Into the city during the day,
Back to the country at eventide,
Courting the charm of the simple way,
Casting the tumult of greed aside.
"He is the happiest man who best appreciates his happiness. Happiness
comes to him who does not seek it."
"Well, you've got there. I was opposed to your goin' into the minstrel
business. It's not good to argue agin anything a young man sets his mind
on. I figured if you got knocked out, you'd be able to come back agin.
I'd rather seed you in the circus business, but say, boy, if this show
of yours ain't a Jim Dandy. Are you making any money?"
"Well, I have made money, Uncle Henry, but I'm investing it in my
business as fast as I earn it. You see the minstrel business is
changing. The basis of minstrelsy will always be that which it is and
has been, but you can't hand them the same things they've been accepting
the past forty years and expect them to enjoy and buy it. The farce
comedy, the musical show are virtually minstrel shows. Based upon music
and dancing, they produce about the same stuff the minstrels do."
"Well Alfred, we hear a great deal about the old black-face minstrels.
Some people say they like them best."
"That's true, Uncle Henry. You can't gainsay it. Some people like the
old-fashioned cooking the best. But the public, the majority demand
something different. Even if they eat the same sort of food they ate
when younger, they demand it be served differently. Let me call your
attention to this fact: Every manager that has endeavored to present an
old-time, black-face minstrel show in late years has failed. The
old-time minstrel show, like the one-ring circus, is pleasant to dream
of, pleasant to talk of, but not profitable to present. Two friends were
responsible for my decision to put on a simon-pure, old-time minstrel
show. I engaged the best talent procurable, costumed the show in
conformity with the ideas of my friends. It was the least profitable of
any season since my first year; or it would have been had I continued. I
changed my entire show in the middle of the season, going back to the
black-face comedians, white-face singers.
"The minstrels in all climes have sung their songs of love and war. Even
in the days of the ancients there were minstrels who sang the news of
the times to the gaping multitudes in the streets and market places. In
fact, David, with his harp of a thousand strings, whose voice charmed
King Saul and his court, was the first minstrel. I can fully understand
why a minstrel, an American minstrel, singing a plantation melody to his
dusky dulcinea, should have a blackened face, but why a man blackened as
a negro should sing of 'My Sister's Golden Hair,' or 'Mother's Eyes of
Blue,' is too incongruous for even argument's sake."
[Illustration: David, the First Minstrel]
"Well, Alfred, how is it the other managers do not adopt the style of
your entertainment."
"Uncle Henry, I am not my brother's keeper. I had opposition with one of
those so-called old time minstrel shows a short time ago. Our company
was making money every night. They were barely paying expenses. And yet
the greater part of their press work was devoted to informing the public
that we were not genuine minstrels, our singers wore white wigs, flesh
colored stockings and satin suits. They were really advertising one of
the attractions of our exhibition. We copied that notice and had it sent
broadcast over the sections where the companies conflicted. I watched
the press closely and but one paper that came under my observation
endorsed their idea."
"Now, Alfred, let me tell you something. I've had all I wanted to eat
and drink; I've worn good clothes; I've helped the poor; I've kept my
family right; and I've seen enough of this world to convince me the only
way to have money to burn is not to burn it. To have money to spend when
you are old, is to save it while you're young. I was so poor when I was
young, I had my lesson. Say, son, it's a sad thing to be poor when
you're young, not wanted in your brother's home. But it's dreadful to be
poor when you are old and not wanted anywhere. You can't make a living.
You are dependent upon charity. Now don't fool yourself and say with
your income you can't save. If you can live you can save. George M.
Pullman, Marshall Field, John D. Rockefeller, and a thousand others
began saving on less than your income. Now, Alfred, don't think because
the fool in your business has spent money recklessly, don't think that's
an excuse for you to spend. I know minstrel people. I know them
backwards. Don't be like them. The only things to do in this world, day
after day, are the things you ought to do. You can't do too much for
others, but don't depend upon them to do for you. A poor, old man is the
saddest sight on earth."
