BOUGHT FROM 
 Laemmle Donation 
 
watrtcal Caricatures 
 
 BEING TWELVE PLATES BY 
 W. J., GLADDING 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND BIOGRAPHICAL 
 SKETCHES BY 
 
 LOUIS EVAN SHIPMAN 
 
 ^ublirfmonjSofCfjcSDuntop Jwictp. $eto ^criejtf l^o. 4. 
 ^etosiorfe, 1897. 
 
This is one of an edition of two hundred and sixty 
 copies printed for the Dunlap Society in the month 
 of December 1897. 
 
 
 
 PL&<y 
 
A GROUP OF 
 THEATRICAL CARICATURES 
 
A GROUP OF 
 THEATRICAL CARICATURES 
 
 BEIN.G TWELVE PLATES BY 
 
 W.J. GLADDING 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND BIOGRAPHICAL 
 SKETCHES BY 
 
 LOUIS EVAN SH1PMAN 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE DUNLAP SOCIETY 
 
 1897 
 
f 
 
 Copyright, 1897, by 
 Louis EVAN SHIPMAN 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 IF it were the intention of this introduction to trace 
 the story of caricature back through the middle 
 ages to its primal origin, as some claim, on the papyri 
 of the Egyptians, it would lose much of the brevity 
 that has been planned for it and serve but little pur- 
 pose. For those who want a history of caricature 
 there are numberless Encyclopedias of art. This little 
 foreword is merely to introduce the twelve caricatures 
 that form the chief interest of this publication of the 
 Dunlap Society, and to give their short history as it is 
 known to me. 
 
 In 1868, a Mr. W. J. Gladding, then an assistant in 
 the famous Fredericks photographic gallery, drew the 
 caricatures for Colonel T. Allston Brown, in whose 
 possession they remained for twenty-two years. He 
 disposed of them to a dealer in theatrical curiosities 
 named Walsh, from whom I purchased them in 1892 
 that is, I purchased eleven of them the one of Flor- 
 ence as Bob Brierly was missing and for that mat- 
 ter is missing to-day, but, curiously enough, Mr. 
 Evert Jansen Wendell, who now has the original 
 eleven, picked up a photograph of the missing one, 
 
 M205835 
 
^introduction. 
 
 and in that way made it possible to present the com- 
 plete group of plates. 
 
 It is needless to say that they have little if any ar- 
 tistic quality, but they are valuable and interesting in 
 as far as they give the likeness and characteristics of 
 their originals, and this they do surprisingly. 
 
 The rarity of theatrical caricatures is really aston- 
 ishing when one considers the numberless photographs, 
 engravings, sketches, and paintings there are of actors, 
 but few even of the largest dramatic collections have 
 anything of the sort, and one has to arrive at the con- 
 clusion that actors have comparatively been very sel- 
 dom caricatured. Whether this is because they are 
 in a way caricaturists themselves I don't know ; it 
 seems plausible enough, but the fact nevertheless re- 
 mains, and I think the members of the Dunlap Society, 
 in having these presented to them, can congratulate 
 themselves on the possession of an altogether unique 
 collection of plates. 
 
 In the little biographical sketches that accompany 
 them I have aimed at no particular completeness, 
 dwelling only on those incidents which seemed more 
 important, and on occasion giving some reminiscence 
 or anecdote that might lay claim to novelty or espe- 
 cial interest. I commend them to the leniency of all 
 students of our stage history. To others they may 
 furnish their own excuse for being. 
 
 Louis EVAN SHIPMAN. 
 THE PLAYERS, NOVEMBER, 1897. 
 
JOHN BROUGHAM. 
 
JOHN BROUGHAM. 
 
 PR nearly forty years, as actor, manager, and play- 
 vright, John Brougham, save for the period cov- 
 ering the Civil War, which was spent in London, was 
 constantly before the New York public, a public no- 
 where near so vast and conglomerate as that . which 
 supports the play-houses of to-day, and whose re- 
 lations with its entertainers was therefore of a much 
 more intimate and personal character. And even in 
 those days when stage favorites were favorites indeed, 
 Brougham seems to have been singled out for particu- 
 lar approval. Born in Dublin in 1810, of gentle fam- 
 ily, he followed the path of most Irish young gentle- 
 men, prepared for and entered Trinity College, and 
 afterward studied medicine. The insidious influence 
 of private theatricals was too much for him, however, 
 and he journeyed to London intent on entering the 
 "profession," which he did in 1830. His experiences 
 for ten years in and out of London were varied and 
 valuable, from playing small parts under Madame 
 Vestris at the Olympic, and later with Charles Mathews 
 at Covent Garden, to the management of the Lyceum, 
 which resulted disastrously, as did all his future mana- 
 
 3 
 
Caricature^ 
 
 gerial attempts, and from the writing of numberless, 
 now forgotten farces and burlesques, to collaboration 
 with Mark Lemon and Dion Boucicault. Indeed, we 
 have very good authority for the statement that he 
 suggested the idea of " London Assurance " to Bouci- 
 cault, receiving half the sum paid for the piece. 
 
 His first appearance in New York was at the old 
 Park Theater, and with the exception of the interim I 
 have mentioned the rest of his life was spent here. 
 There is no need to record the story of his career in 
 New York : older members of the Dunlap Society are 
 familiar with it, and it is easily accessible to the younger 
 through Dr. Benjamin Ellis Martin's admirable little 
 biography in the " Actors and Actors of Great Britain 
 and America " series. 
 
 John Brougham was among the last of a group of 
 Irishmen on the stage that for personal charm, grace, 
 and humor, we will probably never see equaled. 
 Tyrone Power, John Drew, W. J. Florence, and John 
 Brougham are only names now, but the memory of 
 them brings smiles and tears to the old playgoer's 
 face ; what have we youngsters to look forward to ? 
 
 In conclusion, I have thought it would be of interest 
 to quote the lines on tobacco from his most amusing 
 burlesque " Pocahontas " and the vision of the new 
 world from his " Columbus." 
 
 The first he delivered in the character of "H. J. Pow- 
 hatan /, King of the Tuscaroras a crotchetty mon- 
 arch, in fact a semi-brave." It is in this part that the 
 accompanying caricature represents him. The apos- 
 trophe to the pipe is this : 
 
Cfjeatricai Caricatured 
 
 While other joys one sense alone can measure 
 This to all senses gives extatic pleasure. 
 You feel the radiance of the glowing bowl, 
 Hear the soft murmurs of the kindling coal, 
 Smell the sweet fragrance of the honey -dew, 
 Taste its strong pungency the palate through, 
 See the blue cloudlets circling to the dome 
 Imprisoned skies up floating to their home. 
 
 As Don Christoval Colon, alias Columbus, a clair- 
 voyant voyager whose filibustering expedition gave 
 rise at the time to a world of speculation, he deliv- 
 ered the following, the king serving as a " feeder." 
 
 King. Just as sure as fate 
 
 He 's in a beautiful clairvoyant state ! 
 Columbus ! Why are you in such amaze ? 
 
 Col. Time onward passes, and my mental gaze 
 Is on the future, lo ! I see a land 
 Where nature seems to frame with practised hand 
 Her last most wonderous work ! before me rise 
 Mountains of solid rock that rift the skies, 
 Imperial vallies with rich verdure crowned 
 For leagues illimitable smile around, 
 While through them subject seas for rivers run 
 From ice bound tracts to where the tropic sun 
 Breeds in the teeming ooze strange monstrous things 
 I see upswelling from exhaustless springs, 
 Great lakes appear upon whose surface wide 
 The banded navies of the earth may ride, 
 I see tremendous cataracts emerge 
 From cloud aspiring heights, whose slippery verge 
 Tremendous oceans momently roll o'er, 
 Assaulting with unmitigated roar 
 The stunned and shattered ear of trembling day 
 That wounded, weeps in glistening tears of spray ! 
 
 King. We grieve your sensibility to shock, 
 
Cgcatrical Caricatures 
 
 See something else or down will go our stock. 
 Col. I see upspringing from the fruitful breast 
 
 Of the beneficent and boundless West, 
 
 Uncounted acres of life-giving grain, 
 
 Wave o'er the gently undulating plain, 
 
 So tall each blade that you can scarcely touch 
 
 The top ! 
 
 King. Ah ! now, my blade, you see too much. 
 Col. Within the limits of the southern zone 
 
 I see plantations, thickly overgrown 
 
 With a small shrub in whose white flower lies 
 
 A revenue of millions ! 
 King. You surprise 
 
 Us now, we '11 cotton to that tree ! 
 
 Go on, old fellow, what else do you see ? 
 Col. Some withered weeds 
 
 King. Pooh ! 
 
 Col. From which men can evoke 
 
 Profit as wonderful ! 
 
 King. From what ? 
 
 CoL From smoke. 
 King. Ah, now you 're in the clouds again. Good gracious 
 
 Think of the stock, and don't be so fugacious. 
 Col. I see a river, through whose limpid stream, 
 
 Pactoius like, the yellow pebbles gleam ; 
 
 Flowing through regions, where great heaps of gold, 
 
 Uncared for, lie in affluence untold, 
 
 Thick as autumnal leaves, the precious store. 
 King. My eyes ! why did n't you see that before ? 
 
 We '11 go ourself, we mean we shall " go in." 
 
 Go on. 
 Col. I see small villages begin, 
 
 Like twilight stars, to peep forth timidly, 
 
 Great distances apart ; and now I see 
 
 Towns, swol'n to cities, burst upon the sight, 
 
 Thick as the crowded firmament at night. 
 
 I see brave science, with inspired soul, 
 
J)0atricaI tfaricatureg. 
 
 Subdue the elements to its control ; 
 
 On iron ways, through rock and mountain riven, 
 
 Impelling mighty freights, by vapor driven ; 
 
 Or with electric nerves so interlace 
 
 The varied points of universal space. 
 
