CHAPTER XVII
SEASON OF '72-'73.—CONTINUED.
Before this time John Maguire had been heard from; he had found on his arrival at Pioche that there was some sort of a theatre there. It had been built for a minstrel company of whom Harry Larraine, formerly of the Fort Douglas band, was the leader. At the expiration of the minstrel engagement, Maguire secured the theatre when he immediately set about to put a dramatic company in there. He telegraphed for Mr. and Mrs. Bates, offering them a strong inducement to go there. He also telegraphed for the writer, offering him a salary that was sufficient inducement for him to go. John W. Dunne, a young Californian, who had been in the Salt Lake Theatre company, was also engaged. Our fares were arranged for and about the middle of January this nucleus for a dramatic company left Salt Lake City for Pioche for a six weeks' engagement. Our party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Bates, Baby Bates (Blanche), the now famous actress, who was then about a year and a half old; Mrs. Bates' sister, Miss Wren, who acted as the chief nurse, and Mr. John W. Dunne. It is a matter well worthy of record that Mr. Dunne was married the night before he left for Pioche, to Miss Clara Decker, a niece of Brigham Young, a very pretty and attractive girl, who had been assistant costumer in the ladies' department of the theatre for some time. It was of course, a great trial to the young couple to have to part so soon, after one brief night of married life, but the exigencies of the theatrical business are at times merciless. As they had been engaged for some time, it was decided when Mr. Dunne accepted the Pioche engagement, that it would be best for them to get married before he went away lest absence and distance might cause one or both to change their minds. How wise a precaution this proved the sequel will show. This proved to be a memorable trip. Every member of the party will remember that trip to their dying day except Blanche, and she was too young to remember anything about it. The schedule time from Salt Lake to Pioche was fifty-five hours. We were five days and nights, or one hundred and twenty-five hours making that journey. The Utah Southern was then running only as far as York, about seventy-five miles south of Salt Lake. This left two hundred and seventy-five miles to be traveled by stage. Our stage was not a Concord, but a rather dilapidated specimen of the "jerkie" or "mud wagon." It had seating accommodations for nine persons, and two could ride on the "boot" with the driver. There were two male passengers in addition to our party of six—six counting Baby Bates, who must be figured in as one, for although quite small, she was very much in evidence throughout that journey. One of the gentlemen rode most of the time on the "boot" and occasionally one or another of the men would take a spell on the driver's seat so that we were never crowded uncomfortably; yet, oh, how tired we did get and especially the ladies, before that ride was ended. It was the 18th of January, the weather very pleasant but very cold nights, and our first night on the stage was decidedly uncomfortable. We reached the terminus of the railroad, York, about noon, ate dinner in a shack of a restaurant and started on our stage ride about two p. m. We were not long in discovering that there was something the matter with the horses. The driver, in answer to our queries, informed us that they were all suffering from the epizootic; it was getting awful bad, he explained, "don't believe we've got a horse on the line that is free from it." We agreed with him that it was awful bad. The poor beasts coughed and sneezed continuously, throwing off effluvium, the odor of which was disagreeable in the extreme. On our second day out a regular January thaw set in and the snow melted so rapidly that the roads got very bad; a number of times the men had to get out and walk, and on several occasions the well named "mud wagon" got mired so deeply and the horses were so weak, we had to get a fence pole from the neighboring fence and lift the wheels out of the holes, the horses being unable to budge the old coach. The further south we got the worse the roads got. We had to change the horses about every twenty miles, but they were all alike, weak and dispirited, and the stench about the stables at the different stations was nauseating. On the fifth day out we arrived at the last station. Between it and the mining camp there was a hard mountain to climb and the snow was falling thick and fast. It was then well on to sunset and to our keen disappointment the station man and driver decided it would be folly to try to get over the "divide" in that storm, and that we would have to remain at the station until morning. Here was an unlooked for and unpleasant predicament, but there was no help for it, and it was better than getting stuck on the "divide" in a heavy snowstorm. The hostler was a good natured fellow and tried in his homely way to reconcile us to our fate. "I ain't got so very much grub here and what there is ain't very dainty, I 'low, especially for the ladies, but such as it is you're welcome