SEASON OF '72-'73.--CONTINUED.
Before this time John Maguire had been heard from; he had found on his
arrival at Pioche that there was some sort of a theatre there. It had
been built for a minstrel company of whom Harry Larraine, formerly of
the Fort Douglas band, was the leader. At the expiration of the
minstrel engagement, Maguire secured the theatre when he immediately
set about to put a dramatic company in there. He telegraphed for Mr.
and Mrs. Bates, offering them a strong inducement to go there. He also
telegraphed for the writer, offering him a salary that was sufficient
inducement for him to go. John W. Dunne, a young Californian, who had
been in the Salt Lake Theatre company, was also engaged. Our fares
were arranged for and about the middle of January this nucleus for a
dramatic company left Salt Lake City for Pioche for a six weeks'
engagement. Our party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Bates, Baby Bates
(Blanche), the now famous actress, who was then about a year and a
half old; Mrs. Bates' sister, Miss Wren, who acted as the chief nurse,
and Mr. John W. Dunne. It is a matter well worthy of record that Mr.
Dunne was married the night before he left for Pioche, to Miss Clara
Decker, a niece of Brigham Young, a very pretty and attractive girl,
who had been assistant costumer in the ladies' department of the
theatre for some time. It was of course, a great trial to the young
couple to have to part so soon, after one brief night of married life,
but the exigencies of the theatrical business are at times merciless.
As they had been engaged for some time, it was decided when Mr. Dunne
accepted the Pioche engagement, that it would be best for them to get
married before he went away lest absence and distance might cause one
or both to change their minds. How wise a precaution this proved the
sequel will show. This proved to be a memorable trip. Every member of
the party will remember that trip to their dying day except Blanche,
and she was too young to remember anything about it. The schedule time
from Salt Lake to Pioche was fifty-five hours. We were five days and
nights, or one hundred and twenty-five hours making that journey. The
Utah Southern was then running only as far as York, about seventy-five
miles south of Salt Lake. This left two hundred and seventy-five miles
to be traveled by stage. Our stage was not a Concord, but a rather
dilapidated specimen of the "jerkie" or "mud wagon." It had seating
accommodations for nine persons, and two could ride on the "boot" with
the driver. There were two male passengers in addition to our party of
six--six counting Baby Bates, who must be figured in as one, for
although quite small, she was very much in evidence throughout that
journey. One of the gentlemen rode most of the time on the "boot" and
occasionally one or another of the men would take a spell on the
driver's seat so that we were never crowded uncomfortably; yet, oh,
how tired we did get and especially the ladies, before that ride was
ended. It was the 18th of January, the weather very pleasant but very
cold nights, and our first night on the stage was decidedly
uncomfortable. We reached the terminus of the railroad, York, about
noon, ate dinner in a shack of a restaurant and started on our stage
ride about two p. m. We were not long in discovering that there was
something the matter with the horses. The driver, in answer to our
queries, informed us that they were all suffering from the epizootic;
it was getting awful bad, he explained, "don't believe we've got a
horse on the line that is free from it." We agreed with him that it
was awful bad. The poor beasts coughed and sneezed continuously,
throwing off effluvium, the odor of which was disagreeable in the
extreme. On our second day out a regular January thaw set in and the
snow melted so rapidly that the roads got very bad; a number of times
the men had to get out and walk, and on several occasions the well
named "mud wagon" got mired so deeply and the horses were so weak, we
had to get a fence pole from the neighboring fence and lift the wheels
out of the holes, the horses being unable to budge the old coach. The
further south we got the worse the roads got. We had to change the
horses about every twenty miles, but they were all alike, weak and
dispirited, and the stench about the stables at the different stations
was nauseating. On the fifth day out we arrived at the last station.