 Thought answers thought, though scores of miles be- 
 tween 
 
 Time is outstripped 
 
 King. We 're not so jolly green. 
 
 My friend, come, ain't you getting rather steep ? 
 
 We beg to probability you '11 keep. 
 
 What see you now ? 
 Col. The plethora of wealth 
 
 Corrupt and undermine the general health. 
 
 I see vile madd'ning fumes incite to strife, 
 
 Obscure the sense and whet the murderer's knife. 
 
 I see dead rabbits 
 
 which goes to show that Brougham, with all his fool- 
 ing, had something of the prophet in him too. 
 
 Eventually Columbus sets out on his perilous voyage 
 but is endangered by the mutiny of his sailors. Co- 
 lumbia very opportunely appears and quells them as 
 follows : 
 
 Enter COLUMBIA. 
 Colum. She 's here ! 
 
 [Sailors shrink back in affright. 
 Col. I 'm saved ! 
 Colum. What means this horrid din ? 
 
 If it 's a free fight, you can count me in ! 
 So many against one, now understand 
 To aid the weak I '11 always be on hand ! 
 
ljeatrical Caricatured 
 
 Col. The Indian Empire 's mine, your threats I mock 
 
 Rebellious -SVapoys, now /"have-a-lock," 
 
 Will shut you up ! 
 Sane ho. Hallo ! My precious wig, 
 
 Here 's a strange craft with a new fangled rig ! 
 
 Where do you hail from ? 
 Colum. Back, senseless crew ! 
 
 'T is just such mindless reprobates as you 
 
 That mar the calculations of the wise, 
 
 And clog the wheels of glorious enterprize ! 
 Pedro. Pshaw ! this palaver, ma'm 's all very well, 
 
 But where we 're driving to if you could tell, 
 
 We 'd like it better. 
 Colum. [To Columbus]. You are not so blind 
 
 But in the passing current you can find 
 
 Sure indications that the land is near. 
 Col. Within my heart I thought so, but the fear 
 
 Of raising hopes the end might not fulfil, 
 
 Stifled the new-born thought, and kept me still. 
 
 See ! See ! What 's floating there ? 
 Sancho. By jingo! greens! 
 
 And now I smell 
 
 Pedro. What ? Orange groves ? 
 
 Sancho. No, pork and beans ! 
 Pedro. Hogs ! then hurrah ! our tribulation ends, 
 
 It 's very clear^we 're getting among friends ! 
 Bartol. Look, look, here 's something else now passing by. 
 
 \_They fish up a piece of Connecticut pastry. 
 All. What is it? 
 
 Colum. What, you pumps, why pumpkin-pie ! 
 Sancho. What 's this ? 
 
 {Fishes up immense walking-stick with knobs on it. 
 A knobby stick ; and on the knob 
 
 Inscribed distinctly 
 All. What? 
 
J)catricaI Caricature^ 
 
 Sane ho. " The Empire Club. 
 
 " The owner fitly will reward the finders 
 
 " If it 's returned " 
 All. To whom ? 
 
 Sancho. " To Marshall Rynders." 
 
 [ A Play-Bill is fished up. 
 
 All. What's this? 
 
 Colum. A bill of Burton's Theatre, you noodles ! 
 
 Col. What are they doing now there ? 
 
 Colum. " Sleek and Toodles." 
 
 Col. I hear the birds. 
 
 Colum. They 're cat-birds if you do. 
 
 Col. The cat-bird's song must be " the wild sea-mew," 
 There 's music somewhere nigh. 
 
 Colum. Don't be emphatic, 
 
 It 's Dodworth's band on board the Adriatic, 
 She '11 pass us soon upon her trial trip, 
 Look at her well, Columbus, such a ship 
 You never saw and never will, I swow, 
 Unless he dream it, as he/s doing now. 
 
 [ The Adriatic passes across, the Band playing " Yankee Doodle." 1 
 
 Colum. See where she steams majestically down. 
 
 Sancho. My eyes and limbs, why, it 's a floating town ! 
 
 Col. Right against wind and tide and not a sail, 
 The Flying Dutchman, that is, without fail : 
 Hurrah ! look there, I '11 take my oath I spy land ! 
 
 Colum. Of course you do. 
 
 Col. What is it ? 
 
 Colum. Coney Island ! 
 
 [All the sailors cluster around Columbus. 
 
 Sancho. Oh, glorious admiral, upon our knees 
 
 We ask forgiveness 
 Col. See what men are these 
 
 Attired in such extraordinary style ? 
 
io l)eatrical Caricature^ 
 
 Colum. They are the magnates of Manhatta's Isle. 
 
 Every distinguished guest they're bound to meet 
 And feed Don't fear, they can afford to treat, 
 For hospitality 's a public trait, 
 Therefore the public can't object to pay. 
 
 These are but specimens of Brougham's fooling, 
 taken at random. There are hundreds of others 
 equally good, and it seems to me they might well 
 bear resuscitation. 
 
Jofin Hester MDallacli, 
 
JOHN LESTER WALLACK. 
 
JOHN LESTER WALLACK. 
 
 THERE is no name more intimately or more 
 proudly connected with the American stage than 
 that of Wallack. From the year 1818, when the elder 
 Wallack, James William, made his first appearance in 
 America at the Park Theater, down to the present 
 time, the Wallack family has been represented on the 
 play-bills of our theaters almost continuously. It was 
 only yesterday that I saw on a Philadelphia bill of a 
 play called " A Ward of France," the name of Lester 
 Wallack, the grandson of the subject of this little 
 sketch. 
 
 John Johnstone Wallack, or, as most of his biogra- 
 phers have it, John Lester Wallack, was born in New 
 York in the year 1820, on the first visit of his father 
 and mother to this country. He was taken back to 
 England while still an infant, and his childhood and 
 youth were passed in that country ; the effects of the 
 training and associations of his early life were very 
 marked always, and his extreme partiality for persons 
 and things English was always noticeable. 
 
 He was intended for the army, but the family tradi- 
 tion pushed aside all thought of arms as a profession, 
 
 13 
 
14 fjeatritai Caricature^ 
 
 and he commenced his apprenticeship by the usual 
 provincial routine, which finally, in 1846, led to a 
 London engagement at the Haymarket, under Web- 
 ster's management. It was in the next year that he 
 made his first appearance in New York at the old 
 Broadway Theater, in the character of Sir Charles 
 Coldstream in " Used Up." Then, and for years after, 
 in fact until the opening of the second Wallack's 
 Theater what is now the Star in 1861, his name 
 appeared on all bills as " Mr. Lester." And for the 
 next six years this " Mr. Lester," now at the Bowery, 
 next at Burton's, then at Niblo's, and almost every 
 other theater in the town, began to build the reputa- 
 tion that will carry his name forward in dramatic 
 annals as one of the most charming, dashing, and facile 
 comedians that ever graced the stage. 
 
 In 1852 his father opened the first Wallack's Thea- 
 ter, at Broadway and Broome Street, and he joined his 
 fortunes with the house that eventually became so 
 closely identified with himself. Here for nine years 
 he ranged through comedy, farce, and melodrama, 
 even trying his hand at dramatization with no little 
 success. His best known and most successful play, 
 " Rosedale," was produced after the move from 
 Broome Street to Thirteenth Street and Broadway, 
 which took place in 1861. I had the pleasure once, 
 when a lad of fifteen or sixteen, of seeing him as Elliot 
 Gray in that play, and I still have a vivid impression 
 of the gallant, comely figure he made. The good for- 
 tune was mine, too, to see him several times later, and 
 I particularly remember him as Young Marlow in " She 
 
CfteatricaJ Caricature^ 15 
 
 Stoops to Conquer," and as Colonel White in " Home." 
 Always delightfully cool and self-possessed, with the 
 well-bred, well-poised manner of the experienced gen- 
 tleman, it causes no wonder, as one reads now, that 
 he was the idol of the town. His father dying in 
 1864, the management of the theater devolved upon 
 him, and for nearly twenty years he bent his best ener- 
 gies to giving the public a theater that was a credit to 
 its intelligence and taste. There was no place for the 
 speculative manager in those days : he is a modern 
 product, and the worst I can say of him is that the 
 modern playgoer deserves him ! Lester Wallack lived 
 to see the new order of things, but as long as his 
 hand was at the managerial helm, there was no lower- 
 ing of standards. 
 
 On January 4, 1882, Wallack's made its last move 
 to the corner of Thirtieth Street and Broadway. Les- 
 ter Wallack retained the management until 1887, act- 
 ing occasionally there, but more frequently " starring " 
 in other cities. His last appearance as an actor was 
 May 29, 1886, at the Grand Opera House, over on 
 Twenty-third Street and Eighth Avenue. He played 
 Young Marlow with John Gilbert and Madame 
 Ponisi as Mr. and Mrs. Hardcastle. Two years later, 
 on the night of May 21, after a most wonderful per- 
 formance of" Hamlet," given by his fellow-players in 
 his honor, he made the last speech the public his 
 public were ever to hear. I can remember now 
 the erect figure, with the almost leonine head covered 
 with white, leaning slightly on the table at his side, 
 and speaking the last words to the enormous audience 
 
16 {>eatrical Caricature^ 
 
 that was there to greet him. The occasion had more 
 than ordinary significance : it was a visible passing of 
 the old order of things dramatic, and the feeling with 
 which he made his adieux was communicated to 
 those who sat before him. They were not to look 
 upon his like again. He died the following September. 
 
<btoin jforregt 
 
EDWIN FORREST. 
 
EDWIN FORREST. 
 
 IF the reader will scrutinize the Forrest plate care- 
 fully, he will make out the dim penciled inscrip- 
 tion underneath the figure. " The Great head Centre," 
 it reads, and though written with comic intent, it 
 serves admirably as a terse description of Forrest's 
 position on the American stage. In his day he was 
 " The Great head Centre." 
 