to, and you can have a good fire, and if youse want to stretch yourselves out after supper, I can rake up quite a few blankets and laprobes, and ye can lie down when youse tired of settin' 'round the fire." The odor of the stable from the epizootic was almost sickening and the thoughts of eating there was anything but cheering, but we were all hungry, almost famished, having had nothing since breakfast. So we made the best of it. The hostler hustled in great shape, the presence of the ladies and the baby inspiring him to extra exertions in our behalf. He soon had a big pot of coffee and a pan full of bacon cooking, and he had to make some bread too, in which Mrs. Bates and her sister lent him their assistance. The quickest thing he suggested was slapjacks, and we all agreed to the quickest thing, and so before long we were all partaking with what relish we could of the hostler's coffee, slapjacks and bacon, and, notwithstanding the disagreeable odor of the stable, we all contrived to satisfy our hunger. After the hostler cook had cleaned away the few tin plates and cups, he proceeded to strew the end of the little "hostler's room" farthest from the stove with a diversity of blankets and laprobes, all of which were permeated with the odor of the stable, and suggested in his rough but kindly way "that we had better stretch ourselves on the floor as it was a long time till morning" and he knew "we must be pooty darn tired a ridin' so long in the coach." Mrs. Bates and her sister would have preferred sitting up if they only had comfortable chairs, but there was nothing but a rough bench and a couple of rough stools in the place and the majority of the men had been standing about or sitting on the floor all through the supper function and sleep gradually overpowered the party, and one by one they "knit up the raveled sleeve of care" and were glad to bunk down on the uninviting bed the kindly hostler had improvised for the occasion. In less than an hour after our sumptuous repast, the entire party were in the arms of Morpheus. The women and the baby Blanche were in the most secluded corner, then Frank Bates, John Dunne and myself stretched out on the hospitable blankets. These took all the space and the two strangers and the driver wrapped up in their overcoats and betook themselves to the portion of the floor unoccupied; this was close around the stove. The floor of that hostler's room was literally covered with the sleepy travelers. It was a change of position and measurably restful, but our sleep was broken and anything but sweet, even though it was the "innocent sleep." The constant coughing of the poor, afflicted horses and the peculiar and disagreeable odor of the epizootic, rendered sleep anything but delightful, but "necessity knows no law," and in spite of all the disadvantages we managed to snatch some repose from the "chief nourisher in life's feast." Unenviable as was our position in the hostler's room on this memorable night, it would have been much worse had we undertaken to cross the mountain. Snow was falling thick and fast, and the wind blowing hard enough to be very disagreeable. After we were all asleep, or apparently so, the hostler shoved a stick of wood in the stove which was getting cold, and then turned into the hayloft to get a little sleep himself, for he had to be astir before daylight. Before daybreak the storm had spent itself and the sun rose bright and cheerful, mountain and vale deeply covered with snow. Our breakfast, which the hostler prepared while the driver was feeding and watering the horses, was exactly the same as we had for supper: coffee, slapjacks and bacon, with the addition of some tea which one of our fellow passengers prepared for himself and the ladies. It was a sample package he had and cost him, he solemnly declared, $5.00 a pound. This gave an extra flavor to it no doubt, at all events the ladies declared it was fine and we did not doubt its being more to their taste than the coffee the good hostler provided. Breakfast over, we once more clambered into the shaky old jerkie with the admonition from the driver that we men would have to walk when we came to the steep places. We thanked the kindly hostler and invited him to come to the show when we got to playing in Pioche. The snow was six or eight inches deep and even on the gradual ascent, as we started up the grade, it was all the horses could do to pull us, and the snow soon began to melt and the road to get steeper. It was evident we men would have to foot it, and most of the way to the top, and so we got out one or two at a time till we were all walking and occasionally we had to give a shove on the coach to help the willing but weakly horses get to the top. Once there we were all very glad to get in; we were not long in rattling along the down grade into Pioche, all very glad to get there. Maguire, who had been impatiently expecting us for two days, was overjoyed to see us, for he was full of expectations as to the business we were going to do. He had secured us the best hotel accommodations the camp afforded, and they were duly appreciated after our recent experience at the station.
