the boys work hard throughout the entire time. Their bit with the instruments at the finish is definite bid for additional applause but as it worked legitimately enough there can be no objection. Inglis has a peculiar style, entirely his own. He throws ginger into the turn from the first minute, and his partner, feeding as he does the biggest part of the time, fills in nicely. Acts of this type are much needed.
18 Mins.; Full Stage. George Archer has a new edition of his “Chocolate Drops” which had the third spot in the Academy program the first half. The act has seven colored boys and girls. Two boys, King and Bailey, are the leaders in the singing, dancing and comedy. Five girls are the chorus, one of the quintette doing a society stepping bit with one of the men. This girl has possibilities, her dancing and leading the other girls being above the usual run of chorus leaders. The dressing of the chorus is up to the mark on all occasions, the girls making four changes in all, two of which are slip-overs. The appearance of the girls in the gingham frocks over the sourbet costumes is not pleasing for they bulge out, giving the girls an awkward appearance. There is time enough during the comedy work of the men for the girls to make a complete change, so why spoil the appearance once? The bronze slippers and stocking set the girls’ feet and limbs off to good advantage. As a colored tabloid there are a few, if any, that can beat: The Chocolate Drops.”
13 Mins.; One. Two men and a woman. The former do the banjo strumming while the woman plays rather lackadaisically upon a guitar-shaped instrument. The men play mechanically and should not take their work too seriously. Act best in pop houses.
“My Wife from London” 19 Mins.; Five (Parlor). “My Wife from London” is Scotch, played by Scots. Like other plays and playlets from that country or that country’s authors, it has irresistible humor, in dialog, expression and emphasis. The Scotch writer, while not as wildly anxious for continuous laughs as the English or American comedy penman, making a bull’s eye when he does aim. It may be said to be a fault that he doesn’t aim often enough, but this is offset in part at least by the continuity of the story told, even in a sketch. Walter Roy wrote “My Wife from London,” perhaps as good a title as any. The playlet is very entertaining, or would be those accustomed to refined vaudeville and to those who prefer that sort rather than slapstick. It’s hard to say whether the Fifth Avenue crowd Tuesday evening liked it better than they did a Swede comedian. Some of the best matter in the Scotch turn got but half of what it deserved, while the Swede when he opened his mouth, giving a long howl, for no reason and no possible object (excepting he hadn’t had anything else written in for him to do) received the loudest laughter of the night from those in front. Comedy is comedy to those who like it. It’s also a matter of education by those who sell it through the box office. Some keep the box office busy and some do not. Mr. Roy plays the principal role in the Scotch skit, although Peggy McCreed is featured. She’s a good-looking blonde girl, plump and living up to the usual Scotch billing of “bonny,” although she is English in this case, in character and in fact. The story is of an elderly couple, always quarreling. Their son left for London a few years before. The girl is their ward. The son married her before going away. He returns after having become successful on the London musical hall stage as a Scotch comedian. The mother is glad to have her boy back, regardless, but the father is stern. He wants to know what he has done, and is horrified at his boy turning into a “play actor.” The father asks the son how much he gets a week for making a fool of himself. “Thirty pounds,” replies the boy. “For thirty pounds we can afford to be disgraced a little,” answers the pater. The piece is nicely played. It is restful in a sense and there are surprise laughs obtained without effort. It is well written effort and should be able to make itself worth booking on big time, although it is not a big comedy number, though capable of improvement, especially the finish, which might end in another quarrel scene. Mr. Roy makes up well as the father and does equal well in his playing.
: 8 Mins.; One. Anges Truesadle hasn’t much of a voice, but she has some wardrobe.
30 Mins.; Full (Interior.) “A Night In A Café” is a big act, composed entirely of amateurs. Five girls and five boys in the act. From the manner in which they work and from their appearance they suggest amateurs. One or two of the girls might develop in time. The two girls playing the daughters of the alleged Iris comic might work out a nice little routine of songs for the small and pass with it. They are good looking and are possessed of personality and voice. The little dancer with a boy partner might also get some work with the right sort of a turn. The act as it is now, however, will not do. It is badly produced, the comedy is the rawest of hokum and worked to death. The Irish and Hebrew comics are sad.
