JOSEPHINE HALL
Josephine Hall soared into a prominence that she had not before enjoyed,
on the screechy strains of "Mary Jane's Top Note" in "The Girl from
Paris" during the season of 1897-98. Previous to that, however, she had
passed through a varied theatrical experience. She was born in
Greenwich, Rhode Island, and came of a very well-known family. Like many
others, she acquired her first taste for the stage by appearing in
amateur theatricals. The story is that she ran away from home to become
an actress, and journeyed to Providence, where she made it known at the
stage door of one of the theatres that she was going to win fame by
treading the boards, or die in the attempt. She was plain "Jo" Hall
when she made her professional debut as Eulalie in "Evangeline" at the
Fourteenth Street Theatre, New York, under the management of Edward E.
Rice.
After this initial appearance in extravaganza, she forsook the musical
stage entirely until she succeeded Paula Edwardes in the title role of
"Mam'selle 'Awkins," although in the farces with which she was
identified for a number of seasons, she usually was given a chance to
introduce one or more comic songs. After she left Mr. Rice, she became a
member of Eben Plympton's "Jack" company. Then she came under Charles
Frohman's management, and was consistently successful in such parts as
Evangeline in "All the Comforts of Home," Jennie Buckthorne in
"Shenandoah," and Katherine Ten Broeck Lawrence in "Aristocracy." The
last two plays, it will be remembered, were by Bronson Howard, and he
once took occasion to remark that Miss Hall came nearer meeting his
ideal of the two characters she impersonated than any other actress on
the stage.
Then came her big hit in "The Girl from Paris," in which she played the
character part of Ruth, the slavey, and sang the ludicrous "Mary Jane's
Top Note." How she happened to hit upon this fantastic conception, she
once related as follows:--
"I felt that the song would not be a success unless I did something out
of the ordinary. The context of the song indicated a high note, which
was not given in London, so I conceived the notion of giving a high
screech at the climax, which proved to be just what it needed. It was a
difficult song to render effectively, as it had to be spoken almost
entirely; and as I have a very good ear for music, I found it difficult
to keep from singing. The high note had to be off key to make it more
ridiculous. I couldn't have sung the song for any length of time, as
the strain would have injured my speaking voice."
During the first half of the season of 1899-1900, Miss Hall was the
Praline in "The Girl from Maxim's,"--a French farce, undeniably dirty,
but funny to those not saturated to the point of boredom with the
foreign variety of low comedy, which has all the marks of being
manufactured to order. It is farce which drives the spectator
breathlessly along the road of hilarity by means of a rapidly moving
series of mechanically conceived situations. "The Girl from Maxim's" was
bluntly suggestive and crudely salacious, as are all these off-color
French farces which are turned into English, but it was also bright and
ingenious in its machine-like way, and it was in addition very well
acted.
Whatever patronage "The Girl from Maxim's" gained outside of New
York--and it made money, so I have understood, both in Boston and
Philadelphia--was given it, not because it was audacious, but solely on
its merits as an entertainment. It has been shown time and time again
that a farce, which is only salacious and nothing more, cannot live on
the road. "The Turtle," which was boomed as the smuttiest thing that
ever was, but which was also stupid and inane, never earned a dollar
outside of New York. "Mlle. Fifi," which was both dirty and boresome,
had a similar experience. "The Cuckoo," whose suggestiveness was much
exploited, but whose only merits were an exceedingly smart last act and
a very fine cast, was only mildly patronized. On the other hand,
"Because She Loved Him So," a delightful farce and innocent enough for
Sunday-school presentation, enjoyed two seasons of prosperity and kept
two different companies of players employed. "At the White Horse
Tavern," another fresh and unsmirched farce, also had a prosperous run.
No, whatever success attended "The Girl from Maxim's" was rather in
spite of, instead of traceable to, its filth. It had merit as a
mirth-maker. Its spirit was unflagging, its ingenuity amazing, and its
character studies capable. There was not a suspicion of a drag until a
few minutes before the final curtain, when the indefatigable author,
George Feydeau, seemed suddenly to lose his breath.
Josephine Hall's Praline, with all her doubtful morals and her
questionable freedom of speech and action, was an exceedingly attractive
young woman. She bubbled with merriment, and never for a moment was she
to the slightest extent worried even in the midst of the most
bewildering complications. Her unfailing good humor was really the
backbone of the play.
Indeed, the faculty of making black appear white seems to be something
of a specialty with Miss Hall, who has exuberance of spirits without
vulgarity or coarseness, and whose unconventionality has coupled with it
refinement and inherent delicacy. Her jollity is whole-souled without
harshness. Hers is the witchery of personality joined to an art that is
authoritative and complete in its own sphere.
"Mam'selle 'Awkins" was an indifferent conglomeration of old stage jokes
and tinkling music. That it should have succeeded at all was an odd
chance, but that it should have entertained Philadelphia for so many
weeks was indeed a mystery. Honorah 'Awkins was a Cockney, who, with a
fortune acquired in the soap trade, was on the hunt for a titled
husband. This was the plot. The part of Honorah was created by Paula
Edwardes, who took her work rather seriously and went in for a touch of
artistic character drawing. Miss Hall did not trouble herself much about
imitating nature. She relied wholly on her ability to give her audience
a good time. She played Mam'selle 'Awkins in a dazzling red wig and a
complexion that suggested an hour or two over the kitchen stove, or
better still, considering the antecedents of the fair Honorah, over the
scrubbing board. Neither did Miss Hall go very heavily into the Cockney;
she suggested rather than reproduced, and then fell back on her powers
as a fun-maker to win out with her audiences.
For her, this method filled the bill perfectly. Of course, we knew from
previous experience that Miss Hall was a capable actress in the
hurricane variety of farce, but she did not draw heavily on that side of
her artistic equipment in "Mam'selle 'Awkins." She went in head over
heels to be as entertaining as possible with the materials at
hand,--which, it must be confessed, were not over abundant--and with
whatever else she herself could devise. She walked the tight-rope of
vulgarity with marvellous expertness, and because she was Josie Hall,
one laughed instead of turning up his nose.
In spite of the fact that she has been continually called upon to play
all sorts of impossible foreigners, Miss Hall's humor is essentially the
humor of the average American. It is fun straight out from the shoulder
with the laugh just enough hidden to make it all the more enjoyable when
it is discovered. It is not the heavy punning variety so mysteriously
popular with the Englishman, nor the _double entendre_ of the Frenchman.
Though she may act Cockneys and French grisettes to the end of the
chapter, Miss Hall will always be what she was born,--a jolly American
girl. And this suggests a brilliant idea,--one that may be novel to
those who up to date have had her artistic fate in their hands. Why not
give Miss Hall a chance to play the girl next door? Why scour Europe for
a human specimen which only warps a personality that belongs right here
at home? Try her once in a character--farcical naturally--that has some
native stuff in it. Let her show us a girl whom we know first-hand as
the genuine article. I think that the result would be a surprise for
somebody.