ON THE ROAD WITH DICK KOHLER, MR. VIVIAN, WALTER CAMPBELL, MR. WAND
AND CHARLES ATKINS
In 1876, I signed a six weeks' agreement with the Vivian Kohler Troupe
to tour Oregon, Victoria and the cities on Puget Sound. We sailed from
San Francisco on February 24 on the steamer City of Panama. Our party
was made up of six people: Mr. Dick Kohler, the only Vivian, Walter C.
Campbell, Margaret B. Alverson, Mr. Wand, pianist, Mr. Charles Atkins,
advance agent. We were a goodly company indeed, all up in our parts
and anticipating success in our venture. We arrived in Victoria,
February 28. As we landed, rockets were sent up and cannons gave forth
a deafening roar to inform the people the steamer had arrived, but it
was too late for us to disembark, and reluctantly we repaired to our
bunks to pass another night on board. Morning came at last and I
opened my eyes upon a quiet little bay surrounded by high, rocky
mountains, covered with foliage, including tall pines, and in the
distance the snow-capped mountains, lighting up the background of the
beautiful scene before me. By seven o'clock we were taken ashore in
small skiffs to the opposite shore where we were met by our agent, Mr.
Atkins, who had arranged for our conveyance to Victoria. After a smart
ride of an hour we stopped at the Fayhard Hotel, too early for these
slow Englishmen. After a decided rattling at a heavy dark oaken door
of an ancient-looking mansion, a dull, grim old Chinese made his
appearance, wondering who was disturbing his slumbers at such an early
hour. The landlord, a polite little Frenchman, greeted us with many
bows and much palaver and popped behind the bar, which motion was not
lost on the chilled travelers who called for their favorite and drank
with a satisfied smack. I felt like the dog who had gotten into bad
company, the saloon being the only room with a fire. After a half hour
of waiting we heard the welcome call for breakfast to which we needed
no second bidding. I am a victim of sea-sickness and had eaten
nothing during the entire voyage except a little gruel, and I leave
you to imagine what I did to the delicious breakfast placed before me,
served only as Frenchmen can serve. It consisted of fish, chops,
steak, rolls, coffee, potatoes and an omelette.
After breakfast I was shown to my room where I had a good view of the
town and I found we had been largely billed to appear on Thursday
night. We had a day of rest before our first performance. We moved in
the meantime to the Colonial Hotel or Driard House, and were shown to
a comfortable room with a fireplace, quaint and small, in which a
bright fire was burning. The room was cheerful and attractive with
many windows. The floors were painted and covered with rugs, bright
and warm, and the white French curtains hung as in the days of
Napoleon. Mahogany furniture of old fashioned shape added to the
strange furnishing which was very attractive, and I felt at home at
once. About ten o'clock that morning, Walter Campbell came and
escorted me to the cupola of the hotel where we could see the city for
miles, a good-sized place, with several prominent buildings and
churches and a fine sight of Mount Baker in the distance, covered with
snow. After a quarter of an hour we decided to have breakfast and
joined the rest of the company and a stranger who was presented to us
as Commodore Maury, a pleasant and distinguished-looking man who was a
welcome addition to our company and extended us many a courtesy while
we were in the city. After breakfast the company separated. I retired
to my room and practiced an hour before going to try the voices in the
Theater Royal. While in the midst of my practice a queer accident
occurred in front of the hotel. A man in a watering cart, in backing
up to the sidewalk, turned too abruptly and the traces gave way, the
cart turned turtle and the poor horse hung in mid-air. Relief was soon
at hand, a dozen or more of the brawny Englishmen righted the position
of the animal and all was over and no harm done. After a good laugh
everyone went his way. At ten o'clock we strolled to the theater to
look it over. The people of Victoria think it is fine. They ought to
come to California and pattern after some of our playhouses. It was
small, the acoustics bad and the mixtures of colors was as a
crazy-quilt to me. The boxes were ludicrous in their attempt at
ornamentation. The seats were long benches, upholstered with
solferino-colored damask and the scenes were the merest daubs. We
did not rehearse in the theater. We returned to the hotel and
rehearsed in the parlors for an hour, then each one retired for the
night.
[Illustration:
Rev. Dr. J.K. McLean
First Congregational Church
Oakland, 1890
Rev. P.Y. Cool
First M.E. Church
Santa Cruz, 1864
Rev. V.M. Law
Church of the Advent
East Oakland, 1898
Rev. Father Akerly
St. John's Episcopal Church
Oakland, 1894
Rev. Giles A. Easton
Calvary Episcopal Church
Santa Cruz, 1864