 He was born in Philadelphia in 1806, and when but 
 a lad of fourteen made his first public appearance as 
 Young Norval in " Douglas." The success of the 
 boy was such that he was permitted to choose the 
 stage as his profession, and while the drudgery of his 
 novitiate was no less irksome to him than to the many 
 others who have traveled the same path, yet recogni- 
 tion and success came to him earlier. 
 
 He played " Othello " at the Bowery Theater in 
 1826, and reached in one night the top round. His 
 success was assured and fortune smiled upon him. 
 In 1834 he went abroad and again in 1836, when his 
 success in London in such characters as Spartacus, 
 Lear, Macbeth, and Othello, was extraordinary. It 
 was during this visit to England that he became en- 
 gaged to and married Miss Catherine Sinclair. 
 19 
 
20 
 
 Cl)ratrical Caricature^* 
 
 His return to America was made almost a matter 
 of national importance and his tour of the principal 
 cities was a triumphant progress of the nation's greatest 
 actor. Then followed eight or nine years of uninter- 
 rupted prosperity, during which fortune kept pace 
 with his fame. He went to London again in 1845, 
 and there the clouds began to gather that eventually 
 embittered and broke his life. On his opening night 
 he was received with hisses, and a few nights later he 
 was compelled to close his engagement. 
 
 Forrest furiously charged Macready, the great Eng- 
 lish actor, with this attempt to drive him from the 
 London stage, and some weeks later took occasion to 
 publicly show his feelings by hissing Macready during 
 a performance of " Hamlet " in the provinces. This 
 was the beginning of the quarrel that a few years 
 later, in 1848, on the occasion of Macready's next 
 visit to America, resulted so tragically. 
 
 From the first moment of the English actor's 
 arrival theater-goers were divided into two hostile 
 camps. Macready made foolish speeches before the 
 curtain, and Forrest made bitter responses. It all 
 culminated on the night of May 10, 1849, when 
 Macready was playing in " Macbeth " at the Astor Place 
 Opera House. The theater was surrounded by a 
 howling, senseless mob, who almost demolished the 
 building with a storm of missiles. The Seventh Regi- 
 ment had been called out as a precautionary measure, 
 and when the rioters were ordered to disperse, they 
 turned furiously upon the troops and attacked them. 
 Thirty of the rabble were killed, and many of the 
 
ftratrieal Caricature^. 21 
 
 soldiers were seriously hurt, among them Mr. Douglas 
 Taylor, then a young private in the Seventh, now 
 President of the Dunlap Society a link with the 
 past that serves wonderfully to keep alive the realiza- 
 tion that this was all but yesterday. Macready es- 
 caped to Boston and returned to England, profoundly 
 affected by the terrible ending of the petty quarrel, 
 while Forrest was no less shocked at its fatal outcome. 
 
 Only a few years were to pass till the other great 
 tragedy of Forrest's life, his divorce, took place. I 
 mention it here simply because it was an extraordi- 
 nary case, contested with great bitterness and determi- 
 nation on both sides, and resulting, as it did, disastrously 
 to Forrest, who brought the original suit, had a tre- 
 mendous influence over his future career. I go into 
 no details, for they are given at length in Alger's 
 admirable life. To Mrs. Forrest alone was granted a 
 divorce, and the fees which Forrest was forced to pay 
 amounted to nearly two hundred thousand dollars. 
 His pride was somewhat assuaged, however, by the 
 tremendous outburst of enthusiasm which everywhere 
 greeted his return to the stage, but his spirit was never 
 the same afterward. 
 
 He toured the country for several years, but eventu- 
 ally retired to his home in Philadelphia for a well- 
 earned rest, and it was in an ill-advised moment that 
 four years later he emerged into public once more. 
 His success was enormous, and he played in " Ham- 
 let," "Lear," " Othello," "Richard III," "The Gladi- 
 ator," "Damon and Pythias," "Richelieu," "Jack 
 Cade," "Virginius," and "Metamora" at Niblo's 
 
22 
 
 J)eatrical Caricature^ 
 
 Garden to a generation of theater-goers that knew 
 him only by reputation; but already his wonderful 
 powers were on the wane, and the succeeding years 
 found them dwindling away, until there was but a 
 spark of the old fire left when he made his last ap- 
 pearance as an actor in Boston at the Globe Theater, 
 April 2, 1872. "Richelieu" was the play, and the 
 curtain fell on the prophetic line : " So ends it." 
 
 He died on September i2th of the same year in 
 Philadelphia. The Forrest Home for aged actors, in 
 Philadelphia, which he amply endowed, is a memorial 
 to the man's generosity. His genius as an actor is 
 little more than a memory now. But it is a duty for 
 all chroniclers of the American stage to pass on the 
 tradition of his greatness. He was a great actor and 
 worthy of that tradition. 
 
EDWIN BOOTH. 
 
EDWIN BOOTH. 
 
 TT would seem that the last necessary word had been 
 L written about Edwin Booth. What with the ample 
 and sympathetic " Life " by William Winter, and the 
 reminiscences of various friends that have appeared in 
 one form or another at different times recently, there 
 seems little if anything left to say. And yet in this 
 group of twelve, there is no man about whom it would 
 give me such pleasure to write. I have distinct and 
 vivid impressions of many of the occurrences of the 
 last few years of his life, and I treasure immensely the 
 remembrance of those last gentle months which he 
 spent at the Players. Of course, I was but one of a 
 mixed many that passed before him in those days, but 
 I have the special memory of several anecdotal winter 
 afternoons, spent, with only two or three others, in 
 company with the Master. His favorite nook in the 
 Players was a corner in the front of the reading-room, 
 and there, ensconced in a huge grandfather chair, he 
 spent many an afternoon in the winter of 1892-93; 
 dropping at times into delightful reminiscence, and 
 then again showing a lively interest in the events 
 of the day. Always cheerful, simple, courteous, and 
 4 25 
 
26 Cleatticai 4taricatutc* 
 
 sympathetic, the brave gentleman, weighed with the 
 burden of ill-health, won the affection of all who 
 had the happy chance of knowing him. But I run far 
 ahead of my story or rather his and I must give 
 the full quota of biographical dates that is called for 
 by a sketch of this sort, or be charged with neglect of 
 duty. 
 
 Edwin Thomas Booth was born at Belair in Har- 
 ford County, Maryland, in 1833. His father, Junius 
 Brutus Booth, was one of the great tragedians of the 
 early part of the century, being rivaled only by Kean 
 himself. He was thirty-seven years old at the time of 
 Edwin's birth, and at the height of his power and suc- 
 cess. At a very early age Edwin became the com- 
 panion of his father on the latter's professional tours 
 about the country, and there grew up between the two 
 an extraordinary attachment that had a lasting and 
 important influence on the younger man's life. The 
 somber, erratic genius of the father stamped itself on 
 the impressionable and sympathetic boy, whose tem- 
 perament and nature were much akin to his parent's. 
 
 When but sixteen years old he made his first ap- 
 pearance on the stage at the Boston Museum, playing 
 Tressel to his father's Richard ///, and very success- 
 fully, too ; and not very long afterward he played the 
 part of Richard himself at the National Theater, New 
 York. 
 
 In 1852 he was playing in California with his father, 
 who shortly died, leaving Edwin and an older brother, 
 Junius Brutus Booth, Jr., playing together in the West. 
 They journeyed to the Sandwich Islands, and even as 
 
ljeatrital Caricatured 2 7 
 
 far as Australia, then back again to California, steadily 
 learning and improving in the actor's bitter school of ex- 
 perience. Boston was the scene of his first appearance 
 as a " star." In the spring of 1857 he played Sir Giles 
 Overreach, and was splendidly successful. The follow- 
 ing month he played Richard III. at the Metropolitan 
 Theater in New York, and there established himself 
 as the coming tragedian. Forrest's star was on the 
 wane; the elder Wallack was playing his farewell 
 engagements, and there were no other rivals in the 
 field, which was soon to be his alone, and over which 
 he held undisputed sway for the rest of his life. 
 
 In 1860 he married Miss Mary Devlin, and in the 
 following year made his first visit to England. Open- 
 ing at the Haymarket in the " Merchant of Venice," 
 he played a round of the stock characters, with but 
 indifferent success, until at the end of his engagement 
 " Richelieu " was produced. In that he made a de- 
 cided impression, but he was unable to follow it up, 
 as he was compelled to return to the States. His wife 
 died in 1863, a tremendous blow that found its only 
 alleviation in hard, all-engrossing work. He took a 
 lease of the Winter Garden Theater in conjunction 
 with his brother-in-law Clarke and William Stuart, and 
 on November 26, 1864, the famous one hundred night 
 run of " Hamlet " began. It was an artistic and com- 
 plete production in every respect, and established 
 Booth's position beyond cavil. After its finish in 
 New York it was produced in Boston, but its run 
 there was interrupted on April 14 by the great tragedy 
 that threw the country into consternation and that for 
 
28 Cljcatrital Caricature^ 
 
 the moment blotted out entirely Booth's career. It was 
 on the night of April 14 that his brother John Wilkes 
 Booth assassinated President Lincoln. I have heard 
 a story, no doubt apocryphal, that it was the following 
 morning before the news was brought to Edwin, and 
 then in this way : His colored body-servant entered his 
 room and asked, " Have you heard the news, Massa 
 Edwin ? " " What news ? " " Mr. Lincoln has been 
 murdered." "Murdered!" "Yes. Massa Wilkes shot 
 him last night ! " The story is brutal enough to be true, 
 but, however the word was brought to him, he was over- 
 whelmed by the calamity and retired from the stage. 
 
