THE SORROWS OF A SHOW GIRL
A STORY OF THE GREAT "WHITE WAY"
BY KENNETH MCGAFFEY
1908
These Stories were originally printed in
_The Morning Telegraph_, New York.
CONTENTS
Chapter
Explanation
1 Sabrina Discourses Theatrical Conditions
2 The Carrier Pigeon as a Benefit to Humanity
3 Sabrina Receives Money from an Unexpected Source
4 Sabrina Receives Her Fortune and Says Farewell to the Hall Bedroom
5 Sabrina Visits Her Patents in Emporia, and Shocks that Staid Town
6 Details of How Sabrina Stood Emporia on Edge and was Ejected
Therefrom
7 The Chorus Girls' Union Gave their Annual Ball
8 Sabrina Falls In Love with a Press Agent with Hectic Chatter
9 Sabrina Returns to the Chorus, so that She Can Keep Her Automobile
Without Causing Comment
10 Sabrina and Her Former Room-mate Involved in an Argument at a
Beefsteak Party
11 The Dramatic Possibilities of the "Mangled Doughnut"
12 Sabrina Passes a Few Remarks on Love, Comedians, and Spring Millinery
13 Sabrina Scores a Great Personal Success
14 Methods of the House Breakers' Association Disclosed
15 Sabrina Denounces the Male Sex as Being All Alike, and Threatens to
Take the Veil
16 After Investigating the Country Atmosphere Carefully, Sabrina Says
the Only Healthful Ozone is Out of a Champagne Bottle
17 Sabrina Visits the Racetrack and Returns with Money
18 A Pink Whiskered Bark Tries to Convert the Merry-merry
19 Sabrina Advises Chorus Girls, Charging Time for their Company
20 Sabrina is Married and Goes Abroad on Her Wedding Trip
EXPLANATION.
In the following chapters some of Sabrina's remarks are likely to cause
the reader to elevate his eyebrows in suspicion as to her true
character.
In order to set myself right with both the public and the vast army of
Sabrinas that add youth and beauty to our stage, and brilliancy and
gaiety to our well known cafes, I wish to say that she is all that she
should be. She is a young lady who, no matter how old she may be, does
not look it. She is always well dressed, perhaps a little in advance of
the fashion, but invariably in good taste. Among strangers or in public
places her conduct is all that could be desired, while with those of her
own set she becomes more familiar and may occasionally lapse into slang.
Fate may compel her to earn her own living or she may receive an income
from a source that has nothing to do with these stories. Any person
without the circle of theatrical or newspaper life is looked upon as an
interloper by Sabrina and treated accordingly. Hundreds of her like may
be found any evening after the theatre in the cafes and restaurants of
the "wiseacres" known as the "Tenderloin."
KENNETH MCGAFFEY.
In which Sabrina rushes on the scene and begins to discourse
breathlessly on theatrical conditions, boobs that send poetry
for presents, the tribulations of hunting employment, and the
outlook for a New Year's dinner.
CHAPTER ONE
"Ain't it appalling," demanded Sabrina, the Show Girl, "ain't it
appalling the way the show game has gone to the morgue this season?
"I never seen nothing like it since I been in the business, and while I
ain't going to flash no family Bible that's been some time. Why, shows
that were making money if they played to thirty-two dollars on the day
just naturally died. Me? You know I wasn't hep to the outlook. I come
prancing into town fresh from doing one-night stands through the
uncultured West. We did bum business for fair, but shucks, there ain't
five dollars' worth of real money in all of Southern Kansas at no time.
Salaries! Huh! I had to send home for money to pay my fines with. I
cavort gaily out to hunt a job and find a line from Mr. Seymour's office
that made the run on the Knickerbocker Trust Company look like the
nightly window sale of 'The Evangelist.' I never seen so many of my
friends in town at one time in my life, and if you make a noise like a
dollar-bill anywhere between the two Flatirons you're liable to be the
center of a raging mob. I heard it breathed that all the theatrical
storehouses in town were playing to S.R.O.
"I got a chance to shake down a little change as prima donna with a
turkey show. What do you know about that? I played with one last
Thanksgiving, and--excuse these tears--it was a college town and the
show was on the blink. 'Nough said. The manager hasn't left there yet.
"Oh, Listerine, have you heard the news? Alia McGraw has turned poetess.
You know she always was peculiar. I was visiting her the other evening
in her dressing room when she declared that she was going to give up her
dramatic art and go to painting word pictures. Whatever they are. You
see it was this way: She had a boob on her staff who was paying her his
devoted attention. According to her statistics that's all he ever did
pay for. Well, he commenced doing advance work about a present he was
going to give her until he got poor Alla to thinking that it was nothing
less than an automobile, and she treated him accordingly. One morning a
messenger boy makes his entrance into the flat and hands her a book. Can
you beat that? The only thing that kept Alia from foaming at the mouth
was because she was combing her Dutch braid. It--the book--was called a
Rubaiyat by Omar Quinine, or something like that. This Omar party never
wrote a comic opera in his life. But Alla wasn't discouraged, for she
looked through every page in hopes of finding a Clearing House
certificate, but not a leaf stirred. All she came across was a marked
verse that went something like this:
"A book of verse underneath a bough,
A Jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou
Beside me sitting in the wilderness--
Oh, wilderness is Paradise enow.