"It's true I felt mighty sore that my folks threw me on the world so
young. But you bet I am proud of the fact that I can buy and sell the
whole kit of them. I help them, I give them, I don't begrudge it to
them; but, while I can't entirely forget the bitterness of those boyhood
days, I can't help but feel a bit proud that I am independent of them in
my old days. And to hear some of them talk, you'd think they made me.
Well, they did, but they didn't intend to. While they were sitting
around praying for prosperity, I was sweating. Sweating, it's a good
thing. It takes all the bad diseases out of you and a good deal of the
cussedness. Say, Alfred, you never knowed a skin-flint that sweat.
Stingy men never sweat. I admire all good people but I would rather see
a man give another a meal, than talk over his victuals and eat them
alone when he knows there's someone next door hungry. Did you ever
notice when a man thinks he's a genius he lets his hair grow long and
when a woman gets out of her place, to be something she oughtn't to be,
she cuts her hair short. Every crank puts some kind of a brand on
themselves. You don't have to talk to them to find out what they are.
"I sold whiskey when I was in the wholesale grocery business. Everybody
in my line sold it. You remember the best stores in Columbus sold it.
You couldn't hold a first-class trade if you didn't sell it. I never
sold it to people who had no shoes. I never sold it to young men nor to
old men in their dotage. There was never preacher came to me to talk
religion or anything else while I was selling whiskey. But as soon as I
sold out the whiskey business, they began runnin' after me. One of them
kept a-comin' and a-comin'. He kept tellin' me how to live, how to spend
the rest of my days. Get a library. A library was the greatest thing a
man could have. It kept your mind at rest; you could seek refuge in your
library at any time when in trouble. I promised him to get a library. I
had one built expressly. I had two barrels of Old Crow whiskey that I
kept when I sold the store. I filled a sufficient number of quart
bottles to fill the shelves of the library, labeled the bottles, and
waited for the next visit of the gentleman who induced me to invest in a
library. He congratulated me on taking his advice. I told him I never
had any learning to speak of; when I should have been at school I had to
be at work; perhaps I should have consulted him about stocking the
library. He expressed a desire to examine it. When I threw the doors
open and the rows of bottles of Old Crow came into his view, he never
flinched. I told Jim if he fainted to be handy with a pail of water. But
he never backed off. He put his glasses on his nose, read the labels and
'lowed while my library was large it was not greatly diversified.
Thereafter the good man was more deeply interested in me than ever
before. At first he called once a day. It was not long until he called
three times a day regularly."
[Illustration: Uncle Henry's Library]
Jim describes the scene thusly: "Uncle Henry, lolling in the big, easy
chair, sleepily. Enter the gentleman who recommended the library. 'Good
morning, Brother Hunt, I hope you are feeling well'; Uncle Henry, with
eyes half-closed, never waited to hear more. He languidly motioned
towards the sideboard, closed his eyes, looked the other way. Uncle
Henry's idea of a gentleman was one who turned his back while you were
pouring out your liquor."
Uncle Henry was known to every showman in America. He maintained a field
whereon the circuses pitched their tents. He owned the billboards. No
circus visited Burlington that did not find him an interested friend.
I have heard that Uncle Henry could drive a good bargain in a trade. I
never knew him as a buyer or a seller. I only knew him as one who knew
how to give. I only knew him as one who found it more blessed to give
than receive.
His qualities of good more than overbalanced his imperfections. His was
a character that left its impress on the community in which he was
known. He was loved by those who were welcomed in his hospitable home.
There have been men of more renown than the hardy old blacksmith, who,
from a barefooted boy made his way without education or friends, and
that he was influenced in his feelings by his early hardships was only
the man that was in him, over-balancing the better nature of one who,
when a friend was a friend, who, when against you, was always in the
open. He was as honest in his dislikes as he was in his admirations.
When the sands of his life were ebbing fast on that Sunday afternoon in
midsummer, the last of earth, the last sounds that fell upon the ears of
Uncle Henry were the rumbling of the wheels of a circus moving over the
paved streets from the train to the show grounds.
* * * * *
They have got a newspaper fixed and the worst roast ever read
published today. Mailed copy. If you want a good lawyer, advise.