 His sensitive, almost morbid nature never recov- 
 ered from that shock and the memory of it was al- 
 ways near the surface. I remember an incident that 
 occurred in 1891, after almost thirty years, which illus- 
 trates this. A young man just elected to membership in 
 the Players thought to show his appreciation of the 
 honor by presenting some token or relic to the beloved 
 founder of the club. He bought a play-bill of the per- 
 formance which President Lincoln attended on the 
 night of his assassination, and presented it to Mr. 
 Booth one afternoon at the Players. The dear old 
 gentleman after one glance at it turned pale, and in 
 great agitation left the room. He was seen later in his 
 apartments by one of his oldest friends, and he had 
 somewhat recovered his equanimity, and with his 
 gentleness and accustomed consideration for others he 
 remarked : " I think I should take it as a compliment 
 that the present generation seems to have forgotten 
 entirely my connection with that bitter tragedy." 
 
ljcatrical Caricature^ 29 
 
 There is a. little touch of irony in the fact that the 
 young man's play -bill was a spurious one. 
 
 Mr. William Winter says that only necessity brought 
 Booth back to the stage, and one can well believe it. 
 He reappeared in New York at the Winter Garden in 
 1866, and received an ovation, and on his subsequent 
 tour through the country he was greeted everywhere 
 generously and cordially. But he never acted in 
 Washington again. The Winter Garden was destroyed 
 in 1867, but the following year, in April, saw the corner- 
 stone laid for a new Booth's Theater at the corner of 
 Twenty-third Street and Sixth Avenue. Nearly a 
 million dollars was spent in its erection, and Booth 
 devoted all his time, energy, and experience in its be- 
 half. The most splendid productions of the standard 
 drama ever seen in this country were given there, and 
 the whole enterprise was dedicated to art. But either 
 the time was not ripe for the enterprise, or else the busi- 
 ness management was not what it should have been, 
 and in 1874 the theater which he had given the best 
 in him to found passed out of his hands. 
 
 Mr. Winter quotes from a manuscript note of Booth's 
 referring to his non-success : " I had no desire for gain. 
 My only hope was t<5 establish the pure, legitimate 
 drama in New York, and by my example to incite 
 others, actors and managers, to continue the good 
 work." A Utopian dream, as far, if not further, from 
 realization in our day than it was in his. 
 
 In 1869 Booth married Miss Mary McVickar, who, 
 as Mr. Winter says, was "remarkable for practical 
 administrative ability in the affairs of business and so- 
 
30 CJjeatrital Caricature^ 
 
 cial life, rather than for conspicuous talent in acting. 
 She possessed neither the figure, the countenance, the 
 voice, nor the personal charm that are essential for 
 great success upon the stage, and her acting, although 
 intelligent, was devoid of both tenderness and power. 
 She acted all along the range, from Lady Macbeth to 
 Ophelia." Mrs. Booth lived for twelve years after her 
 marriage, dying in 1881. 
 
 Booth never attempted management again; the rest 
 of his career he entrusted himself to the management 
 of others. He went to England in 1880 and had a 
 moderately successful engagement in London, winding 
 up with a few joint performances with Henry Irving at 
 the Lyceum, Booth playing Othello, Irving lago, 
 and Miss Terry Desdemona. For this engagement the 
 prices of the theater were doubled, and the Lyceum 
 was packed night after night. Too much cannot be 
 said in praise of Mr. Irving's generosity and thought- 
 fulness toward his brother artist. And it is a satisfac- 
 tion to know that Americans have never forgotten it. 
 Again in 1882 he played in London and the provinces, 
 and in January, 1883, he appeared at the Resedenz 
 Theater in Berlin. His success there was followed by 
 similar successes in the smaller German cities, and also 
 in Vienna. He returned home in the summer of that 
 year and never again ventured abroad, though he often 
 said his visit to Germany was one of the most delight- 
 ful episodes of his life. 
 
 The next ten years were given up to starring tours 
 about the country, with occasional intermissions for 
 rest. In 1885 he played in New York with Ristori, 
 
3Tf)eatrical Caricature^ 31 
 
 and in 1886 he and Salvini acted together. The fol- 
 lowing year he joined his fortunes with Mr. Lawrence 
 Barrett, and under the management of that intelligent 
 actor the combination thrived to a very extraordinary 
 degree, and Booth's share of the profits was a nucleus 
 for the considerable fortune that he left at the time of 
 his death. 
 
 Mr. Barrett died suddenly in 1891, and on April 
 4 of that year Booth made his last appearance on the 
 stage in the Brooklyn Academy of Music. The play 
 was " Hamlet," and though there was no announce- 
 ment that it was to be his last performance, the theater 
 was packed with an audience that showed keenly how 
 impressive the occasion was. I shall never forget 
 how we hung on the great actor's every word, and 
 watched his every movement. His Hamlet, always 
 an exquisitely beautiful performance, clear, simple, and 
 wonderfully dignified, was never given with finer feel- 
 ing or better effect. He was called time and again 
 after the final fall of the curtain, and was forced at 
 last to make a little speech. In the streets a crowd 
 that completely filled the street had massed itself to 
 witness his departure from the theater, and there were 
 loud cheers as he drove away. 
 
 His health never permitted him to act again, and 
 the two years that remained to him were spent mostly 
 at his apartments in the Players, that monument to 
 his generosity and thoughtfulness for which men of all 
 arts and professions have to be thankful. There, sur- 
 rounded by many old friends, he passed his last days, 
 happy in the prosperity of the club which he had 
 
3 2 Cfjeatrical Caricatured 
 
 founded, and to the end taking an active interest in 
 its affairs. 
 
 He died in his apartments there, June 8, 1893, and 
 was buried in the beautiful Mount Auburn Cemetery 
 at Cambridge, Mass. More versatile actors may have 
 lived, but never a greater. 
 
jfforencc. 
 

 WILLIAM J. FLORENCE. 
 
WILLIAM J. FLORENCE. 
 
 T7LORENCE was one of the last of the old-school 
 J/ comedians, and he was one of the best. I should 
 rank him not one whit below Jefferson, and in so do- 
 ing would honor him no less than Jefferson, whose 
 professional companion he was during the last seasons 
 of his professional career. The present generation of 
 theater-goers should be thankful for the memory of 
 his Sir Lucius G 1 Trigger (one of the most charming 
 and delightful performances I ever saw, full of ele- 
 gance, dash, and humor) ; and if some years before 
 they were in the theater when they should have been 
 at home abed, they will have youthful remembrance 
 of his Captain Cuttle, Bardwell Slote, and Obenreizer. 
 I have such a remembrance, and treasure it, though it 
 is a rather vague one none the less so as I looked 
 upon stage happenings in those days from a great 
 height. 
 
 William Jermyn Florence was born at Albany, New 
 York, in 1831, and, like Brougham, and so many 
 others, found the straight path to his profession 
 through the door which the amateur stage flung open 
 to him. He made his first professional appearance in 
 35 
 
s 6 tjeatrical Caricatured 
 
 New York in 1850 at Niblo's Garden, then under the 
 management of Brougham and Chippendale, in a 
 small part, and, after several seasons of those actors' 
 bugbears, " small parts," he was intrusted with better 
 things. His first real " hit " was made at the Lyceum, 
 still under Brougham's management, in the " Row at 
 the Lyceum." 
 
 Mr. Laurence Hutton, in his interesting and valua- 
 ble " Plays and Players," gives the following account 
 of that performance : 
 
 " The curtain rose to a crowded house on a scene at 
 rehearsal, after the manner of Sheridan's ' Critic.' The 
 actors and actresses, in their ordinary street dresses, 
 looking in every respect like the not more than ordi- 
 nary men and women they really were ... It was 
 the green-room proper of a theater, with all the green- 
 room accessories and surroundings, the scenes and in- 
 cidents, concords and discords of a green-room gath- 
 ering. . . . Mr. Dunn as Mr. Dunn, Tom the Call 
 Boy as Tom, and Mrs. Vernon as Mrs. Vernon were 
 very natural of course, and very funny . . . The 
 audience was thoroughly interested and amused at 
 the realism of the performance, when, ' Enter Mrs. 
 B.' the scene changes, and the ' Row at the Lyceum ' 
 begins. While she greets her friends, looks over her 
 part, objects to her business, and lays claim to some- 
 thing more in her line, a stout, middle-aged gentleman 
 seated in the middle of the pit, clothed in Quakerish 
 garb, who had hitherto quietly listened to and laughed 
 with the rest, rises suddenly in his place with umbrella 
 firmly clasped in both hands and held up on a line 
 
Cgeatrical Caricature^ 37 
 
 with his nose, and to the astonishment of the house, 
 calmly and sedately addresses the stage and the house 
 in words to this effect : * That woman looks for all the 
 world like Clementina ! Her voice is very like the 
 form the same.' And then with emphasis: ' It is my 
 wife ' at the same time leaving his seat in great ex- 
 citement, he rushes toward the foot-lights, and cries 
 wildly and loudly, ' Come off that stage, thou miser- 
 able woman ! ' 
 
 " The utmost confusion reigned in the theater. The 
 audience, at first amused by the interruption, seeing 
 that the Quaker gentleman was in earnest, soon took 
 sides for or against him, and saluted him with all 
 sorts of encouraging and discouraging cries, as he 
 fought his way toward the orchestra. . . . 
 
 " Up in the third tier, in a corner near the stage, in 
 prominent position, visible to all, was one particularly 
 ' gallus ' boy a fireman, red-shirted, soap-locked, 
 with tilted tile, a pure specimen of the now obsolete 
 b'hoy Mose himself. He added greatly to the ex- 
 citement of the scene, by the loud and personal in- 
 terest he seemed to take in the proceedings, and 
 promised to give the indignant husband a sound 
 lamming if he ventured to lay a hand on that young 
 'oman ; volunteering if the indignant husband would 
 wait for him to go down and do it then and there; 
 proceeding then and there to go down and do it ! 
 
