Paul Swan

14 Mins.; Full Stage (Curtain). New York men haven’t been educated up to classical dancers of the Paul Swan type. He is wholly classical. The women may like him. The older the women the more they will like to see him float about the stage, with his arms moving snakewise, and his body twisting, almost squirming. But the men over here don’t understand it. Art isn’t held very high at Hammerstein’s and Mr. Swan got more snickers than applause, but the horrid men were responsible, the brutes! Mr. Swan danced three times, each time a different costume, but never at any time wearing enough clothes to cover him up. He was almost as naked as some of the women who have danced around for different reasons. Mr. Swan wore some silken drapes for covering. They exposed his bare arms and his bare legs and his bare back and his bare chest. The program said is “The Most Beautiful Man in the World,” but Mr. Swan ducked this way and then ducked that way, and he would never stand still long enough to let the house see his face. Of Mr. Swan’s three dances, the first, second and third seemed to be over the heads pf the audience. He died in the final dance, and it’s tough to die at Hammerstein’s.

Jack Lorimer and Co.

14 Mins.; One (6); Full Stage (8). “The Wedding in Old Tomoon” Jack Lorimer returns to this side with what the program says is a “song scena,” “The Wedding in Old Tomoon.” A song scena on the other side is presumed over here to be a “song production.” Mr. Lorimer had the song, singing it in a full bare stage woodland scene, assisted by Stella Sthal, but that was all it amounted to, just a song and dance. His first song in “one” was “Doing the Seaside” with several familiar Scotch melodies intertwined. His next was a Spanish number, costumed. It has a bit of humor in the idea, a Scotch Spanish dancer. Miss Stahl did not appear until the “song scena.” Mr. Lorimer has hardly a turn of strength, as it played Monday at Hammerstein’s.

Johnson and Deen

11 Mins.; One. This team of colored entertainers was one of the three real hits of the bill at Hammerstein’s this week. Johnson has a new woman partner, as far as America is concerned, in Josephine Deen. She makes a splendid stage appearance and wears three gowns nicely. She is also possessed of a soprano voice that passes her in the single number she does. Using “Follow the Crowd” for an opening number starts the act nicely. “You’re Here” and “Dancing Mad” also help along and give opportunity for dancing. Johnson is doing eccentric stepping as usual.

Charlotte Leslay

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.

Hank Gowdy and Dick Rudolph

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.

“Any Night.”

37 Mins.; One, Three and Full Stage. With three special scenes and a cast of nine characters, one or two of which are unimportant through necessary (and probably filled by supers), “Any Night,” one of the series of sensational short sketches shown at the Princess Theatre, is at Hammerstein’s. It’s a tale of the underworld, in this instance a possibility well knitted together into a rather importable chain, but nevertheless a possibility, and because of this, the more interesting. The cast embraces among its more important types a street walker, openly and rather baldly referred to as a “hustler,” a policeman of the brand that flourished before the Whiteman regime, a “respectable souse” and a pair of sinning youngsters. A hotel clerk, porter and a pedestrian and fireman also assisted, the two latter undoubtedly doubling, although evidencing some activity behind the scenes. The opening shows a street before a drop depicting a Raines Law hotel. The policeman and “hustler” discuss conditions, the former showing an unusual interest in the latter’s welfare. The conversation disclosed the fact that tuberculosis has been added to the girl’s lot. A comedy vein runs through her light reference to the inevitable end. The young man follows on, luring Miss Innocence to her first misstep. Then comes to “hustler’s” first “client,” the souse. The quartet enter the hotel, the interior of which comes in the second scene. The process of registering brings more comedy to the surface. The third and final scene is the bedroom occupied by the souse and his “wife,” the finale coming with a fire which threatens the building, the firemen’s arrival and their accompanying clatter and noise. The elderly souse and Miss Innocence come face to face in the excitement, and being father and child, both realizing their sin, etc., remain to perish in the flames. The “raw” situation occurs with the opening and its ensuring dialog in which the social problem is openly discussed and pictured, possibly a bit strong, although the producers evidently infer that the moral lesson contained in the theme proper atones for whatever violation of decency takes place during the action of the piece. Helen Hilton as the street walker was quite good. James Edwards as the policeman was a bit too refined in action and speech for a copper with the experience his arms stripes designated. Lorin J. Howard as the drunk was acceptable in that section of his duty, though overdoing, but his dramatic period was lost through inferior handling. Howard handled a climax much as he would a comedy point, and because of this the finale suffered and was only lifted through the timely arrival of the scenic illusion at the end of showing the fire. And in this blaze there was considerably more smoke than fire. But regardless of the existing minor faults, “Any Night” is a good feature for Hammerstein’s, where plays of this calibre can hold up. As a standard vaudeville attraction, it’s impossible. It closed the Hammerstein’s program.


