"There's nothing to be got nowadays unless thou can'st fish for it."
--PERICLES PRINCE OF TYRE.
The following day was a busy one in thought and action. Notwithstanding
the disposition and energy of the Gotown proprietor in getting the
Academy of Music ready, there were many things to be considered apart
from the mere putting up of the structure itself. And these were as
necessary as the house proper. In the first place, there was not a
stitch of canvas prepared for the scenery; the lighting of the house had
to be considered, and the arrangements for the seating had not been
mentioned. These were some of the perplexities that confronted Handy.
The first thing he did to prepare himself for the work before him was to
take a bath. He was a great believer in hygiene, and cold water for
bathing purposes he considered the best of medicines. The bath taken, he
sat down to a good plain and substantial meal, with an appetite to enjoy
it. Then, after carefully loading his briarwood, he summoned his man
Friday for consultation.
"Now, then, Smith, we have some work ahead this trip, I can tell you,
and no mistake; and I hardly know where to begin. Anyhow, call a
rehearsal for one o'clock."
"A what! A rehearsal?" replied Smith, amazed. "A rehearsal--rehearsal of
what, and may I inquire where?"
"That's so," said Handy thoughtfully. "That's so. Never mind putting up
the call, or better still, go and see the members of the company and
tell them to be ready for the call. I'll decide later what I want them
to do."
The next move of the veteran was to call on the manager of the Weston
Theatre to see if he could have the use of the stage for the afternoon.
He found he could not, as the company then playing there wanted it for
the rehearsal of a new play they had in rehearsal. If the next day would
suit, the stage was at his disposal. This was an agreeable surprise to
Handy. It suited him much better, as it gave him a little more time to
think over the bill he should present at Gotown. He hastened to the
hotel and instructed Smith to call the people for rehearsal at the
Weston Theatre at eleven o'clock next forenoon.
This piece of business off his mind, he sought his partner in the Gotown
venture, to ascertain about the Handel and Hayden Philharmonic. Weston
had just returned from a visit to Herr Anton Wagner, the leader and
president of the society.
"I have just parted with the boss of the spielers," said Weston, "and I
am a bit disappointed. I don't think we can get them to do the street
parade stunt, but for the night job they will be all O. K."
"What do you mean by the street parade stunt?" inquired Handy, in some
surprise. "That's a new one on me."
"Well, I thought it would be a great scheme if we could get the Phillies
to get out their wind instruments and play a few tunes through the main
street from the station up to the new Academy the afternoon of the show.
You know I have a couple of dozen army overcoats in the storeroom. The
spielers could wear them. Then when they got to the Academy they could
shed their street armor, hide their wind instruments, and start in on
the string instruments in their glad rags."
Handy smiled, and asked: "How did you succeed?"
"Couldn't work the street racket."
"Why?"
"Because the men had to work at their regular jobs. Wagner is a
shoemaker. He works the trombone in the streets and the bull fiddle
under cover. The man that works the cornet in the outside operates the
fiddle on the inside, and he's a dandy at it. He's a tailor, and a good
one. He made the coat that's on my back; the man that----"
"Hold on. That's enough!" broke in Handy. "I'm just as well pleased you
didn't get them to do that street stunt. But you are sure there will be
no disappointment for the night's performance?"
"Sure. They are all anxious to go. But Herr Wagner wants his name to be
mentioned on the bills as leader and president of the Handel and Hayden
Philharmonic Society."
"All right. He will have a line on the bills."
"He gave me a pointer, too, and asked me to speak to you about it."
"What is it?"
"The man that works the fiddle,--Wagner calls him his first violin,--is
an Irishman. His name is Nick Cullen in the shop, but when he tackles
the fiddle in public he is known as Signor Nicola Collenso. If you give
him a place on the programme you can put him down for a violin solo on
the stage."
"Tell him to meet me to-morrow on the stage of the theatre at twelve."
"Good! Nick will be tickled to death."
"Now, then, old man, we're all right so far as the entertainment is
concerned. That don't bother me a little bit. But the Gotown Academy
sits heavily on my mind, and all on account of minor considerations and
the shortness of time in the way of lighting, tickets, seats for the
audience and scenery. We can't act in the dark, the people who pay for
reserved seats won't care for standing two or three hours, no matter how
good our bill of fare is, and there ought to be something in the way of
scenery, else those who pay their good coin may kick. Do I make myself
quite plain?"
"Very. And have we to supply all these?"
"You bet! Who else is going to do it? This Gotown proposition was yours.
I am willing to do all I can. This is Wednesday. There's no time to
waste."
"So am I willing. But you are bossing the job. Tell me what you want me
to do and I'll do it."
"Then take the next train for Gotown; see McGowan, go with him to the
printers at once and get out the tickets, so many at one dollar, so many
at seventy-five cents, the rest at fifty and on all of these have
reserved seats in big type. You can then have as many as you think we
need for general admission. Have no reserved seats printed on them. I
will give you the copy for the printer before you go. When does the
train start?"
"About half hour from now."
"Find out from McGowan all about the lighting of the place, and what
arrangements he has made about seating the crowd; and be sure you
ascertain if there is any danger of the house not being ready for us.