 " At this stage of the proceedings, the dramatic per- 
 formances of ' Green Room Secrets ' were entirely 
 stopped. The artists were utterly unable to proceed 
 on account of the uproar in front. . . . 
 
3* fjeatrical Caricature^ 
 
 " All this time the irate husband was struggling to 
 reach his wife. He finally climbed over the orchestra, 
 the red-shirted defender of the young woman close 
 behind him, when both were collared by a policeman 
 or two, dragged upon the stage, made to face the 
 house, the regulation stage semicircle was formed 
 behind the footlights, and the epilogue was spoken, 
 the audience beginning to recognize in the efficient 
 policemen the supes of the establishment ; in the fire- 
 laddie of the soap-lock and tilted tile, Mr. W. J. 
 Florence; in the indignant husband, Mr. Brougham 
 himself; in the recovered wife, Mrs. Brougham; and 
 to realize that the ' Row at the Lyceum ' was a pre- 
 meditated and magnificent sell." 
 
 After this, the conquest of the town was no task, and 
 Florence soon became a favorite. In 1853 he married 
 Miss Malvina Pray, and they shared success together 
 for many years after. They were very successful in a 
 London engagement at Drury Lane, in 1856, and 
 later in a joint starring tour over the United States. 
 In 1863 Florence made his first appearance as Bob 
 Brierly in the famous " Ticket-of-Leave Man," which 
 was played for thousands of nights throughout the 
 country. It is in this character that Gladding has 
 chosen to caricature him. As George D'Alroy in 
 that rather dreary old play " Caste," he made another 
 hit and started the play on a long career. Mrs. Flor- 
 ence played Polly Eccles, and I can imagine her as 
 nothing less than delightful as that breezy and uncon- 
 ventional young lady. " Caste " was followed by 
 " No Thoroughfare " and a revival of " Dombey and 
 
^Theatrical Caricatures. 39 
 
 Son " in which he took Burton's old part of Captain 
 Cuttle, playing it admirably too. He not only took 
 Burton's part but wore Burton's clothes, iron hook and 
 all ; and there is a very good story in connection with 
 this that has n't been often told before. Florence, as 
 every one knows, was a great practical joker, and 
 among his many butts was one Gus Fenno, an actor 
 in the company, who laid himself particularly open to 
 practical jesting as he was a spiritualist. At one of the 
 early rehearsals of " Dombey and Son," when Florence 
 appeared at the prompter's table, he found Fenno there 
 and tremendous rappings sounded. "What is the 
 matter now ? " questioned Florence, laughingly. 
 " Burton is here," answered Fenno. " What does he 
 say ? " asked Florence. " He says ' Tell that fellow 
 to take my clothes off,' " replied Fenno amid a roar 
 of laughter. 
 
 Luckily Florence refused. And with this group of 
 characters, Obenreizer (in " No Thoroughfare ") D'Al- 
 roy, Brierly, and Captain Cuttle, he busied himself 
 mostly during the next few years. 
 
 In 1875, he created a new character, however, and 
 one which the theater-goer of to-day knows better than 
 any other. As Mr. Hutton says : " Bardwell Slote is 
 destined to walk down to posterity arm in arm with 
 Rip Van Winkle, Joe Bunker, Solon Shingle, Davy 
 Crockett and Colonel Sellers, the typical stage Ameri- 
 can of the nineteenth century and Mr. Florence's 
 most enduring character." He was certainly inimi- 
 tably droll and amusing as the M. C. for the Cobosh 
 District, as was Mrs. Florence in the character of Mrs. 
 
4 o J)catricaI Caricature^ 
 
 General Gilflory. "The Mighty Dollar" had no 
 particular merit as a comedy, but it served the Flor- 
 ences as a peg on which to hang two of their most 
 humorous characters. 
 
 It was in 1889 that he joined Jefferson, and in con- 
 junction with Mrs. John Drew gave "The Rivals" 
 and later "The Heir-at-Law." He died in 1891, 
 leaving a host of friends to mourn a genial, honest 
 gentleman, and the stage a loser by the loss of his 
 humorous art. 
 

 JOHN E. OWENS. 
 
JOHN E. OWENS. 
 
 IN that wonderful record of a wonderful life, "The 
 Autobiography of Joseph Jefferson," the author has 
 this to say of a visit to the St. Charles Theater, in 
 New Orleans, during the war, and when he was but a 
 rising young comedian : 
 
 " At last he came, and certainly he conquered. As 
 he entered briskly upon the stage, humming a 
 sprightly song, I thought him the handsomest low 
 comedian I had ever seen. He had a neat dapper 
 little figure and a face full of lively expression. His 
 audience was with him from first to last, his effective 
 style and great flow of animal spirits capturing them 
 and myself too, though I must confess that I had a 
 hard struggle even inwardly to acknowledge it. 
 
 "As I look back and call to mind the slight touch of 
 envy that I felt that night, I am afraid that I had 
 hoped to see something not quite so good, and was 
 a little annoyed to find him such a capital actor ; in 
 short, I experienced those unpleasant twinges of jeal- 
 ousy that will creep over us during the moments when 
 we are not at our best though these feelings may 
 occasionally produce a good result. In me, I know, 
 43 
 
44 Cfjeatrical Caricature^ 
 
 it stirred up the first great ambition that I remember 
 ever to have felt, and from that night of pleasure and 
 excitement I resolved to equal Owens some day, if I 
 could." Flattering testimony, indeed, from one great 
 comedian to the abilities of another. 
 
 John Edward Owens was born in Liverpool in 
 1824, and was brought when but a child by his par- 
 ents to this country, where they settled in Philadel- 
 phia ; and it was in Philadelphia that when but a lad 
 he appeared at the National Theater, then under 
 Burton's management, as a super. It was not long, 
 however, before he became a general utility man, and 
 eventually a valuable member of the stock company, 
 playing engagements both in Philadelphia and Balti- 
 more. It was in the season of 1846-47 that Jefferson 
 saw him at the St. Charles in New Orleans as first 
 low comedian with Mr. and Mrs. Charles Keene 
 and Mrs. James Wallack in the company. He was 
 soon back in Baltimore and Philadelphia, and in 
 "A Glance at Philadelphia," one of those plays of 
 purely local interest, he made an enormous hit as 
 Jakey, the fire-laddie (everybody in those days 
 seems to have made hits as fire-laddies) and filled 
 Burton's treasury to such an extent that he was able 
 to come over to New York and lease the Chambers 
 Street Theater, which afterward brought him fame 
 and fortune too. 
 
 The season of 1851 found him making his first bow 
 to a New York audience. He played Uriah Heep in 
 an adaptation of " David Copperfield " at Brougham's 
 Lyceum, a departure from the usual character of his 
 
Cfjeatricai Caricatured 45 
 
 parts, but undertaken with no less success. He fin- 
 ished the season in New York and then took the play 
 about the country. 
 
 It was during a Philadelphia engagement, however, 
 in 1856-57, that the famous " Solon Shingle " first ap- 
 peared before the public. The play was called " The 
 People's Lawyer " in those days, and was originally in 
 two acts. Owens was so pleased with the part that 
 he carefully elaborated it, rearranged it, and put it on 
 shelf for future use. Meanwhile he was to make 
 a tremendous hit in a part that is entirely associated, 
 by us of to-day, with the genius of Jefferson. He 
 played Caleb Plummer in Boucicault's adaptation of 
 " The Cricket on the Hearth " in New Orleans, where 
 he was then managing the Varieties Theater, in 1859. 
 It had the unprecedented run for those days of 
 two months, and was always afterwards one of his 
 most popular characters. Six years later, in August, 
 1865, Owens commenced an engagement at the Broad- 
 way Theater, under the management of George Wood. 
 " Solon Shingle " was the after-piece, and before a week 
 had passed his delineation of the old farmer became the 
 sensation of the town. The house was packed nightly, 
 and the catch phrases of the piece became current in 
 the town, and the mere mention of the "bar'l of apple 
 sass " brought a twinkle to every eye. On its hun- 
 dredth performance, one of the leading papers drew 
 attention to its remarkable run, as follows : " In one 
 hundred days France passed through the throes of two 
 revolutions lost a king, gained an emperor, and again 
 bowed to a king. In one hundred days Napoleon 
 
46 i)catriral Caricatures. 
 
 left Elba, marched to the throne of France, fought 
 Waterloo, and was conquered. In one hundred nights 
 John Owens fought a fight for popularity single-handed 
 against the hordes of New York theater-goers and 
 conquered them. In one hundred nights the Broad- 
 way Theater passed from the position of a concert hall 
 to the height of fashion. We take pleasure in chron- 
 icling such victories. ' Solon Shingle ' will run addi- 
 tional hundreds of nights, if this great artist chooses." 
 Which shows that the advertising agent of those days 
 was a much milder creature than his modern prototype. 
 At the end of six months although its popularity had 
 in no way abated Owens got tired of playing the 
 part and substituted in its stead Caleb Plummer, who 
 met with just as cordial a welcome. After the end 
 of the New York season Owens accepted an offer 
 from Benjamin Webster, then managing the Adelphi 
 in London, for an engagement of six weeks, which 
 was afterward extended, and " Solon Shingle " pro- 
 ceeded to amuse the sophisticated society of the 
 English metropolis. 
 
 To further chronicle Owens's career would be but 
 to repeat. His position as one of our greatest come- 
 dians was assured, and the next twenty years of his 
 life were given up to an appreciative public. In 1882 
 he played the part of Elbert Rogers in " Esmeralda " 
 during its lengthy run at the Madison Square Theater, 
 and afterward on tour. His last appearance in New 
 York was at the Harlem Theater in " Solon Shingle." 
 He was taken ill during that engagement, and practi- 
 cally retired from the stage. He died in 1886. 
 
F. S. CHANFRAU. 
 
FRANCIS S. CHANFRAU. 
 
