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
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