"Did you ever hear of such a short sport? Wanted to buy it by the keg
and go sit under a tree in Bronx Park. As soon as Alla run out of
language she sat down and in less than three hours doped out an answer.
I got it here on the back of her laundry list:
"A book of verse is not what I can use,
But give me, if still my love is thine,
A wine list from which to pick and choose.
Cut out the shady bough for mine.
"Give your bough to some nice 'feller,'
And if you would make my life sublime
Put me in some cool rathskeller
And we'll forget the jug of wine.
"Wine in a jug! What do I hear?
Not with a loaf of bread and thou,
A cheese sandwich and a glass of beer,
Unless you've changed your brand ere now.
"This sitting in the wilderness may be fine
For those who the realms of nature seek,
A restaurant is at least a paradise divine
With payday on the first of every week.
"I guess maybe that won't show him up! Ain't it just glorious? It's
kinda wabbly on its feet, but just think, it's her first attempt. She
said there were a lot more things she could say, but even her desire to
be a poetess wouldn't let her forget that she was a lady. Alla told me
that the height of her ambition was to write the words of a popular song
and have Harry Von Seltzer sing it in the College Inn. She can't ever
make a hit as a poem producer though 'cause she hasn't got high cheek
bones and teeth like a squirrel. Alla was pensive all through the first
act, and while she was making her change from a lady-in-waiting to a
bathing girl she remarked that she was going to write an ode--past tense
of I O U, I guess--entitled 'Thoughts on Hearing Ben Teal Conduct a
Chorus Rehearsal.' They won't let her publish it.
"What do you know about the new law about tanks having to have their
names on the barroom door? I see where the Metropole will lose money
unless they furnish disguises to their steady customers. Can you imagine
the suspense certain parties will feel when they rush into a shop for
their early morning 'thought mop' and have to cling to the bar while
Arthur looks up their past performances in Bingham's Bartenders' Guide.
"A gentleman friend had the kindness to extend me courtesies to 'The
Witching Hour' the other evening, and listen to muh: There is some class
to that show. Ain't you seen it? It's a song and dance about this mental
telepathy gag. There is a gambling gentleman who can tell a poker hand
every time. The only reason he ain't a heiress is because his conscience
jumps up and gives him a kick in the face. This party in the play
influences people's minds. He thinks of something, and people miles away
think of the same thing. All the same wireless. Take it from me, there's
a whole lot to it at that. I was out with a kind friend the other
evening whose general disposition is to try and make Frank Daniels look
like a spendthrift, so I knew it would be beer for mine unless I made a
great mental effort, so all the way up the street in the taxicab I just
held thumbs and concentrated my mind--I saw more new style hats,
too--and said to myself, 'For Heaven's sake, order wine,' 'Please loosen
up and order wine.' All to myself, you understand, never once out loud,
for though I am in the business I don't seek the reputation as a working
girl.
"Well I hope I may never look a lobster in the face again. No, I am not
speaking of this party. But I hope I may never look a lobster in the
face again if he didn't swell all up, prance into the eat hut and say
careless like over his shoulder to the waiter, 'A bottle of that Brut.'
Just like that. I tried the concentration gag on him for a pearl ring he
had on, thinking I had him under the gypsy curse, but there was a person
who had the nerve to call herself a lady who had been saying things
about me sitting at another table with a Harry who had led me to believe
that I was his own little Star of Hope, and I just couldn't get my mind
centered.
"Honest to goodness, I don't know what I'll do unless I find work. My
suite of apartments is reduced now to one hall room and a closet, and
the Dennett & Child's circuit is beginning to look like K. & E. booking.
The only thing I can think of for me to do is to get engaged and hock
the betrothal ring for a meal ticket.
"Me for roller skates. Here I've been hunting a job until I wore out two
pair of these Sorosis things and not a bush shakes. Can't even sign a
contract for a Friday night amateur contest. By gum, I'd take a job
barking for a snake race. I had an offer to go into vaudeville. What do
you know about that? The act hasn't any time yet, but it will get time
as soon as it makes good, and to make good all its needs is a trial
performance, and the backer thinks he knows where he can get a trial
performance, and to get ready for the trial performance will require
about five weeks' rehearsal at nix per week. Do you think a stunt like
that is worthy of my attention? Adversity does sure land on the poor
chorus doll with both feet at every stage of the game.
"I was reading in the paper the other day that some old pappy guy out in
Chi was making a noisy fuss that the chorus ladies stay up too late
nights. I wish somebody would show him to me, that's all I ask, just
show him to me. I suppose old Pink Whiskers was a chorus man once
himself and has got all the dope on the subject. So we stay up late, do
we? I suppose he will be wanting us to read helpful books instead of
making up, next. To my mind, of course I may be wrong, but to my mind
the staying up late nights ain't half as bad as getting up in the
morning. Of course, I don't know who or what this old wop is that made
this crack, but if he thinks we spend most of our time in sinful
idleness he'd better copper his bet. All we do is rehearse all morning,
matinee all afternoon, performance all evening and travel all night. The
rest of the time we have to ourselves, and he thinks we frivol. Why, he
ain't wise to half the privations they force on us. Would you believe
it? I have gone forty weeks without never even catching a glimpse of
Broadway, and once went for ten without even a cheese sandwich to bring
gladness to my heart. Can you beat that? And then he goes and turns
loose a rebel yell because when we do get a little time to ourselves we
stay up late nights. Oh, Mellen's Food! When does he want us to stay up?
