The Mormons and the Theatre; or, The History of Theatricals in Utah

by John S. Lindsay

CHAPTER IX.

SEASON OF '66-'67.

An Interesting Prayer Meeting.

Julia Dean Hayne's final appearance closed the fourth season of the
Salt Lake Theatre, counting the opening one which only lasted from
March 8th, '62, to the end of April, about eight weeks, the Irwin
season of '63 and '64, the Pauncefort season of '64 and '65, and the
Julia Dean Hayne season of '65 and '66.

Up to this time the only compensation the stock company received was a pro rata dividend of the benefits given at the end of each season—no one had been put on a salary. The stars, of course, got good liberal percentages or salaries, but even the leading people of the stock company realized but a very meager compensation from the two performances that were gotten up as benefits, one for the ladies of the company and the other for the gentlemen—the two nights' receipts were aggregated and divided up among the company according to their respective merits or worth to the management. These two benefit performances alone probably aggregated twenty-five hundred dollars, which, divided up among about thirty performers, actors and musicians, did not prove satisfactory to a number of the company—more especially some of the orchestra. As a consequence, the ensuing season approaching, the salary question came to the front again very strongly, and the "management" found a well-grounded reluctance on the part of the company to enter upon a new season's work without a certain and satisfactory compensation. This feeling was even stronger among the orchestra than among the stage players, a number of them being quite outspoken in their sentiment: "No pay, no play." The principal agitator among the musicians was Mark Croxall, the brilliant young cornetist recently from England. Mark could not see the propriety or consistency of playing to help pay for the theatre. He had not been used to that kind of thing in England, and although he had been playing but a very short time as compared with the majority, both of the orchestra and the dramatic company, he vowed he would play no longer without a stipulated salary. This, of course, aroused all the others to a certain show of opposition. The leader of the orchestra, Prof. Thomas, or "Charlie," as he was affectionately called by his familiars, was probably as dissatisfied with the existing regime as Croxall or David Evans, the second violin, who was another Britisher of recent importation and quite pronounced in his views about the way the theatre should be run. Prof. Thomas was not of the stuff that kickers are made of, and could doubtless have been managed with the majority of his orchestra had it not been for the recalcitrant Croxall, and the equally pugnacious Evans. The dissatisfaction spread rapidly and alarmingly to the management, until the entire dramatic company as well as the orchestra, was in a state of semi-rebellion. All the actors and most of the musicians had other occupations, as I have stated in a former chapter, and now the number of performances and rehearsals had increased their work to such an extent they could not see how they could give satisfaction to their various employers and keep up their work at the theatre too. Some of these declared it had to be one thing or the other, the theatre now demanded the greater part of their time, and the employers had in several instances intimated that they would have to give up the theatre or be replaced in their employ by others. Mr. David McKenzie, the leading man of the company, held a clerkship in President Young's or the Church office; "Joe" Simmons, our juvenile man, and Horace Whitney, the "old man" in the company, also held clerkships in the same office; Mr. W. C. Dunbar, the Irish comedian, was a clerk in the "tithing office," so their time went on whether they were working in the "Church offices" or at the theatre; of course all their night work at the theatre was extra work, but the day time they put in at the theatre they were not docked for at the office; but with the other leading members of the company it was quite different; the hours they spent at the theatre in the day time was a positive loss to them. Phil Margetts was a blacksmith, Lindsay and Hardie were carpenters, Evans and Kelly were printers, and so on. So that several hours each day spent in rehearsal meant a heavy tax when at the end of each week they were docked for time lost, so there was a committee appointed to wait upon the managers, Clawson and Caine, and present the situation. The managers being only employees of Brigham Young and not proprietors or lessees, passed the company's grievance up to their chief. The managers saw plainly that a crisis had come, and a new departure must be made. "The President," accustomed to having things his own way, and with confidence in his influence, thought he could effect a compromise, or adjust the matter without much trouble or cost, so in pursuance of this idea a notice was posted for all the company and orchestra to assemble in the Green Room of the theatre on a certain evening to consider the question of salary. There was no tardiness on that occasion, even "Jim" Hardie, notorious for being tardy, was on time. Every employee of the theatre was there from the managers to the night-watchman. The orchestra was in full force, and the ladies of the company, even to the smallest utility, were there, all inspired with the hope of being put upon the theatre salary list. The Green Room was found to be too small to accommodate all the company, so the meeting was shifted to the stage, which afforded the necessary room. President Young called the meeting to order, and requested the company to join him in prayer. It is customary in the Mormon Church to open all meetings with prayer, even political ones where those present are all of the household of faith. Brigham offered up a fervent prayer, asking the blessing of the Almighty upon that meeting, and each and every one present, that they might all see with an eye single to the glory of God, and the building up of his Kingdom here on the earth. The prayer over, the President arose and in a brief but very adroit speech, told the object he had in view in building the theatre, the recreation and amusement of the people, thanked those who had contributed to that end, whether as actors or musicians, told them that they were missionaries as much as if they were called to go out into the world and preach the gospel, and the Lord would bless their efforts just as much if they performed their parts in the same spirit. He understood there was some dissatisfaction, however, and some of the brethren thought it was too much of a tax upon their time to continue to do this without proper compensation. He called on the brethren to state their feelings in regard to this question that he might judge what was best to do in the matter. It seemed as if the prayer and speech had almost made them forget that they had any cause or grievance to present, or it had blunted the edge of their courage. Every one was expecting to see Mark Croxall, the principal agitator, get up and make a statement in behalf of himself and the orchestra; but Mark's courage, like that of many another agitator, seemed to have sunk into his boots, when the ordeal came; he opened not his mouth. So the second violinist, David Evans, who was a shoemaker by trade and a cripple from birth, pulled himself to a standing position by the aid of his crutches and spoke to the question. He told how hard he had to work, and what a loss of time the rehearsals and plays occasioned him; being up so much at nights, he could not get up very early in the morning—and could not but lose several hours every day. Besides, he said he did not think it right and just, when the theatre was taking in such large sums of money at every performance, that those who furnished the entertainment, whether in the art of music or the drama, should be expected to continue to do it gratuitously. It was a bold, fearless, manly speech and coming from a man who was obliged to sling himself along through life on a pair of crutches, and a recent comer from the old country, it sent a thrill of astonishment through the company and fired some of the others with a spark of courage, too. Mr. Phil Margetts, the leading comedian, arose and made an explanation of his case; then a number of the other fellows followed suit. A sort of "no pay, no play" sentiment pervaded the entire company. President Young saw here an end of the old method; he discovered that a new deal would have to be made with his actors if he wanted to continue in the amusement business, so he tried an expedient. He was evidently a little irritated at Evans, the crippled shoemaker, who had presumed to take the initiative in the affair and express his views so fearlessly, inspiring the others with a little of his own courage, but Brigham did not show the lion's paw but spoke in rather a patronizing way of Brother Evans's crippled condition, and said it was right that he should have some additional pay, owing to his misfortune of being a cripple. He told Evans he could have anything he needed out of his private store; that if he would leave his flour sack there, it should be regularly filled, and whatever else was there he was welcome to what he needed of it. This savored a little too much of charity for Evans, who although badly crippled in his limbs, was by no means a weakling in his brains; and hurt a little by the President's patronizing manner, he arose and said about as follows:

"President Young, I have had my flour sack at your store for more than a month, and every time I have gone in to try and get it filled, the clerk has told me the flour was all out." Evans's unique relation of the flour sack incident injected a spark of humor into the proceedings; a suppressed titter ran through the crowd, and even Brigham, although nettled at this unexpected sally, could not repress a grim smile.

That the reader may better understand the flour sack incident it must be explained here that what little pay the actors and musicians had been receiving for their services through the benefits was not all in cash, but store orders mostly on the tithing store. The cash receipts of the theatre up to this time and indeed as late as 1870 were probably one-third of the gross receipts, the other two-thirds consisting of orders on various stores or tithing pay, which consisted of all kinds of home products—so that when the "benefits" were divided up among the company each member got about one-third of his "divvy" in cash and the other two-thirds in store orders and orders on the tithing office. Evans was the possessor of an order on Brigham Young's private store, and he felt chagrined that he had been so often with that order and failed to draw it. Flour was flour in those days, running as high at one time as twenty dollars per hundred, but the uniform church or tithing office price was six dollars per hundred, which was what the actors had to pay for it, but it was doled out very sparingly to them at times when it was commanding high prices in outside markets. With these orders they drew about all their provisions from the tithing store. Artemus Ward amused the world by telling how the Salt Lake Theatre used to take in exchange for tickets cabbage, potatoes, wheat, carrots, and even sucking pigs through the box office window. It was perhaps nearer the truth than he himself suspected, for these tithing office orders were good for all these things.

After the titter had subsided Brigham arose again, and answered Brother Evans that he was sorry he had been disappointed so, but there really had been a great scarcity of flour during the past month or so, but he would see to it in the future that he would meet no more disappointments. To Brother Phil Margetts he made an offer to come and work in his blacksmith shop (Phil was running one of his own) and then he need not lose any time; his pay would go on whether working in the shop or in the theatre. Brother Lindsay could bring his carpenter tools to the theatre and he could find plenty of work for him to fill up the time between the rehearsals. To others he made similar propositions; but these suggestions were not in harmony with the feelings of the company, who thought they had given their time to Brother Brigham long enough, and now contended with Brother Evans, that as they were furnishing the amusements for the people, it was only right that they should be paid for their services, so the result of the meeting was that the company was put on salary. Salaries ranged from $15.00 to $50.00 per week, one-third cash, the balance in store orders and tithing office pay.