Between it and the mining camp there was a hard mountain to climb and
the snow was falling thick and fast. It was then well on to sunset and
to our keen disappointment the station man and driver decided it would
be folly to try to get over the "divide" in that storm, and that we
would have to remain at the station until morning. Here was an
unlooked for and unpleasant predicament, but there was no help for it,
and it was better than getting stuck on the "divide" in a heavy
snowstorm. The hostler was a good natured fellow and tried in his
homely way to reconcile us to our fate. "I ain't got so very much grub
here and what there is ain't very dainty, I 'low, especially for the
ladies, but such as it is you're welcome to, and you can have a good
fire, and if youse want to stretch yourselves out after supper, I can
rake up quite a few blankets and laprobes, and ye can lie down when
youse tired of settin' 'round the fire." The odor of the stable from
the epizootic was almost sickening and the thoughts of eating there
was anything but cheering, but we were all hungry, almost famished,
having had nothing since breakfast. So we made the best of it. The
hostler hustled in great shape, the presence of the ladies and the
baby inspiring him to extra exertions in our behalf. He soon had a big
pot of coffee and a pan full of bacon cooking, and he had to make some
bread too, in which Mrs. Bates and her sister lent him their
assistance. The quickest thing he suggested was slapjacks, and we all
agreed to the quickest thing, and so before long we were all partaking
with what relish we could of the hostler's coffee, slapjacks and
bacon, and, notwithstanding the disagreeable odor of the stable, we
all contrived to satisfy our hunger. After the hostler cook had
cleaned away the few tin plates and cups, he proceeded to strew the
end of the little "hostler's room" farthest from the stove with a
diversity of blankets and laprobes, all of which were permeated with
the odor of the stable, and suggested in his rough but kindly way
"that we had better stretch ourselves on the floor as it was a long
time till morning" and he knew "we must be pooty darn tired a ridin'
so long in the coach." Mrs. Bates and her sister would have preferred
sitting up if they only had comfortable chairs, but there was nothing
but a rough bench and a couple of rough stools in the place and the
majority of the men had been standing about or sitting on the floor
all through the supper function and sleep gradually overpowered the
party, and one by one they "knit up the raveled sleeve of care" and
were glad to bunk down on the uninviting bed the kindly hostler had
improvised for the occasion. In less than an hour after our sumptuous
repast, the entire party were in the arms of Morpheus. The women and
the baby Blanche were in the most secluded corner, then Frank Bates,
John Dunne and myself stretched out on the hospitable blankets. These
took all the space and the two strangers and the driver wrapped up in
their overcoats and betook themselves to the portion of the floor
unoccupied; this was close around the stove. The floor of that
hostler's room was literally covered with the sleepy travelers. It was
a change of position and measurably restful, but our sleep was broken
and anything but sweet, even though it was the "innocent sleep." The
constant coughing of the poor, afflicted horses and the peculiar and
disagreeable odor of the epizootic, rendered sleep anything but
delightful, but "necessity knows no law," and in spite of all the
disadvantages we managed to snatch some repose from the "chief
nourisher in life's feast." Unenviable as was our position in the
hostler's room on this memorable night, it would have been much worse
had we undertaken to cross the mountain. Snow was falling thick and
fast, and the wind blowing hard enough to be very disagreeable. After
we were all asleep, or apparently so, the hostler shoved a stick of
wood in the stove which was getting cold, and then turned into the
hayloft to get a little sleep himself, for he had to be astir before
daylight. Before daybreak the storm had spent itself and the sun rose
bright and cheerful, mountain and vale deeply covered with snow. Our
breakfast, which the hostler prepared while the driver was feeding and
watering the horses, was exactly the same as we had for supper:
coffee, slapjacks and bacon, with the addition of some tea which one
of our fellow passengers prepared for himself and the ladies. It was a
sample package he had and cost him, he solemnly declared, $5.00 a
pound. This gave an extra flavor to it no doubt, at all events the
ladies declared it was fine and we did not doubt its being more to
their taste than the coffee the good hostler provided. Breakfast over,
we once more clambered into the shaky old jerkie with the admonition
from the driver that we men would have to walk when we came to the
steep places. We thanked the kindly hostler and invited him to come to
the show when we got to playing in Pioche. The snow was six or eight
inches deep and even on the gradual ascent, as we started up the
grade, it was all the horses could do to pull us, and the snow soon
began to melt and the road to get steeper. It was evident we men would
have to foot it, and most of the way to the top, and so we got out one
or two at a time till we were all walking and occasionally we had to
give a shove on the coach to help the willing but weakly horses get to
the top. Once there we were all very glad to get in; we were not long
in rattling along the down grade into Pioche, all very glad to get
there. Maguire, who had been impatiently expecting us for two days,
was overjoyed to see us, for he was full of expectations as to the
business we were going to do. He had secured us the best hotel
accommodations the camp afforded, and they were duly appreciated after
our recent experience at the station.