Mornings? Some wise boy once said, 'Early to bed, early to rise, but you
don't meet any prominent people,' and I guess maybe he wasn't right. He
got the number then all right, all right, and he didn't have to speak
harsh to Central at that. We gotta do something to amuse ourselves, and
I never had a traveling gentleman yet conduct me to a watch meeting. A
girl comes out of the stage door tired and lonesome; some village cut-up
prances out and gets acquainted; the girl is hungry, so why not? Perhaps
she is sending money home every week and can't afford a little lunch
after the show herself. No, that's no taproom jest. There is more than
one of the merry-merry putting her little sister through school and
don't you forget it for a minute. And he gets sore because we stay up
late nights. He'd better roll another pill, get at the cause and then
hang the curfew on a few of those town romps. If he hands out another
song and dance number like that again, send him up to me, I'll give him
a bunch of inside info that will make him think something broke loose.
"I managed to slip in and see 'The Talk of New York' the other night.
Say, that's a great play. Did you get wise to the way that Kid Burns
party juggles the loose talk? I don't believe there ever was a party
that slings slang the way that guy does. My mother was always particular
about my bringing up, and if I ever passed out any of this George Cohan
style of repartee she would give me a slap on the map and tell me to
chase back and handle my harangue as per Mr. Webster. So, though I have
traveled about a bit, I still retain my pure English, even when I lose
my temper, which is going some for a lady.
"What am I going to do New Year's? I know one thing. I ain't going to
play an encore to the sozzle session number I pulled off last season.
Didn't you hear about it? Evidently you were not on Broadway last New
Year's Eve. A couple of young ladies and myself were playing a
progressive hell party all up and down the main street. You see, you
play it this way. A guy comes up and blows a horn in your ear. You swat
the horn quickly on the end with your hand. If the guy swallows more
than half the horn you win and are allowed to 'phone for the ambulance.
But that was only a prelude to the main event. Ah, me! I blush to
chronicle it. There were so many shows in town that the supply of
college students didn't come up to the demand, and as me and the bunch
had sorta turned them down after they went and lost all their money on
the Thanksgiving game, so we had an intimation that developed into a
hunch that our little 'welcome' mat on the doorstep would not be crowded
with an eager throng. We engaged a couple of window tables at the Cafe
des Beaux Minks realizing that though we were not in the money we were
still on the track. This was last New Year's Eve. New Year's afternoon
we held a reception up at Miss Verneaque's flat, took up a collection
for the widows and orphans and cleared $4.43 apiece on it. The place got
pinched and we all had to hide on the roof until the cops beat it. But
not for me this year. Me for the peaceful kind of a celebration. I don't
know what to do. The only people I have on my calling list now are the
agents, and they will all be home splashing in the egg-nog.
"Gee, but I wish I was home. Was you ever in a country town on a New
Year's Day? Say, list. Sixty laughs in sixty minutes looks like a busy
day at the morgue compared to the laughs they hand out in one of those
one-night stand dumps. The Sons of Temperance all go out and get a bun
on ad lib. and everybody inhales good cheer. I sang in the choir. Honest
I did, but it didn't take. I got a silver cigarette case yet the
choirmaster gave me. But no home this year; me to the Cafe des Enfants.
What? Will I? Don't make such a foolish noise. I'll be there with my
hair in a braid. Two-thirty at Hector's. Say, you've got the Good
Samaritan looking like a rent collector. So long."
In which Sabrina discloses a little of her past and those of the
members of the company, tells how she was a bridesmaid and goes
into detail in regard to the benefit to humanity of having
carrier pigeons trained to rush the growler.
CHAPTER TWO
I was strolling down Broadway the other afternoon with Oscar when we
happened to meet Miss Sabrina, the show girl. I introduced them, of
course, and then retired to the background. This is what followed:
"I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Jenkins. I've heard the party here
speak of you."
"Yes; and I have heard him say several nice things about you."
"Is that so?"
"Sure. But don't take it to heart; he means well."
"Well, I can only say he treats me like a true friend."
"Speaking of treats, I'll buy the beer."
"My goodness! Ain't you afraid of catching cold--taking so much money
out of your clothes all at once?"
"What was that you handed out? Come again, please."
"I merely remarked that it was awful kind of you."
"Oh, that's all right; I always was careless with my money."
"I always like this place; it reminds me so much of the back of the drug
store in Emporia."
"Then you are from the West, Miss De Vear."
"Oh, yes, indeed, I'm a Western girl pure and simple--"
"You said, 'pure and simple,' did you not?"
"I most certainly did, and I'd like to see the party that's got anything
on me. I come from a dead swell family, I do. I may be only a poor
chorus girl, but by gosh! I was brung up right. Did you know that I was
featured for three seasons in the church choir in my home town and would
have had it for life if the stage manag--I mean the choirmaster hadn't
forgot he was a gentleman; so I just quit rather than cause talk. Why,
would you believe it?--my father was mayor of Emporia for nearly two
terms. You'd be surprised if I told you my real name and some of the
people I am related to. Say, what are you going to do with that book?
Trying to dope out whether you can buy another drink, I suppose."