 IT was at Mitchell's Olympic, Number 444 Broad- 
 way, that F. S. Chanfrau, then a youngster of 
 twenty-four, first forced himself prominently before 
 the New York theater-goer, and he held his position 
 for over thirty years. He was a New York boy to 
 begin with, born here in 1824, and raised. He re- 
 ceived an ordinary common-school education, and 
 learned the ship-carpenter's trade. " Becoming ad- 
 dicted," as Mr. Ireland quaintly puts it, " to private 
 theatricals," he eventually found his way as a super- 
 numerary to the Bowery Theater, and afterward 
 made quite a little reputation for himself as a mimic. 
 His imitations of Forrest, Booth, and others were ex- 
 cellent, and led on to more important things. He 
 went the round of the New York theaters, gaining 
 a valuable and diversified experience, which enabled 
 him when his opportunity came to seize it. It came 
 on the night of February 15, 1848. Baker, the 
 prompter of the theater, had hurriedly thrown to- 
 gether for his benefit night a piece which he called 
 " New York in 1848," afterward called "A Glance at 
 New York." It was practically the same thing that 
 7 49 
 
50 Ctjeatrical Caricatuteg* 
 
 Owens did in Philadelphia, the same year, both pieces 
 being localized to suit their native towns. Owens's 
 Jakey was a counterpart of Chanfrau's M0se, both tough 
 fire b'hoys. Mr. Lawrence Hutton in his " Curiosities 
 of the American Stage " says : " It [the play] had no 
 literary merit and no pretensions thereto ; and it would 
 never have attracted public attention but for the won- 
 derful ' b'hoy ' of the period played by F. S. Chan- 
 frau one of those accidental but complete successes 
 upon the stage which are never anticipated, and which 
 cannot always be explained. He wore the 'soap 
 locks ' of the period, the plug hat with a narrow black 
 band, the red shirt, the trousers turned up without 
 which the genus was never seen ; and he had a pecu- 
 liarly sardonic curve of the lip, expressive of more im- 
 pudence, self-satisfaction, suppressed profanity, and 
 ' general cussedness ' than Delsarte ever dared to put 
 in any single facial gesture." A vivid picture, indeed, 
 and one which the reader will recognize in the minia- 
 ture figure in the left-hand corner of the plate. Mose 
 took New York by storm, and the country, too, for 
 that matter, and assured Chanfrau's future. To show 
 the wonderful vitality of the piece, and incidentally of 
 Chanfrau himself, I quote from a letter which he wrote 
 in 1874 to Mr. Joseph N. Ireland. " The original run 
 of ' Mose ' in all its modifications (' A Glance at New 
 York ' was followed by Mose all over the world : 
 ' Mose in California,' ' Mose in a Muss,' ' Mose in 
 China,' and so on) covered three years and six months, 
 a portion of which time the first version was performed 
 for several weeks at two theaters, the Olympic and 
 

 ljcatricai Caricature^ s 1 
 
 the National, in New York on the same night, and 
 for one week within that period at three theaters on 
 the same evening the two above mentioned, and at 
 the Newark (N. J.) Theater. Altogether, I have 
 given in the twenty-six years which have elapsed since 
 the first presentation of Mose something in excess of 
 twenty-two hundred representations of the character. 
 " Respecting ' Sam' I can speak with great confidence. 
 Of that play I have thus far given seven hundred and 
 eighty-three performances. ' Kit,' a more recent but 
 equally prosperous specialty, I have already performed 
 five hundred and sixty times." 
 
 Of Chanfrau's Mose Mr. Ireland says : " His por- 
 traiture was perfect in every particular dress, manner, 
 gait, tone, action and the character is as inseparably 
 identified with him as Paul Pry with Hilson. Delph 
 with Burns, Jemmy Twitcher with John Sexton; 
 Crummies with Mitchell ; Captain Cuttle with Burton, or 
 Our American Cousin with young Jefferson (young Jef- 
 ferson !). Mr. Chanfrau's immense success in this char- 
 acter has been somewhat detrimental to his standing 
 in his native city in a more elevated range of the 
 drama; some squeamish connoisseurs insisting that an 
 artist cannot excel in parts dissimilar. The conclu- 
 sion, however, is unwarrantable and unjust, for his 
 versatility, although unbounded in aim, is almost un- 
 equaled in merit, and his name is ever a reliable source 
 of attraction and profit in almost every other city of 
 the Union in a much higher grade of character. Mr. 
 Chanfrau is decidedly handsome, and, divested of the 
 dress and attributes of Mose, his appearance and man- 
 
$2 J)catrical Caricature^ 
 
 ners are those of a well-bred gentleman, and we are 
 assured that his private life and character are such as 
 to entitle him to the highest respect." 
 
 A naive tribute to the character and ability of 
 the man, " squeamish connoisseurs " notwithstanding. 
 Jefferson was not one of these, for he writes of him : 
 
 " When I first saw him he was extremely handsome. 
 He was modest, too, and manly. These qualities are 
 so rarely allied to beauty, that Chanfrau comes back 
 to my remembrance as quite a novelty. He had suc- 
 cess enough to have turned his head, but he bore it 
 bravely, so that he must have been as well poised in 
 his mind as he was in his person." 
 
 Chanfrau married in 1858 Miss Henrietta Baker of 
 Cincinnati, who as Henrietta Chanfrau, holds an im- 
 portant place in the annals of the New York stage. 
 
 De Walden's comedy of " Sam," in which he played 
 the title-rdle, was Chanfrau's next important eccen- 
 tric essay, and its success was enormous. In the plate 
 Sam is the little gentleman on the right and he is no 
 other than Lord Dundreary's idiot brother. Both 
 Mose and Sam were long before my theatrical or any 
 other days, but I have thrilling recollections of his 
 " Kit, the Arkansas Traveller," and a wonderful Kit 
 he was, full of dash, fire, and intrepidity ; as ready with 
 his " gun " as with his bowie knife, and wreaking a 
 terrible vengeance on the villain. It was the last part 
 he ever played, and he was in the harness till the very 
 last. He died suddenly in Jersey City, leaving his 
 wife and a son, Frank, who is playing Kit to this day, 
 I believe, about the country. 
 

 Cftartca . W^ttc anti SDnn 
 
CHARLES WHITE. 
 
CHARLES T. WHITE AND 
 DAN BRYANT. 
 
 THE story of Charley White and Dan Bryant is 
 practically the story of negro minstrelsy in New 
 York. White was born in 1821, and from the time 
 he was a mere lad took part in public performances. 
 The first minstrel company in New York was organ- 
 ized in 1843, and the next year White started a com- 
 pany of his own which he called " The Kitchen Min- 
 strels." They opened on the second floor of the 
 building at Broadway and Chambers Street. A bio- 
 graphical scrap of White says : " The first floor was 
 occupied by Tiffany and Ellis, jewellers; the third by 
 the renowned Ottignon as a gymnasium. Here, where 
 the venerable Palmo had introduced to delighted 
 audiences the Italian opera, and regaled them with 
 fragrant Mocha coffee handed around by obsequious 
 waiters, he first came prominently before the public." 
 He afterward, in 1846, opened The Melodeon, at 53 
 Bowery, and later, White's Athenaeum, at 585 Broad- 
 way. For many years he was associated as manager 
 or performer with almost every minstrel entertainment 
 in New York : with the " Virginia Serenaders," " The 
 61 
 
62 i)eattital Caricatures* 
 
 Ethiopian Operatic Brotherhood," "The Sable Sisters 
 of Ethiopian Minstrels," " The New York Minstrels," 
 and so on. He was instrumental in introducing to 
 the stage Daniel Webster O'Brien, better known as 
 Dan Bryant, probably the most famous minstrel of 
 them all. He was born in Troy in 1833, and when 
 twelve years old made his first appearance in New 
 York at the Vauxhall Garden, as a dancer. From then 
 on he followed the profession of minstrel and come- 
 dian, with increasing success and popularity. In 1857, 
 in partnership with his brothers Neil and Jerry, he 
 organized a minstrel company called the " Cork- 
 onians," and opened at Mechanic's Hall, 472 Broad- 
 way. In July, 1863, he essayed the Irish character 
 of Handy Andy at the Wintergarden Theater, and so 
 successfully that he gave up burnt cork for a while, 
 and traveled as a " white " star about this country 
 and England. He returned to minstrelsy, though, in 
 1868, and played the darky till his death in 1875. 
 
 Mr. William Winter, in his " Brief Chronicles," says 
 of him that he " was one of the gentlest and merriest 
 of men, and he passed his life making innocent laugh- 
 ter for everybody and in doing good. Privately and 
 publicly he was a generous, unselfish, genial per- 
 son. . . . 
 
 " He had a droll humour and fine animal spirits, 
 and his Irishmen were natural and interesting. " 
 

 
 
 DAN BRYANT. 
 
WILLIAM WHEATLEY. 
 
WILLIAM WHEATLEY. 
 
 ON March 9, 1804, a small building in Bedlow 
 Street, New York, was opened as the Grove 
 Theater, with a company of what the chronicler calls 
 "inferior performers." "Of these," he adds, "-Mr. 
 Frederick Wheatley must be noticed as the husband 
 and father of a most talented wife and children. He 
 was afterward attached for many years to the Park 
 Theater." This Frederick Wheatley was an Irish- 
 man a Trinity College Irishman as I have heard 
 him described, who strayed to this country as a player 
 and singer. In 1805 he married a Miss Ross, the 
 daughter of an officer in the British army, who had 
 joined the Park Theater company, and who retired 
 after her marriage to private life, only to enter the 
 lists again later. The chronicler says of her that 
 " severe study, long practice, and the strictest adher- 
 ence to nature, finally gave her the position she aimed 
 at, and for more than twenty years, in the line of 
 comic, middle-aged old women, rich or poor, refined 
 or vulgar indeed, of every grade, she was entirely 
 unrivaled on the American stage. Her reputation re- 
 sulted from the combination of perfect good sense 
 9 65 
 
66 l)eatrical Caricature^ 
 
 with accurate discrimination of character, fine artistic 
 taste, an agreeable face and person, and the most 
 thorough executive ability. Becoming independent 
 in her resources, with her daughters handsomely 
 settled in marriage, and her son William enjoying a 
 high professional reputation, Mrs. Wheatley in 1843 
 finally bade farewell to the stage, and had the nerve to 
 resist the tempting offer of $1000 for reappearance, for 
 a single night, in the character of Mrs. Malaprop. She 
 had passed her eighty-fourth birthday when she died." 
 