After dinner we all took a walk with Maguire at his invitation, to see
the theatre where we were to play our six weeks engagement. The
building stood back from the principal street which was built right in
the ravine, the stage entrance facing the street, and the entrance for
the audience facing the street above. We had ventured various
conjectures in reference to this theatre that the always over sanguine
Maguire had secured a lease of. We had not expected very much and yet
we were disappointed. We all entered at the stage door which opened
directly from a flight of steps onto the back of the stage, and as we
beheld the wonderful temple of Thespus, where we were to do honor to
his art, the exclamations that escaped us were not well calculated to
enthuse John Maguire, but rather to make him feel a little shaky about
the venture he was making. Ye gods! What a transition from the Salt
Lake Theatre to this shack! The theatre was about 35x75 feet, the
stage occupying twenty-five feet. The orchestra floor for reserved
seats ran from the stage towards the front about 15 feet. The rest of
the space was fitted with rough board seats a la circus, the natural
declivity of the ground giving the seats the necessary pitch for the
audience to see the stage. The walls of the building were of rough
pine boards about ten feet in height and the entire auditorium was
roofed in with ducking or light canvas. The stage part was roofed with
shingles so as to preserve the scenery from the rain. Of scenery there
was a very limited supply and that not very artistic, being painted by
an amateur. The stage projected beyond the curtain some six feet and
on each side of this apron or projecting stage was a private box,
finished off with cheap wall paper similar to the interior scenes on
the stage. These boxes were well patronized. Every night they were
filled with the fair, frail denizens of the camp at the rate of $10 a
box. The opening play had already been announced, but owing to the
lateness of our arrival, was necessarily postponed for a few nights.
Maguire had gotten together some people of more or less experience
(mostly less) to fill up the minor parts in the cast. He also took a
hand himself and rehearsals were started the same night we arrived.
The opening night came around and the Opera House (that's what John
called it) was packed to suffocation. The boxes were filled to
overflowing with the swellest looking women in the town. The play was
"Camille" and Mrs. Bates had them all shedding tears. The girls in the
boxes were deeply affected. Most of them were "like Niobe, all tears,"
but we received no intimation that this powerful sermon of Dumas was
instrumental in turning them from their life of shame.
Pioche was a camp of about eight thousand people and was "booming." We
played four weeks to good paying business. This fairly exhausted the
Bates repertoire, and business began to fall off appreciably. So a
farewell benefit was worked up for Mrs. Bates and she made her final
appearance at Pioche in a blaze of glory, chiefly emanating from a
diamond ring with which she was presented on the memorable occasion as
a token of regard to a distinguished actress from a few of her Pioche
admirers. The Bateses were fortunate. They had been playing on a large
percentage of the gross receipts and had cleared up quite a nice
little stake in the four weeks they had played and they struck out at
once for San Francisco, and from there went to Australia where, in
'78, Frank Bates died, after which Mrs. Bates and Blanche, now a girl
of eight, returned to San Francisco in 1880. Maguire still kept myself
and Dunne and the rest of the company, thinking that with some new and
lighter plays we could still do a paying business. The results were
not very satisfactory. We played several weeks in a sort of spasmodic
way, and then organized a little traveling company in which a clever
young girl, Maggie Knight, whom Maguire had discovered, was a feature,
and we played back to the C. P. R. R. On one of these occasions in
Pioche, a very ludicrous thing happened which should not go
unrecorded. We were playing the burlesque of "Pocahontas." Maguire was
playing Captain John Smith, the writer Powhatan, and Johnny Dunne, as
we were short of ladies, was playing Pocahontas. In the scene where
Smith is brought in a prisoner and is about to be executed, a
catastrophe happened to John Maguire, so sudden and appalling, should
he live to be as old as Methusaleh, I doubt if he would ever forget
it. Where Smith says, after viewing the stone on which he is to be
decapitated,
"It's a hard pill, but a harder piller,
Life's a conundrum," and Powhatan replies:
"Then lie down and give it up."