"No. I'm just keeping track of the girls I met whose fathers are mayors
of towns. I've got forty-seven for Providence, R.I., fifteen for Peoria,
Ill., ten for Atlanta, Ga., and your two makes seven for Emporia. I've
got fifty-three for chief of police, twenty-one fire captains, and
eleven postmas--"
"Excuse me, but are you trying to infer that I am telling an untruth?"
"Oh, forget it! Can't you stand a little jolly without going up in the
air?"
"Well, I'll accept your apology, but I don't like to have people casting
slurs on my pa and ma, and beer wont appease my wrath when I feel like a
highball.
"Go as far as you like. I was only ordering what I thought you were
accustomed to."
"Say, Mr. Percival B. Fresh, you certainly are the village wag when it
comes to the Oriental repartee, ain't you?"
"Sure I am, but I have to go to the mat when they commence to dish out
this Emporia humor. Oh. Laza! Do you care for the one in red?"
"Of course I may go wrong, but in my mind no gentleman would make
remarks about another girl when he is with a lady."
"Say, girlie, you're all right--lovely hair, beautiful eyes and all
that--but cut it; drop in your penny and get wise to yourself. That's a
great show you are with."
"When was you out front?"
"Night before last."
"Night before last! My Heavens! Wasn't I a sight? You know the girl I
dress with had been out to a wine supper and she came splashing into the
dressing room lit up like a show window and cried my makeup box full of
tears over the death of her baby sister, and the way I had to put it on
I thought was sure good for a fine, and to make matters worse some hussy
got next to all my toothpicks and I had to use a hairpin for a liner;
but did you notice the way that cat of a soubrette keeps me out of the
spotlight? Professional jealousy, that's all; but it don't do me no good
to kick, because the stage manager sends her silk stockings and that
kind of junk, while the best I get is a chance to hold hands with the
electrician; but, of course, he gets his orders."
"Say, that piece of work that stands on the end opposite you is all to
the berries, ain't she?"
"Her!"
"Surest thing you know. She looks like a night-blooming pippin to me."
"My, gracious, Mr. Jenkins, I never knocked a living soul, but I don't
mind telling you as a friend that I personally would not degrade myself
by speaking to her, and of course you know that the hair she wears is
not her own. I haven't a thing in the world against the poor creature,
but it has been breathed around the company that she is not all she
should be. Of course, I don't know positively, but it is what everybody
says, and I only wish she would make good with that four bits of mine."
"Well, I'm glad there's no hard feeling between you two, as I would like
to meet her."
"I'm very sorry, but you will have to pardon me if I refuse to give you
a knockdown, for I would steer no friend of a friend of mine up against
a flim flam where there's so many nice girls running loose. Take Tessie
Samonies, for example, she ain't very pretty, but she's awfully cute,
and after she gets a couple of sloe gins boosted into her she certainly
is the life of the party."
"All right, frame it up for me and I'll open wine or a window or
something to show that I'm a true sport."
"You bet I will, and we'll have a nice little family party, no knocking
or nothing; just sit and talk real friendly like."
"That's the idea and if anyone starts the anvil chorus they get the
skiddo. What? Who will we have?"
"Well, let's see, we'll have Tessie and you, me and Silent Murphy
here--and let's see who else?"
"Joe Zeweibaum and Miss Veronique."
"Not yet. Joe is all right in a crowd if you can keep him from talking
about his sales, but the dame--not for me, for if there's any one gets
my goat she's it."
"Shall we have Frank Millar and his first wife?"
"Oh, heavings! No! For if we did his third wife would hear about it and
then she would knock me to my husband, for you know they are engaged, so
if she hears anything about me you can bet she plays it up strong."
"Well, can't you think of some one else?"
"No, I don't know a soul that is any good but us four. My goodness, I've
got to roll my hoop and do a shopping number, get my hair gargled--I
slept in it last night--and see a sick friend.
"Fate sure does sic tribulations on me at every turn of the road. This
business of hunting employment has got to be so balmy that I snort and
jump sideways every time anybody says 'job.'
"Now that the first of the year has kicked in, I thought everything
would be as merry as a marriage bell, but as yet there hasn't been a
ripple on the water. The only thing that acts as a star of hope to my
miserable existence is a date with a Summer stock that opens the first
of June, and there is a heap of smoke around that. I wish some one would
tip me off to some way of earning an honest living without having to
resort to a sock full of sand or a strong arm. But why be downhearted? I
haven't drunk up all my Christmas presents yet. As a last hope I can
load upon them and get some kind ambulance to drag me up to the dippy
department of some nice hospital. Honest, I am getting so thin that
before long I won't be able to understudy a drop of water in Mr. Hawk's
Hippodrome.
"A nice gentleman presented himself to me on Broadway the other evening
and, after passing the compliments of the season, invited me out to
inhale a young table d'hote. The way I sprang to his side made a leap
for life seem like sinful idleness. And where do you think he took me? I
ask as a friend, Where do you think he took me? To one of those joints
where you get everything from soup to nuts, including a scuttle full of
red ink for thirty-five scudi. I was going to balk and rear in the
harness when he started to lead me up the steps of the foundry, but as I
always maintained discretion is the better part of valor, I'm two-bits
ahead anyway you play it. So I climb into the nosebag without a peep.