 This artistic and exemplary lady was the mother, 
 and Mr. Frederick Wheatley was the father, of the 
 subject of this sketch, who, though entirely forgotten 
 to-day, save by the very old playgoer or actor, was in 
 his time a young actor of decided ability, and later a 
 metropolitan manager of note and success. 
 
 Mr. Joseph N. Ireland, whose invaluable services 
 to the history of our local stage I can only too poorly 
 acknowledge, gives the record of his stage career as 
 follows : " Mr. Macready appeared as William Tell 
 (October 12, 1826), with Master William Wheatley as 
 Albert, who attracted much notice by the good judg- 
 ment he evinced in its performance. He soon after- 
 ward appeared as Tom Thumb, and for two or three 
 years was the principal representative of the Park 
 juveniles. In 1833 he was at the Bowery in the low- 
 est part of a walking gentleman. In the summer of 
 1834 he reappeared at the Park in a more elevated 
 range of the same line, and gradually worked his way 
 into public favor by his sensible personations of 
 whatever was intrusted to his care. 
 
{)catrical Caricature^ 6 7 
 
 " In the long catalogue of characters then assigned to 
 him such as Laertes ; Henry in * Speed the Plough ' ; 
 Michael in ' Victorine ' ; Nicholas Nickleby, Charles 
 Courtly, and Henry Moreland in * The Heir-at-Law " 
 (which Charles Kemble did not disdain to play in 
 London), we do not remember to have seen his equal ; 
 while as Sir Thomas Clifford, Alfred Evelyn and 
 Claude Melnotte, he played with a truthful earnest- 
 ness that quite eclipsed the efforts of more pretending 
 performers. His temperament was scarcely mercurial 
 enough to give due effect to the Vapids, the Gossamers, 
 and Dazzles of light comedy, nor, although he per- 
 fectly satisfied the eye as Hamlet and Romeo, would 
 his rendition of them rank with their first representa- 
 tives. Mr. Wheatley left the Park Theater in 1843, 
 but fulfilled a star engagement there in 1847, m con ~ 
 junction with his sister, Mrs. James Mason. He was 
 for several years a resident of Philadelphia, where he 
 played exclusively the highest grades of character, and 
 as actor and manager enjoyed great popularity. (Dur- 
 ing his sojourn in Philadelphia, he managed the Arch 
 Street Theater in partnership with the elder John 
 Drew.) 
 
 " In January, 1862, he reappeared at Niblo's Garden 
 in conjunction with Mr. and Mrs. J. Wallack, Jr., Mrs. 
 Barrow, and Mr. E. L. Davenport, and soon rein- 
 stated himself in the good opinion of his audience, by 
 many of whom he was almost forgotten. In the sum- 
 mer of that year he became sole lessee and manager 
 of that establishment, and still remains there, popular 
 and prosperous, having given it a character for the 
 
68 f)eatrical Caricature^ 
 
 production of romantic and spectacular dramas not 
 previously enjoyed by any theater in the city. 
 
 " The splendid l getting up ' and success of the 
 ' Duke's Motto/ in which his performance of Henri de 
 Lagardere received the most rapturous applause ; of 
 the l Corsican Brothers,' wherein he was equally happy 
 as Louis and Fabien ; of ' Satanella ' and the ' En- 
 chantress ' with Mr. Richings and daughter ; l Bel 
 Demonio' with Mademoiselle Vestvali; the ' Connie 
 Soogah ' with Mr. and Mrs. Williams, and ' Arra na 
 Pogue,' are the best proofs of his judgment, taste, and 
 liberality." 
 
 It was during this period of management that the 
 famous " Black Crook " was produced, and it is at this 
 period that the caricaturist has depicted him, sur- 
 rounded by the goblins, fairies, and supernatural crea- 
 tures of that supernatural production. He was one 
 of several who made their " everlasting fortunes " out 
 of that successful play, and he was lost to public view 
 in a mist of profits. 
 
3Untonio 
 
TONY PASTOR. 
 
ANTONIO PASTOR. 
 
 AT last a contemporary stares us in the face, and 
 .XjL may he continue to do so for years to come! 
 Tony Pastor was born in Greenwich Street, New 
 York, in 1840, and fortunately, is able to tell his own 
 story. 
 
 That there is undoubtedly " a divinity that shapes our ends " 
 my life story demonstrates. From my earliest childhood I was 
 possessed with a desire to " strut upon the mimic stage," a de- 
 sire that at the age of eight found me at the head of a dozen 
 boys managing a penny circus in the back yard of my parents' 
 residence, and before my tenth year appearing upon a real stage 
 and singing as an infant prodigy before a real audience of adults ; 
 at fifteen, a full-fledged performer in a circus, and before I at- 
 tained my majority, a manager and proprietor of amusement 
 ventures. 
 
 My father, who was a very skilful musician, was a prominent 
 soloist in a grand orchestra that gave promenade concerts in the 
 Old Castle Garden on the style of the Julien concerts, afterward 
 so famous in Europe and America. He also was for a long time 
 one of the orchestra of the Park Theater in its earliest days, 
 when the life of New York city was all below Canal Street, and 
 Bleecker Street was to the city what upper Fifth Avenue is to- 
 day, and often have I listened with wonder to his narration of 
 events that had come to his notice when he would relate to my 
 mother the scenes at the theater, with bits of chat and gossip of 
 
 71 
 
72 Cljeatrita! Caricature^ 
 
 t he society folk who attended, the popular actors, and the excit- 
 ing plays. All these little bits were working toward my destiny, 
 "this life upon the stage," where I have wrought with more or less 
 success from childhood to manhood, surrounded often by diffi- 
 culty, rewarded with some triumphs attended with many happy 
 incidents, some sorrows, much that has been of delight, and at 
 length into the pleasanter waters of established favor, where I 
 now glide along thankful to friends, and with a happy, kindly 
 affection for fellows. 
 
 My first managerial difficulty came with my first managerial 
 effort. I was then about eight years of age, and was the leader 
 of a dozen boys who organized a theatrical performance to be 
 presented in the cellar of my father's house. Our first proceed- 
 ing was to pack to one side the winter's fuel, which in those 
 days was principally of wood, coal being as yet a luxury. Then 
 from our mothers' household stores we abstracted sundry quilts, 
 curtains, bits of furniture, and other properties, all of which 
 were quietly conveyed to our theater (the cellar) with great cau- 
 tion, because my father was much at home in the daytime, and 
 would not countenance our transactions. In fact, to him was 
 due the ultimate failure of the project, and the abandonment of 
 our grand company, as will appear later on. Well, having got- 
 ten together the needed articles, we constructed a proscenium of 
 clothes-horses and bed-quilts, a drop-curtain purloined from 
 some mother's camphor-chest, a stage built upon upright barrels, 
 and seats of neatly piled cordwood. Then came the great diffi- 
 culty the scenery. We could never get along without that, so 
 I decided to sacrifice one of my mother's best linen sheets, and 
 with burnt cork for crayon, I depicted the battlements of an 
 English castle, with a background sadly lacking in perspective. 
 
 Our preparations being all complete, we eagerly awaited the 
 coming of Saturday's holiday from school, when we should be 
 able to give our first performance. In due course the time 
 came around, and our audience assembled, paying their admission 
 fee in pins, marbles, and other bric-a-brac usual in boys' barter. 
 Our play was extempore and Richard III bore strange resem- 
 blance to Hamlet, Nick of the Woods, and Schnapps in the 
 
CJjcatrical Caricatured 73 
 
 " Naiad Queen," while Ophelia danced a hornpipe with Macbeth 
 or Falstafft I don't remember exactly which at this time. I sang 
 coinic songs, but was compelled to stop in the midst of the strain 
 to caution the boys to suppress their enthusiasm and its atten- 
 dant noise, for I knew my respected papa would not relish the 
 proceedings should they come to his notice. However, we es- 
 caped any trouble from that source, and the following Saturday, 
 emboldened by success, we were less cautious. One of the boys, 
 afterward a well-known actor, was shouting for a horse, the 
 audience were shouting themselves hoarse, when with utter ter- 
 ror I recognized the familiar creak of my father's boots coming 
 down the stairs. I gave the cue to run, and without disrobing 
 our mimic kings and queens tumbled over the audience in a mad 
 race for the street. The wild scramble so amused my parent 
 that he forgot to be angry, and so I escaped punishment. 
 
 At the time of this escapade I was a pupil at the Thames Street 
 school, and at one of our exhibitions received a prize for elocu- 
 tion. My recitation was entitled " You 'd Scarce Expect One of 
 My Age " ; and having at that time attracted the attention of 
 some visitors, I was selected to aid in a temperance revival, then 
 in progress at Dey Street Hall, by the Hand in Hand Society, 
 where I made my de"but as a public entertainer, and was launched 
 upon the career that destiny had carved for me. 
 