Just at this point a sudden scream emanated from one of the boxes,
which were well filled on this occasion with the demi monde, then
several screams of laughter, then the whole audience began to roar
with laughter. I knew something had gone wrong for there was nothing
in the text to extort such screams and peals of laughter. I glanced
over the group on the stage, and to my amazement I saw Mac's trunks
had dropped down to his feet, and he, all unconscious of the fact, was
standing there in a pair of thin cotton tights. His knee pants or
trunks, were of very light material and the drawstring with which they
were fastened around his waist, had given way and they dropped to the
floor, and so excited was he in his character he did not notice it. I
said to him in _sotto voce_, "Your pants are down." Then he cast his
eyes down, and the look of abject despair that came over his face as
he said in a subdued tone, "Oh, my God!" and stopped and pulled the
gauzy things up to their place and walked off the stage to readjust
them, we can never forget. The girls at this resumed their screams of
laughter and the audience roared until they were tired. When the noise
subsided, Maguire, with his costume adjusted, came back to finish the
scene, but it was several minutes before we could proceed, so much did
the audience enjoy this simple accident. Maguire remained in Pioche
some time after I left there, and finally left the place worse off by
far than when he went there, and I did not see the genial John again
till I went to Portland in '78 to play in the New Market theatre of
which he was the manager. Just before the departure of Mr. and Mrs.
Bates, John Dunne and myself for Pioche, the Cogswell-Carter company
arrived in Salt Lake, having traveled by stage and team from
California, playing the towns en route.
This company consisted of J. W. Carter, Carrie Carter, W. J. Cogswell
(Carrie's brother), Ed. Harden, Lincoln J. Carter (then a very small
boy), and probably one or two others, minor people who did not come
into publicity here. On arriving here the party waited upon President
Brigham Young to pay their respects, and to inform him that they had
been commanded by the spirit world, with which they had been having
communications (by the "Planchette" route), to go to Salt Lake and
join the Mormon church as that was the true church and the only one
that could save them. This told in all apparent sincerity, with the
request to be baptized, was altogether a pleasing surprise to Brigham
and his counsellors, and the Cogswell-Carter company were warmly
welcomed. They were baptized and confirmed into the church without
delay, and within a few days they were all engaged at the Salt Lake
Theatre. Their coming was very timely for the theatre managers, for
they had lost several of their leading people. "Jim" Hardie had gone
for good, McKenzie, who had been playing steadily since the opening of
the theatre in '62 and was wearied with study, had been released and
sent on a mission in the belief the change would benefit him; John
Lindsay was off on a "fool's errand" playing for John Maguire in
Pioche, and the Cogswell-Carter-Marden accession filled the gap very
nicely, and the season progressed to its close without much friction.
During the absence of Mr. Dunne and myself from Salt Lake the
following attractions appeared at the theatre. Jean Clara Walters, W.
J. Cogswell and the stock company from February 8th to March 10th, on
which date a new play by Edward L. Sloan (then editor of the Salt Lake
Herald) was produced. It was entitled "Stage and Steam." It was
intended to show the advance of civilization. It had a railroad scene
and a stage coach in it and a sensational saw mill scene, where a man
was placed on the log carriage to be sliced into boards, but was
rescued just in the nick of time. Jos. Arthur's saw mill scene in
"Blue Jeans" is exactly the same thing, although it is scarcely
probable that Mr. Arthur ever saw Sloan's play. The play only had two
performances. March 10th to 15th, Frank Hussey and Blanche Clifton
held the boards in "Hazard" and some other plays. Marion Mordaunt was
the next stellar attraction and gave "The Colleen Bawn" and "Hearts
are Trumps" the 17th to 10th. On the 24th a star of the first
magnitude appeared. It was Augusta Dargon. She opened in "Camille" and
played also "Deborah (Leah)," "Lady Macbeth," "Meg Merrilles" and
"Lucretia Borgia." Miss Dargon was one of the greatest actresses our
country ever produced, but she was not financially successful. She is
the only American actress who has ever played Tennyson's "Queen Mary."
Mrs. John Drew made a costly production of this play at the Arch
Street Theatre, Philadelphia, with Augusta Dargon as the star during
the Centennial. But it was not a financial success. The writer did not
meet Miss Dargon till 1878, when she came to the New Market theatre in
Portland and played a two weeks' engagement under the management of
our old friend John Maguire. Here I had the pleasure (and hard work)
of playing the opposite roles to her in her extensive repertory,
changing the bill nearly every night during her engagement. Toward the
close of it she put up Tennyson's "Queen Mary" in which I had to play
King Phillip of Spain on two days' study, a very long, arduous part,
that put me on my mettle to master it; also studied and played
"Cardinal Wolsey" for the first time during this engagement. Miss
Dargon, who was under the management of Henry Greenwald, after her
Portland engagement, made a tour of the "sound" playing Tacoma,
Seattle, Port Townsend and Victoria, supported by the New Market
Theatre company, and returning, played a few more nights in Portland,
then took steamer for Australia. Under Mr. Greenwald's management she
had played successful engagements both in San Francisco and Portland,
and when she opened in Melbourne she just captivated the city, playing
extraordinary engagements both there and in Sidney. The press of
Australia printed volumes in her praise. She made a great triumph, and
in the very flush of her victory, some wealthy Australian captured
her. She got married and retired from the stage, and Greenwald was
forced to return without her. She never came back to us. Her return
engagement here was played before she went to Australia.