Yet--would you believe it?--when that wop came to cash in he shook the
mothballs out of a roll of bills that looked like nine miles' worth of
hall carpet. I had been acting very reserved heretofore, but when he
made this flash he commenced to look like a very dear friend of mine who
had been very kind to me in moments of adversity. I apprised him of the
fact, and the dog had the temerity to pin his pocket shut with a safety
pin right before my eyes. I come to find out later that he was a press
agent. Ain't it scandalous the way the Friars wine and dine the
dramatists every few weeks? I tried to agitate a bunch for the chorus
girls to give a dinner to Ben Teal or William Seymour, but while they
were all willing to be in on the big eat the way they ducked the
financial responsibilities would have made you think it was a
half-salary clause.
"The other day I put my ear to the ground and then cavorted madly around
to Mr. Savage's office to see if there was anything doing in the 'Merry
Widow' line. The handsome gentleman on the other side of the desk
allowed a ripple of merriment to float over his features and then spake
as follows: 'All we got to do is to toll the bell in the old church
tower and nine companies will answer like the fire department.' You know
I could have gone with the Paris 'Prince of Pilson' company, but those
French gentlemen are so emotional. One tried to bite my ear in Jack's
the other night.
"Did I tell you about Mamie de Vere becoming a bride again? She believes
in marrying at leisure and divorcing in haste. The justice of the peace
that always ties her nuptial knot told her that if she bought a ticket
she could save 50 cents per wedding and he would hand it to the happy
bridegroom as her dowry. Well, anyway they got maried after the show, so
that she wouldn't loose her job. I was maid of honor. Honest I was.
Don't it sound funny? And I carried her bouquet as the bridal party
marched up the hall to the office of the justice of the peace. Just as
he was about to pronounce the last sad rites a hurdy-gurdy started
playing 'Don't Get Married Any More, Ma,' with variations. Well, it made
Mamie so nervous. You know she always was a hysterical creature. It made
her so nervous that she had to have Wilbur--that's her husband--go out
and put a bug on the Ginny before she would allow the flag to drop. Then
we went out and had our wedding breakfast. There were six or eight in
the crowd, I don't rightly remember which, for sometimes there would be
only a few and then again it would be a turbid throng.
"A couple of whisky sales gentlemen joined our little gathering and
proposed a race. You know I do so love athletic sports. I don't mean
prize fighters or ball players, but feats of strength. The whisky
gentlemen had a little the best start, for they had been running trial
heats. The way we staged that drinking number was a crime. How we ended
up I care not, neither do I spin. I can merely state that Mamie and I
slid for home in a sea-going taxicab, leaving Wilbur saying things to
the head waiter that no lady would listen to.
"Oh, say, are you here with any extra junk? No, this ain't no touch. But
if you have got a reckless bundle I know how you can double it in a few
weeks. A gentleman friend of mine was captain of a fake wire-tapping
game until he got put out of business by the hard times and the lack of
suckers--synonymous. He is selling stock of a proposition that has
anything from Goldfield chased back to the desert. This is the scheme:
Listerine. He's going to train carrier pigeons to rush the growler. The
Chorus Girls' Union have already elected him an honorary vice-president.
You see, he gets these birds and trains them to carry the pail in their
teeth and smell out the nearest saloon, even a blind tiger--no matter
where they are. Then he rents the birds out by the dozen to the
theatrical organizations--special rates to musical comedies--so that all
the poor merry-merry has to do if there is no gentleman without is get a
bird from the property man, beat it for the furnished room, drop ten
cents in the bucket, write a little note to the bartender merely
stating: 'Mother has company, so not so much foam, please,' open the
window and start the dove of peace on its mission of happiness. You
needn't be afraid of the pigeon sneaking up an alley and drinking half
of it and then coming back with the stall, 'The boss is on tonight;
there ain't no bellhop to tip and all the bird wants is three or four
grains of corn, mother, and its just as happy and care free as if you
opened wine. Won't that be a boon to humanity, though? If he don't get a
Carnegie medal things are run wrong. Another stunt he is going to pull
off is canned cheese sandwiches. Well, I got to toddle along. The
Ladies' Auxiliary to the Anvil Chorus is going to hold a meeting in Alla
Sweenie's apartments. Was you ever one of them? Well, when those dames
get on the job and are grouped it makes Elinor Glyn's opinion of the
Pilgrim Mothers seem like words of praise. So long."
In which Sabrina receives money from an unexpected source, and
brings to light how she came to receive it and what she intends
doing when the entire sum is given her.
CHAPTER THREE
"Providence has got to throw something besides 'crap,' some time or
other," remarked Sabrina, the show girl as we complimented her upon her
new gown. "And I guess I am there with rings on my fingers and bells on
my toes, or words to that effect. Take me by the hand and lead me to
some secluded nook and I will unburden my young soul."
When we had seated ourselves and the waiter had retired for the second
time she began:
"You have been hearing me put up a plaintive plea about being on the
rocks. Well, I was. I had everything in hock but my self-respect, and I
had that ready to tuck under my shawl at a moment's notice and rush off
to Uncle Sim's. But never again for muh. I was up in my suite wondering
if I could sign checks at Child's when the landlady shoved a letter
under my door--she could have shoved a dog under just as well as not. I
dive for the epistle, thinking, perhaps, it is some word of
encouragement from Matt Grau. I tear open the envelope and pull out a
letter and out drops a piece of paper that could look like it meant
money. It's a cinch I beat it to the floor. It was a check. I staggered
against the gas stove I was so surprised; then I unfolded it and it was
made out to me. Can you beat that? To me, and in my real name, for one
hundred, count 'em, one hundred cold, hard Clearing House certificates.