12 Mins.; One. The Man Who Grows. Willard, the man who grows at will has one of the most distinct and unique vaudeville novelties extant, combining an interesting study in human physiology with a semi-comic monolog that never touches the monotonous point of a lecture, and behind both a personality and delivery entirely unexpected in a turn of this nature. In evening dress, with a colored attendant in livery, Willard explains a few facts of current and past interest, giving a line on his birth, habits, etc., the spiel being well blended with comedy. Willard, who is six feet tall normally, then exhibits his growing abilities, after assembling a committee on the stage. The elongation is visible and mystifying, more so when Willard disproves the suspicion of a dislocation by freely exercising the joint muscles of knee, neck and waist while at an extreme height. Resting on one foot he elongates the other, and vice versa, following this with a display of arm growth, extending either arm a distance of about fifteen inches beyond normal length. Realizing this to be the only act of its kind in existence, a complete review is difficult, for Willard is one of that strange species of novelty that one must see to appreciate. At Hammerstein’s on a topheavy hill he was one of the evening’s hit and without doubt is valuable card, for Willard will create comment, and with the advertising possibilities contained in his exhibition, should break into the record division if properly handled.

The Manhattan Trio

11 Mins.; One. The Manhattan Trio appear in opera cloaks or capes and carrying canes. Afterward they wear simple evening dress. It is some appearance when these three boys, graded in size (although their evening dress coats are all of the same length) strut upon the stage, and start to sing. They have a mixed selection of songs, doing their best with “Hats Off to You, Mr. Wilson.”  This put them over in an early spot. It’s hard to forget that the trio looked quite nifty with the capes and canes (almost English), and a kindly motive prompts the suggestion that they permit the capes and canes to become a part of the entire turn, not removing them while on the stage.


11 Mins.; One (5); Full Stage (8). Auremia is a female impersonator, who features “The Dance of Death” on the billing matter. This is the finale, a sort of snake dance, without the snake, but incense pots or something like that. The opening number is a song of roses, with the singer carrying some. Another song enters between the first and the dance, after which comes the disclosure that Auremia is a man, who wears nice clothes, that any woman single on the small time would sigh in envy. Female impersonators somehow appear to be more fortunate in procuring more extensive, elaborate and expensive wardrobe than women who merely sing. Perhaps impersonators command much higher salaries. Auremia, although “No. 2” on the Hammerstein bill (an early position this week, as it was the last week), did very well, the somewhat light house present when the disclosure occurred applauding as though wanting to hold up the show. As an impersonator in skirts, Auremia is better than the average.

“The Girl from Atlantic City.”

10 Mins.; One. It could be asked – Why blame it upon Atlantic City? – but from information which should be correct, Smiling Bunny Gray did play in Atlantic City – once, perhaps longer. Maybe she played in vaudeville. The Hammerstein program says she was found on the Boardwalk. That’s rough talk for a program to send over anent a featured attraction in Broadway’s big time vaudeville. And the program calls the young woman without a voice “Similing Bunny Gray.” Bunny didn’t live up to her billing Monday evening. She didn’t smile, but used up four songs, one a ballad, walked carelessly around the stage, some times stepped over the chain almost into the footlights, then stepped back again, not smiling even then, and the most noticeable indications were that bunny wanted to do “nut stuff,” but didn’t know how to go about it. Maybe she wasn’t familiar enough with her surroundings. But if Bunny is drawing a regular vaudeville salary for this week’s work, she can smile at that, although she isn’t apt to remain long in vaudeville. It’s probably back to the cabaret for Bunny, but Bunny won’t care if her listleness in working gives a true line on her hopes and ambitions. “She Sings Songs in Her Own Unique Way,” adds the program.