The Ricards held them fast in closing with some magic stunts that pleased, but were a shade less interesting than the shadowgraph work of the man.
Cortelli and Rogers were strong in the next-to-closing spot, the wop comedy of Cortelli especially causing the hit of the turn.
Adams and Robinson, in the deuce spot exchanged a note of songs in the duet key for some effective harmony. One plays the piano and the other dances. The colored men were well received.
Kennedy and Kramer, opening, were preceded by a songster (not billed), who, with the aid of the stereopticon slides, melodied [sic] “Tired of Me” across the foots, encouraging enough for the audience to take up the chorus, The opening turn did not register at all with the introductory song, but stirred up the dust by some exceptionally fine buck and wing steps. Their precision in the concluding dance won them a big hand.
The Kuma Four, a Jap magical act, closed. The billing is misleading, as all of the magic is performed by a single Jap. It’s mostly cabinet work, smoothly handled and mystifying to the uninitiated. Two of the best of the class of tricks is a levitation and a trunk trick. In the latter the magician, probably Kuma, announces he will have a girl step forth from a trunk clad in the national colors of any country named. It’s been done before but is handled with real showmanship by Kuma.
Amoros and Jeanette, next to closing, were spotted just right and made ‘em yell with their new low comedy business. The man of this turn does a French comic, getting a lot out of the character by not overdoing it or making it up in the regulation way.
Jerry Grady and Co. fourth held attention with that good old vaudevilles classic, “The Toll Gate.” It’s a wholesome little sketch excellently played by Mr. Grady and his two assistants. At the conclusion Grady was accorded several curtains, all of which he took in character. His grouchy old man is a highly legitimate bit of artistry.
Lambert and Philippe, a two-man comedy turn, were a laughing riot third with a bunch of lively hoke bits. The finish of the turn, a ventriloquial burlesque, with one man holding the other on his lap, is almost identical with the ventriloquist bit identified with Felix Adler’s act for several years.
The house again proved that when Ben Bernie, who followed Miss Carus and was next to closing, went through his most enjoyable act. Mr. Bernie talked his was along until time to play the fiddle once more, when he asked the audience to pick up their airs. After playing a couple Mr. Bernie stopped, to talk again it seemed, but someone somewhere hollered, “Keep on playing,” and Mr. Bernie did. Bernie has a pleasing stage presence that sends his talk across far stronger than it really is. He’s a kidder, besides, with the violin and thinks more of a laugh apparently than he does of a good notice in the Musical Courier. That’s what made him a talking violinist. Some have danced while playing a violin. That’s awkward. Others just play the violin. That’s musical. Bernie just holds the violin and talks. That’s salary.
Emma Carus was the headliner, and politely inquired during her turn if any one had passed chloroform among the audience. Later Miss Carus found no one had, when the house applauded her hardworking dancing efforts. Otherwise, Miss Carus and the 5th Ave. didn’t appear to agree, nor did her pianist, Walter Leopold, get along with them any better with his piano work and songs. Miss Carus may have injured her standing in the first song when she lyrically stated she had lost 50 pounds. That sounded the truth when Miss Carus first used it, but now she should have that line re-written. It might have caused the audience to wonder how Miss Carus looked with the original 50, and while thinking it over they seemed to lose track of the turn, especially the talk, brightly current but delivered by Miss Carus as though she knew where the punches were. But they weren’t – at least before that mob, which won’t fall for red fire or crossfire unless it is handed to them as they think it should be.