The only thing that kept me from having a scene with myself was the fact
that I had drank up all my merry Yuletide gifts. Well, by and by, after
piping off the check, counting it, biting it, smelling it, I had sense
enough to look at the letter. This is going to be a long, sad tale, so
you had better--yes, that's it--a little more of the same. You see, it
was this way.
"Last season when I--thank goodness--when I was with a Broadway
production instead of a road show, a certain party, whom I had met while
out on the one-night stands the season before, came stampeding into town
and it fell upon my fair young shoulders to show him the sights.
Query--Did I show him the sights? Answer--Yes, I did show him the
sights. If there was any place we didn't see it was because you had to
have an introduction to get in.
"Then Edward became inoculated with an idea that it would be a good plan
to consume all the booze on Broadway, thereby preventing others from
living intemperate lives. Such a chance. You know the new tunnel
couldn't hold the reserve supply of liquids that can report for duty at
a minute's notice on the corner of Forty-second and Broadway. The first
time I got hep to those proceedings was when I received the glad tidings
over the phone from a hospital steward that a friend of mine was trying
to bite holes in the detention sheet and shrieking my name.
"I grabbed a book on 'Pink Animals I Have Met' and flew to the rescue.
When I got to the cot there was Edward's cherubic mug peeping out from
under about four miles of nice clean bandages and an attendant sitting
daintily on his chest. When he saw me he calmed down and dismissed the
menagerie for the nonce. 'Dearie,' he said, taking my shrinking little
hand in his, 'it was awful. It's only by mere chance that you find me
custodian of this Reptile Bazar instead of one of these "mangled
remains" things. It was this way. I had been down to the bar lapping up
a few drinks and pretty soon a band comes up the street. I go out to
look it over and there is nothing in sight, so I go back and get Arthur
to mix me up another to see if it won't make me feel better. I drink
that and hear the band again. I run out just in time to see it hiding
behind the post. It's bum harmony at that, so I go upstairs to take a
nap.
"'I'm lying there on the bed when all of a sudden the door opens and in
marches twelve little soldiers, about six inches high, dressed in blue
pants and red coats. They climb and start to pull off a zouave drill on
the foot of the bed. That made me sour, for I don't feel like a military
pageant, so I lift up my foot and kick them out on the floor. The
soldiers don't say a word, but jump up and climb out through the
transom. In about five minutes the door opens and in marches the whole
army, all about six inches high. Gee, there must have been a million of
them, for all I could see was blue pants and red coats. I'm lying there
on the bed, taking it all in, when up rides a dinky little officer on a
horse. He salutes me and I salute him, just to let them know that there
wasn't any hard feeling. Then he says, "I am glad to state that you have
but one life to lose for your country; therefore we are going to shoot
you." Well, you know me, Dearie. I jumped out of the window. The next
time I come out of it here is this guy doing snake charming stunts on my
stomach.'
"Can you beat that for a pipe? I look after this party with all the
loving care of a sister, and thanks to the doctor and a pump we pulled
him through. When he was able to be shipped home I went down to the
train to see him off and as he kissed me goodby he said, 'Don't you
worry, kid, I won't forget this.' I didn't pay any attention to his
chatter, thinking it nothing but balloon juice. But this letter says
that he died about a week ago and left ten thousand to me in such a way
that it won't do his wife no good to yelp. Ten thousand! Gee, ain't that
an awful huge lot of money for one poor little merry-merry to be
burdened with! The lawyers sent that first hundred along to show that
they are not pikers, and said that the rest would be along in a few
days. Gosh! I won't know what to do with it. I can't get that much in my
little lisle thread bank without spoiling the contour of that new gown
effect I am going to be poured into. Clothes, well I should hope so,
dear. When the true meaning of that effusion soaked into my system, the
way I grabbed my hat and took it on the run for the dressmaker's was a
caution to cab horses.
"I'm going to get a bunch of clothes and then slide for home. You know
my father was mayor of Emporia for nearly a whole term, and I can go
right back into society. That is a great burg; if anybody wears anything
but a Mother Hubbard on week days they are doped out as a actress. Sure!
That's the way they know that there's a show in town, that and the band.
That town will have nothing but the best. If a show isn't good enough to
hare a band it might as well cancel. It's a great show town, all right;
sometimes they have two shows there the same week, 'East Lynne' and
something else. The Boston Store has the 'Pilgrim's Progress' on the
recent fiction counter.
"Well, I must rush right along. I've got to go over to some place and
get a mile or two of those puff gags, mine are all moth eaten. I've got
some more things to buy and then I am going around and make faces at all
these theatrical agents. Bye bye."
In which Sabrina receives the balance of the fortune, says
farewell to the hall bed-room, secures more imposing quarters, a
French maid, an automobile and other accessories as befitting
her station.
CHAPTER FOUR
"I've got Adversity laying on her back and purring with Contentment,"
remarked Sabrina the Show Girl, as she stepped out of a taxicab in front
of a cafe, "and I guess she'll stand hitched for a few minutes. Tell my
driver to wait and then come in and have a little liquid nourishment.
This is the only place I can find where one can get any kind of service.