Mr. "Bill" Cogswell seemed to have dropped out of the company before
Miss Dargon's engagement and consequently David McKenzie was her
principal support. After the Dargon engagement, which closed March
29th, Jean Clara Walters, Florence Kent and the stock company played
through the April conference without a star attraction, and filled up
time to April 28th when for some reason the season closed but was
reopened on May 3rd with the stock company who played up to the 6th.
On the 8th of May, Augusta Dargon began a return engagement which
lasted till the 15th. She opened in the new play "Unmasked," and
repeated "Deborah," "Camille," and "Lady Macbeth," and closed in a new
piece "The Rising of the Moon." It speaks highly of Miss Dargon's
popularity in Salt Lake that she should play a return engagement in
five weeks after her first one.
Blind Tom, the musical prodigy, was the next attraction. He played but
one night, May 17th. On the 19th Annette Ince began a return
engagement of six nights and a matinee and the record shows a change
of play for each performance. She gave "Elizabeth," "Mary Stuart,"
"Medea," "The Hunchback," "The Stranger," "The Honeymoon," and the
"Lady of Lyons." This repertory in one week undoubtedly kept the
company right busy. Miss Ince was a sterling actress, and always gave
satisfaction, but she did not possess the faculty of making your blood
thrill in your veins and your hair rise occasionally that Miss Dargon
had. It is just a little singular how she came so close on Miss
Dargon's heels this time. It seems like poor management to play two
lady stars, so nearly alike in repertoire, so close together, but
these accidents would happen once in a while. Frank Hussey and Blanche
Clifton came back for two nights, May 26th and 27th. Then the stock
had to take up the burden again and carry it from May 28th to June
21st. By June 1st John Dunne and the writer had returned from the
Pioche trip and were back in their old positions in the company. Dunne
had a surprise party in store for him on his return. Instead of being
received with open arms and loving embraces by his bride of a night,
she coldly repulsed him and refused ever to live with him, and she
kept her word. This was owing to things she had heard about John and
his freedom with other females while he was at Pioche. This did not
discourage Dunne, however, from trying again. He has had several wives
since, the best known being Patti Rosa, a talented actress whom he
managed and married. Clara, on the other hand, was not inconsolable,
and her enchantment with the stage and stage actors having been rather
rudely dispelled, she sought "surcease from sorrow" in the affections
of a well to do farmer, who has proven more constant, and with whom
she has raised a representative Mormon family.
Madam Anna Bishop put in a week of high class concert from June the
25th to 30th. On July 2nd John W. Dunne took a benefit, on which
occasion we repeated one of our Pioche performances with an important
change of cast. "Theresa, or the Cross of Gold" and "Pocahontas" was
the bill. Dunne did not find the atmosphere of Salt Lake so congenial
to him as it had been and did not remain for the next season. I next
met him in Cheyenne in '78. He was married and apparently contented,
working at his trade of printer.
The business, after Dunne's benefit, seems to have been spasmodic. The
stock kept on playing, however, during the month of July. That it did
business at all was remarkable, but there being no "resorts" and the
theatre the coolest place in town, in some measure accounts for its
keeping open during the torrid heat of the summer.
Weiniawska, the Polish violinist, gave a concert on the 12th. George
Waldron and his wife drifted in and played a few nights up to the
17th. Then W. O. Crosbie and his wife, Arrah Crosbie, and James A.
Vinson, drifted in from the northwest and were given a few nights.
"Jim" Vinson was featured in the play of "Quits" and "Billie" Crosbie
in some favorite farce, supported by Arrah and the stock company. Both
Vinson and Crosbie made a very favorable impression which resulted in
them being engaged by the management for the following season. It
looked as if all the other theatres in the West had closed and the
actors had come trouping to Salt Lake to get summer engagements. Now
comes Carrie Cogswell-Carter and the available stock to the front.
They opened on the 26th and played till the 30th, and the season
closed.