You know we have no written or regular contract, as all well regulated
companies like ours should have. If any other little thing occurs to me
I'll wire you, and if anything really important takes place up there
that won't hold over until you get back, wire me. Here's the copy for
the tickets. Have them printed at once. Get the different priced tickets
on different colored cards. Red, white, and blue--and green. Now, then,
go, and good speed and good luck."
On the second visit to the theatre Handy was pleased to notice that
everything was arranged for him to have the use of the stage next day.
Though the manager was perfectly agreeable about it, he was noticeably
worried about something, and Handy recognized it at once. Like Gilbert's
policeman, the manager's life at times is not a happy one.
"You seem to be put out about something, Governor?" All managers of
theatres as a rule are governors, through courtesy, and they like to be
so addressed.
"I am. Say, let me ask you a question. Did you ever have a date broken
on you at short notice?"
"Did I?" exclaimed Handy, with a smile. "Disappointments and I are old
acquaintances."
"You can then realize my feelings. The last three days of next week in
the theatre are open, and this is the second troupe that broke with me,
and next Thursday is a holiday. Like a fool, I made no effort to fill
the first part of the week, relying on the holiday night, Friday and
Saturday's two performances to make up the difference. Isn't that
tough?"
"That is tough," answered Handy sympathetically. "That is pretty hard.
Why don't you wire----"
"Oh, don't talk to me about wiring or telegraphing or mailing. I have
been doing that for nearly a week, until I am nearly gone daft. Of
course I could get the regular fake, or barn-stormers or turkey
companies--you know 'em--but none of 'em for me. I want companies I know
something about."
"Quite right. People you can rely on," continued Handy. "You are in a
pretty bad fix, and if I can help you out in any way I'll be only too
happy to do so. To be frank with you, this Gotown venture has been
worrying me more than I care to admit. You know we open the new Academy
of Music there Saturday night, and the reason the proprietor is in such
haste to do so on that date is because Saturday is the anniversary of
the founding of the town."
"I don't see there's anything in that to worry you. You're dead sure to
get the crowd."
"Oh, that's all right! But then I am awfully afraid the scenery won't be
ready. It was ordered only a short time ago. The owner of the theatre
knows nothing about our business and left it until, I am afraid, it's
too late. So now you can see the fix I am in."
"That's too bad, too bad! Where do you play after leaving Gotown?"
"Oh, after Gotown, eh?" and Handy became thoughtful and silent for a
moment, and then slowly and deliberately explained: "Oh, after Gotown we
are going to lay off for a week and add three or four new members to our
company. They are not exactly new, for they were with us before, and are
all good, reliable people and are up in the stage business of 'Down on
the Old Farm,' a rattling good piece."
It might as well be explained now, as later, that up to the time that
the Weston manager made known his troubles and his open dates Handy had
not the slightest thought of "Down on the Old Farm," and did not have a
date after Gotown.
"Say, Mr. Handy, how large is the stage of the new Gotown house?"
"Well," said Handy, after casting his eyes meaningly around the stage,
"I should say that it is about the size of this one. Perhaps a little
deeper." He had, of course, never been inside of the Gotown
establishment--it being yet unbuilt.
"Now, then, I tell you what I'll do. I can help you and you in turn can
assist me. I have no attraction here for Saturday night. You can
therefore make use of what scenery you require, under the circumstances,
without the drop curtain; but I have a first-rate green baize in the
storeroom and I will loan all of it to you. My property room is well
stocked, and you can have the use of the props. Moreover, I'll send my
stage manager up to Gotown to help you--on one condition."
"Name it, Governor."
"That you will fill my dates of three nights of next week with 'Down on
the Old Farm' in this theatre."
Handy was dumbfounded at the proposition. It seemed almost like a
glimpse of heaven. He was almost overpowered, and in a somewhat
hesitating manner replied: "It is very kind of you, Governor, but I
cannot give you an entirely decisive answer just now; but this, I assure
you, you may make your mind easy. I must, if only for courtesy sake,
consult my partner, who is now in Gotown. Besides, I must see the Gotown
manager. I may be magnifying the disappointment about the scenery. The
kindness of your offer and your generosity in putting your scenery at my
disposal appeals to my heart. I think I can give you an assurance that
your date will be filled for the last three nights of next week with
'Down on the Old Farm.'"
"I can rely on your word?"
"Here's my hand. The usual terms, I suppose?"
"I'll go ten per cent better."
"Get out your printing at once for 'The Old Farm,' and make all
necessary arrangements. I'll be off to Gotown at once. I'll run down and
send my man up to get the scenery ready for Gotown to-morrow afternoon."
Handy made hasty steps down to the hotel, consulted with Smith, and
instructed him to go up to the theatre and take a look over the scenery
and props.
"Our end of the work here is all right, Smith, my boy, but I am a bit
nervous about the Gotown lay-out. Not that I doubt Mr. McGowan's
intentions, but I am afraid he has bitten off more than he can chew.
However, there's no need in bidding the devil good-morrow till you're up
foreninst him, is there?" Then slapping Smith heartily on the back he
cried: "And we are all right for next week, too. We play the old
stand-by 'Down on the Old Farm' at the Weston the last three nights.
Come down with me to the station and I'll tell you more. I am off for
Gotown. Will see you to-night, if I can; but if not, I will be with you
the first thing in the morning. There's no time to lose."