My, ain't I getting fussy? Here 'two weeks ago coffee and butter-cakes
were a banquet. But why dig up the past, and I reiterate the remark,
'Let the dead bury its dead.' If anybody mentions Mink's to me I am
liable to throw a foaming fit and fall in it. Every time I pass a bread
line I am filled with sorrow for the poor unfortunates, while heretofore
I got sore because they had beaten me to it.
"Sure, the lawyer guy kicked in with the balance of the ten thousand,
and I am now busily engaged in putting it where it will do the most
good. Moved? Well, I should hope so, dear. Instead of existing in a
two-by-four hallroom, with an airshaft exposure, where you have to open
the door to think, I am now residing in a real suite. Maybe you think I
don't keep Estelle--that's my maid--on the job. She's the busy
proposition about that dump. As soon as I come out of my beauty sleep in
the morning I ring the bell and in capers Estelle with a dipperful of
chocolate, which I sip while reclining on my couch, and you can take it
from me it's got this stunt of romping about a cold room in a canton
flannel kimona trifling with the affections of a gas stove beat to a
purple pulp.
"Then after reading the morning paper I arise, take a bawth, and Estelle
does my hair. That is, she does part of it. I can't bear any one's teeth
but my own on my Dutch braid. You know some people are sensitive that
a-way. After the hair dressing number I inhale about $4 worth of
breakfast and then lounge about my little nest. I call it my little nest
because it is finished in birdseye maple. I always have eggs for
breakfast, and Estelle puts on the finishing touches with a feather
duster and I boss the job, smoking a cigarette. I always was strong for
having things harmonize. I suppose it is my artistic temperament. I
always drink cordials the same color as my hat. After that everything is
fixed to my entire satisfaction, and I won't stand for cigarette butts
being kicked under the bed, either. I'm that particular. Then about noon
the dressmaker makes her entrance and I pick out my gowns. Clothes! Say,
when I line out of here for that dear Emporia I'll have to buy
twenty-five tickets so as I can get a baggage car free. I'll need it.
From the apparel I am purchasing you'd think I was wardrobe mistress for
a number two 'Talk of New York' company. If I don't make those canned
goods drummers in front of the Palace Hotel think there is something in
town besides a 'Tom' show I hope I never see Broadway again.
"Then along toward afternoon I climb into some chic frock--get
that?--and taxey down here to look things over. Say, maybe you don't
think this butterfly existence is all to the berries. The other evening
I kicked down to a show I once worked in and, believe me, if some of
those dames knew what they looked like from the front they certainly
would rush out and hide in the cow lot.
"Honest, there is one doll who thinks she has got every prize beauty in
the country biting her finger nails with jealousy. Well, she came out,
led out at that. I nearly dropped dead in my seat. You know that I am
not a knocker, and there is nothing I hate worse than to hear one lady
pan another behind her back, so I will merely make this statement. If
this person would stop trying to use up all the number 18 in the block,
would get operated on for knock-knees, have her face changed and stop
trying to be a very dear friend to the whole bald-headed department
during the opening chorus, she'd be all right and might get a job with a
medicine show. I know how she keeps her job all right, all right. I
ain't mentioning any names, but a certain party, old enough to be her
grandfather, had to put money into the show before they would even let
her have her voice tried. I was out to dinner with the same crowd that
she was with the other evening. Arthur and I were sitting at the table
in the restaurant waiting for the rest of the crowd when in she canters,
dressed up regardless like a queen in a book, in a low-neck gag. She run
a bluff as if she just had it made, but if a certain K. & E. wardrobe
mistress ever catches her with it on this party is due to get pinched
for petty larceny. As soon as she spotted me she rushed over and yelped,
'Oh, Sabrina, I'm charmed to see you.' And kissed me--the cat. Then she
said, 'Dearie, I understand you have inherited a fortune.' And raised
her eyebrows just like that. Now I had been kidded enough about that
legacy of mine, and when that doll, that ain't such a muchness herself,
commences to hand out inferences, I naturally lost my goat, but
remembering that I am now a lady I let go of my hatpin and merely
remarked, 'Yes, but I came by it honestly, and I can safely say that I
am no Foxy Grandpa's fair-haired child.'
"That terse remark made her sit up and take notice, for she had been
telling one of the members of the party who she was trying to make a hit
with that she got her money from her large estates in England. The only
thing she knows about England she learned at a Burton Holmes lecture
that she got into on a ticket she found in the subway.
"The gentlemen of the party called time and we sat down to the table.
She started putting on airs and telling what she knew about the Thaw
trial, so to let her know that I was right there I passed out this one,
'It's a cinch if anybody did any shooting to save your life he'll get
the chair the first throw out of the box, and the jury won't be out any
longer than it takes to get their hats, either.' Say, if she had had a
gun she'd have shot me. One of the gentlemen remarked to me, 'You don't
care for this young lady, do you?' I said, 'Sure, I like her. I like her
about as much as Bingham likes Jerome.'