 At the time of which I am writing negro minstrelsy was in 
 its earliest days and a mere skeleton of what it has since be- 
 come. Minstrel bands then consisted of five or six performers, 
 without orchestra other than the banjo, bones, tambourine, tri- 
 angle, or jawbone. I had seen the original Virginia Serenaders 
 at the Park Theater, and was ambitious to be an end man, or, as 
 our English cousins term them, "a corner man." One day I 
 had the good fortune to find on the street a two-dollar bill, 
 which I invested forthwith in a tambourine and a negro wig, 
 made in those days of cloth listing. I soon joined with a party 
 who were giving concerts on the steamboat Raritan, Captain 
 Fisher, which then plied between New York city and Staten 
 Island, my object being to gain experience and practice until a 
 better opportunity should offer for presenting my genius to an 
 
 10 
 
74 l)catrical Caricature^ 
 
 admiring public. My next move was to attach myself to a min- 
 strel band then showing at Croton Hall, at Division and Chatham 
 streets. I was not employed, but was rather a volunteer, and 
 used to carry water for the comedian. 
 
 At Croton Hall I got an occasional opportunity to display my 
 ability ; but my father now interfered and sent me off to the 
 country to " cure me of the nonsense," but my dear parent could 
 not hew out my career in the rough. I was no sooner in the 
 country than I was in full blast as an amateur entertainer, and 
 the whole country grew to know Tony Pastor " the clever boy 
 from New York." My services were in demand for parties and 
 church affairs. On one occasion, while traveling a country road, 
 a young farmer stopped me and caused me to mount a hay 
 wagon and do a song and dance for the amusement of his hay- 
 makers, put a dollar in my hand, and sent me on my way. I 
 soon tired of country life and returned to New York, and my 
 parents, seeing that my inclination could not be diverted, gave 
 up their opposition, and I entered the service of P. T. Barnum 
 at the famous Barnum's Museum, corner of Broadway and Ann 
 streets, where I was regarded as a sort of infant prodigy, and 
 where I attracted the attention of Colonel Alvan Mann, one of 
 the proprietors of Raymond & Waring's Menagerie, who en- 
 gaged me as an end man, or rather end boy, as I was not yet 
 fourteen years old, and I went out into the world at last as a 
 performer ; and my dream was at length realized. 
 
 Having become a professional performer I soon felt the mana- 
 gerial bee buzzing in my bonnet ; and it was not long before I 
 started my first venture in this wise. At that time the menagerie 
 and circus did not perform at night, day performances only being 
 deemed profitable in the country towns. I organized a concert 
 troupe and minstrel show, and would hire a school or court- 
 house, or the dining-room of the hotel, as the case might be, and 
 announcing the same from the ring in the afternoon, would gen- 
 erally have a good audience to reward us. As the expense gen- 
 erally was at zero the profits were considerable ; but the mana- 
 gers of the menagerie did not relish the idea of my making too 
 much money, and they put a stop to my concerts. 
 
l)eatrical Caricature^ 75 
 
 Defeated, but not conquered, I purchased a number of illus- 
 trated periodicals, and cutting out the pictures, mounted them 
 on muslin strips in panorama style. I started a peep show. 
 This consisted of a box-wagon with small peep-holes in sides 
 and rear, with a tin reflector at the top to throw the light upon 
 the muslin, which gave the pictures a transparent appearance, 
 yet sharply defined. A team of horses, a bass drum, and plenty 
 of red, white, and blue calico completed the outfit ; and with this 
 I would take my stand in the market-place, or alongside the 
 menagerie entrance, and with the beating of drum and clanging 
 of cymbals announce " a grand panorama of the world, all to 
 be seen for a sixpence," a piece of money now obsolete, but at 
 that time our principal small coin, its value six and one quarter 
 cents, and in the different sections of our country variously 
 termed " sixpence," " ftp," and " picayune." Again the current 
 of currency flowed toward my pockets. I became a walking de- 
 pository of small coin dimes, half dimes, sixpences, and shil- 
 lings weighed me down, and I became the Crcesus of our com- 
 pany. But, alas ! again the demon of jealousy and avarice was 
 on my track this time the village constable. I was proclaim- 
 ing the wonders of my panorama when he came along, and 
 without paying the fee, proceeded to enjoy my show. I de- 
 manded payment, which he refused. I protested in vigorous 
 style, when, displaying his shield, he yanked me before the 
 Town Council for doing business without a license. They fined 
 me $10 for the offense, $10 for obstructing the roadway, and if 
 I had not kept quiet, would have fined me $10 more for con- 
 tempt of court. T pleaded inability to pay, and they confiscated 
 my wagon. I disclaimed ownership of the horses, or they would 
 have kept them also. And thus ended speculation number two. 
 
 Defeated in my concerts and my peep show, I cast about for a 
 new effort, and at length induced Mr. George Bunnell, who 
 with his brother was owner of a small snake exhibit with the 
 menagerie, to join me in organizing an annex show given in an 
 extra tent under license from our proprietors, with the snakes 
 and the assistance of Mr. Joseph Hazlett, a violinist, and the 
 two children of Mr. Charles Sherwood, a rider in the big show. 
 
76 |>eatrical Caricature^ 
 
 We gave quite a concert, dividing the profits one half to Bunnell, 
 and one quarter each to Hazlett and myself. This was a great 
 success, and I saved my money. 
 
 I followed circus life for some years, being successively ring- 
 master, clown, and actor, creating a Yankee part with Levi P. 
 North's circus at Chicago in a horse drama "The Days of 
 '76." After this I made my appearance in New York at the 
 Old Bowery as a stage clown, in a play called " The Monster of 
 St. Michel's." This was before the advent of George L. Fox, 
 who afterward achieved fame and fortune as a stage clown in the 
 same house. I also appeared at the Bowery in comedy rdles, 
 playing principal comedy in " Tippoo Sahib," a burlesque founded 
 on the Anglo-Indian mutiny. At that time there flourished in 
 the Bowery a social coterie called " The Side-pocket Club " a 
 number of young men who, being always ready for fun, pre- 
 vailed upon the stage manager to let them go on as supers for 
 one night only. In the action of the play was a battle between 
 the Sepoys and the British troops, with cannon fired from the 
 back of elephants and other East Indian realism. The British, 
 of course, were the victors ; but the Side-pocket boys, led on by 
 Dan Kerrigan, turned the tables, and, as Indians, beat the Brit- 
 ish army of paid supers, putting them to rout, and driving Jo- 
 seph Foster, the stage manager, distracted. The battle raged 
 until the curtain was rung down. 
 
 In 1861, the mutterings of the trouble that was soon to burst 
 on us with all its awful carnage and woe appalled the proprietors 
 of circuses and menageries, and I sought in the variety theaters 
 the employment that the tented arena gave but little promise of. 
 I sang at Rivers' Melodeon in Philadelphia and later at Butler's 
 American Theater, more popularly known as ^44 Broadway, 
 where I remained four years. One afternoon my attention was 
 attracted by the crowds wending their way toward Union 
 Square. I inquired the cause ; the dreaded answer came : " The 
 war has begun! Fort Sumter has been fired upon!" Here 
 was the culmination of all the past year's anxiety and apprehen- 
 sion. I mused on the situation, and somehow I did not feel like 
 singing comic songs that night. I went to a music-store and 
 
CJjcatrical Caricature^ 77 
 
 bought "The Star Spangled Banner." I committed the words 
 to memory, and that night asked the audience to join me in its 
 chorus. Such a chorus and such a cheer as went up at that 
 theater ! I never heard its like before ; I never shall again. It 
 was enthusiasm. But it was dreadful enthusiasm. It meant 
 war; it meant that which is now history that struggle for the 
 grand old Union ! It meant that those young men would give 
 their blood to wipe out the stain ! That the Star- Spangled 
 Banner should not be trailed in the dust ! 
 
 My experience at No. 444 opened up the idea that in the va- 
 riety show there was an opportunity waiting for the man the 
 man who would disentangle it from cigar-smoking and beer- 
 drinking accompaniment, and I determined to make the effort. I 
 laid my plans before my friends. Some shook their heads ; others 
 said the idea was good and buttoned their pockets; others en- 
 thused only to grow cold soon after, until at length Sam Sharpley, 
 the minstrel manager, joined hands with me, and we made our 
 first bid for lady patronage at Paterson, N. J., on March 21, 
 1865. Our success was good, but it took a long while to induce 
 the ladies to attend in any considerable number. From Pater- 
 son we journeyed to other towns, advertising freely and pledg- 
 ing our reputation that the show should in no sense offend. 
 That has ever been my trademark, and our moderate success 
 became positive, until to-day the variety show no longer is re- 
 garded as an outcast, but takes its turn in the best houses of 
 America and enjoys an equal share of the best patronage. 
 
 On the night of July 31, 1865, Mr. Sharpley and myself opened 
 at No. 201 Bowery, New York city, "Tony Pastor's Opera 
 House," on the site of the present People's Theater. Mr. 
 Sharpley remained my partner for one season and retired, leav- 
 ing me with the battle scarcely half won leaving me sole 
 owner of an idea an idea I have worked upon, until to-day I 
 am proud to say that I have demonstrated into a fact that the 
 specialty stage is a valuable school to the actor; that its possi- 
 bilities were greater than even its votaries then believed, and to- 
 day it enjoys not only public favor, but popular distinction, while 
 its foster child, farce comedy, is now the public furore. 
 
f>eatrical Caricature^ 
 
 I remained in the Bowery ten years, going thence to Nos. 585 
 and 587 Broadway, where I remained six years, and finally to 
 my present location in Fourteenth Street, where I have been 
 for nine years. 
 
 In my career I have always endeavored to extend encourage- 
 ment to the young artist. On my stage many estimable actors 
 and actresses who now soar high in the dramatic firmament have 
 first tried their wings. The list is too well known to require men- 
 tion here. Suffice it to say I have always tried to nourish bud- 
 ding talent ; to say, " Well done, my boy ! " or " Bravo, lassie ! " 
 and thus cheer them to braver efforts ; and I have reaped the 
 reward. In the hundreds I could name there is not one who 
 has proved ungrateful a noble record for a noble profession. 
 
XC ! 04622 
 
 M205G35 
 
 
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