"This female party started to drinking champagne as if it were suds, so
naturally it wasn't long before she got a snootful, and one of these
crying kind, all the party began to kid her until at last she sobbed,
'Well, there is always one place I can go to where I am welcome.' One of
the guys said, 'Yes, dearie, I know it, but it is after 1 o'clock now
and that place is closed.' Then little Bright Eyes beat it and we all
had a real nice evening after that. Oh! She's a smooth one, all right;
she nearly made me lose my job once if it hadn't been that the stage
manager was carrying my suitcase I would have been decorated with my
little two weeks out in the wilds somewhere. You see it was this way: We
had a tree, not the one Arthur owned, but another, and one of the
comedians had to stand inside of it for about fifteen minutes before he
could make his entrance--laughing number--this was only a dinky little
place and only had one small airhole. Well, this foxy dame stuffed this
airhole full of limberger cheese, so when it came time for his entrance
instead of coming forth blithe and gay as per book, the comedian came
out looking as if he had apoplexy, the same naturally causing the
merry-merry to giggle ad lib. Did you ever see a wild fish? Honest, when
that man came off I thought he was going to commit murder; what he said
on the subject is not for me to repeat. Right in the middle of the
harangue this dame remarks, 'I think it was Sabrina.'
"The next think she thunk was to wonder who let go of the asbestos
curtain, for I happened to overhear that 'aside' and bounced a
stage-brace on her think tank. If she had gone on again that night it
would have been in a wheeled chair. Another stunt she did was to put
lampblack all over the tenor's glove and he wiped it off on the prima's
shoulders so she looked like a zebra in a bathing suit, and every time
she would tell the firemen when the chorus men were getting fresh
courage by smoking cigarettes in their dressing rooms, but that is all
over now and my stage career is ended until I spend all this surplus
cash. I take it on the run for that dear Kansas tomorrow, so I think I
will go and see if Estelle has finished packing. Try and be good while I
am gone, and if anything happens for goodness sake wire me, for out in
that neck of the woods even paying for telegrams from New York is a
pleasure. Au revoir."
In which Sabrina makes a visit to her parents in Emporia,
returns after but a brief stay and chronicles some of the events
that transpired while in the city of her birth.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Kill the prodigal, the calf has returned!" cried Sabrina the Show Girl,
as her taxicab drew up to where we were standing.
"Thought you were in Emporia!" we exclaimed in surprise.
"I was. I came; I saw; I conquered. Or whatever whoever said it, did.
Jump in and I'll tell you all about it. Fine business. I had more
exciting events than ever appeared before under one canvas. But never
again. You know when I started about ten days ago? Trouble? Why, I had
more trouble than a manager with nine stars and one good dressing room.
And I had to leave Estelle, my maid, here at that. I tried to get a
stateroom, but nothing doing, so me for a berth with the common herd.
Train going along fine, about 3 in the morning me pounding my fair young
ear in lower six, when all of a sudden. Biff! Mr. Engine slaps a cow in
the back and the whole works deserts the track and the caboose I'm in
slides over the bank, turns over on her side and dies, lower six at the
bottom. I get handed the following--one suitcase, two pairs of shoes and
a fat hardware salesman from upper five. Not forgetting my womanly
rights I turn loose a rebel yell and start to climb out of the opposite
window with the kind assistance of the arm of the berth, the face of the
fat salesman and a broken window, appearing as the Pink Pajama Girl on
the side of the car that was at that time understudying the roof.
"When I got out I turned loose a couple more whoops on the clear morning
air just to let them know that I was still on the job, and took a casual
survey of the disaster. Naturally our car was the goat and the only one
that had gone wrong. The fat salesman does the appearing act next,
dragging his suitcase; waived formality and asked me if I would have a
drink. Me for the drink, and then I got him to climb back down and
rescue the rest of my apparel, and I dressed standing up there on the
side of the car, much to the edification of the train crew that were not
busily engaged in assuring the other dames in the car that they were not
dead. By and by along comes another train, and they load us all in and
we get to Chicago only about four hours late. Me being that fatigued I
rushed right up to the Sherman House, but there wasn't a room vacant on
the top floor, so I knew I would not feel at home there, so I go
capering over to the Annex.
"Gee, but that Chicago is a bum town, and yet in Emporia they look upon
it as a Mecca of pleasure. The only pleasure I ever got there was trying
to analyze the smells from the stock yards. They don't eat anything in
Chicago but chop suey. Did you ever shoot any of that junk into your
system? Them can have it that likes it; but never again for muh. You get
it in a little dish, and the blooming stuff smells as if it was some
relation to a poultice; you eat it and then go home and chew all the
enamel off the bed. No, I don't know what it is made of; if I did I
wouldn't eat it. That's the only thing Chicago is good for, chop suey
and smells. When they get through talking about the World's Fair perhaps
they will think up some new form of amusement. I met a wop in Chicago,
one of these real romantic kind that only grow there. I was seated in a
secluded corner of the ladies' waiting room of the Annex, and he came up
and asked me if I didn't want to step in the Pompeian room and hear the
waters of the fountain lapping up against the marble. I told him I much
preferred to be up against a bottle of wine and do the lapping myself.
He, with that true Chicago gallantry, said, 'Excuse me first, I want to
'phone a friend.'
"I'm glad I didn't hold my breath while he was gone. I think he must
have taken a surface car for Oak Park. Those Chicago rum-dums are the
true sports, all right, all right. If necessity compels them to buy
anything stronger than beer they commence to look sassy at the waiter
and talk loud. Chicago is sure rightly named when they call it the Windy
City. You just ought to have heard the line of jolly some of those boys
tried to hand out to me. To me, mind you, to me! They must have thought
that I was some unsophisticated young ingenue that never had been
further away from State street than an occasional excursion across the
lake to St. Joe.
"I sloshed around town for a couple of days just to give those people a
change from the usual run of Randolph street romps, then I hit the
hummer for bleeding Kansas and Emporia.