After dinner we all took a walk with Maguire at his invitation, to see the theatre where we were to play our six weeks engagement. The building stood back from the principal street which was built right in the ravine, the stage entrance facing the street, and the entrance for the audience facing the street above. We had ventured various conjectures in reference to this theatre that the always over sanguine Maguire had secured a lease of. We had not expected very much and yet we were disappointed. We all entered at the stage door which opened directly from a flight of steps onto the back of the stage, and as we beheld the wonderful temple of Thespus, where we were to do honor to his art, the exclamations that escaped us were not well calculated to enthuse John Maguire, but rather to make him feel a little shaky about the venture he was making. Ye gods! What a transition from the Salt Lake Theatre to this shack! The theatre was about 35x75 feet, the stage occupying twenty-five feet. The orchestra floor for reserved seats ran from the stage towards the front about 15 feet. The rest of the space was fitted with rough board seats a la circus, the natural declivity of the ground giving the seats the necessary pitch for the audience to see the stage. The walls of the building were of rough pine boards about ten feet in height and the entire auditorium was roofed in with ducking or light canvas. The stage part was roofed with shingles so as to preserve the scenery from the rain. Of scenery there was a very limited supply and that not very artistic, being painted by an amateur. The stage projected beyond the curtain some six feet and on each side of this apron or projecting stage was a private box, finished off with cheap wall paper similar to the interior scenes on the stage. These boxes were well patronized. Every night they were filled with the fair, frail denizens of the camp at the rate of $10 a box. The opening play had already been announced, but owing to the lateness of our arrival, was necessarily postponed for a few nights. Maguire had gotten together some people of more or less experience (mostly less) to fill up the minor parts in the cast. He also took a hand himself and rehearsals were started the same night we arrived.
The opening night came around and the Opera House (that's what John called it) was packed to suffocation. The boxes were filled to overflowing with the swellest looking women in the town. The play was "Camille" and Mrs. Bates had them all shedding tears. The girls in the boxes were deeply affected. Most of them were "like Niobe, all tears," but we received no intimation that this powerful sermon of Dumas was instrumental in turning them from their life of shame.
Pioche was a camp of about eight thousand people and was "booming." We played four weeks to good paying business. This fairly exhausted the Bates repertoire, and business began to fall off appreciably. So a farewell benefit was worked up for Mrs. Bates and she made her final appearance at Pioche in a blaze of glory, chiefly emanating from a diamond ring with which she was presented on the memorable occasion as a token of regard to a distinguished actress from a few of her Pioche admirers. The Bateses were fortunate. They had been playing on a large percentage of the gross receipts and had cleared up quite a nice little stake in the four weeks they had played and they struck out at once for San Francisco, and from there went to Australia where, in '78, Frank Bates died, after which Mrs. Bates and Blanche, now a girl of eight, returned to San Francisco in 1880. Maguire still kept myself and Dunne and the rest of the company, thinking that with some new and lighter plays we could still do a paying business. The results were not very satisfactory. We played several weeks in a sort of spasmodic way, and then organized a little traveling company in which a clever young girl, Maggie Knight, whom Maguire had discovered, was a feature, and we played back to the C. P. R. R. On one of these occasions in Pioche, a very ludicrous thing happened which should not go unrecorded. We were playing the burlesque of "Pocahontas." Maguire was playing Captain John Smith, the writer Powhatan, and Johnny Dunne, as we were short of ladies, was playing Pocahontas. In the scene where Smith is brought in a prisoner and is about to be executed, a catastrophe happened to John Maguire, so sudden and appalling, should he live to be as old as Methusaleh, I doubt if he would ever forget it. Where Smith says, after viewing the stone on which he is to be decapitated,
"It's a hard pill, but a harder piller,
Life's a conundrum," and Powhatan replies:
"Then lie down and give it up."
Just at this point a sudden scream emanated from one of the boxes, which were well filled on this occasion with the demi monde, then several screams of laughter, then the whole audience began to roar with laughter. I knew something had gone wrong for there was nothing in the text to extort such screams and peals of laughter. I glanced over the group on the stage, and to my amazement I saw Mac's trunks had dropped down to his feet, and he, all unconscious of the fact, was standing there in a pair of thin cotton tights. His knee pants or trunks, were of very light material and the drawstring with which they were fastened around his waist, had given way and they dropped to the floor, and so excited was he in his character he did not notice it. I said to him in sotto voce, "Your pants are down." Then he cast his eyes down, and the look of abject despair that came over his face as he said in a subdued tone, "Oh, my God!" and stopped and pulled the gauzy things up to their place and walked off the stage to readjust them, we can never forget. The girls at this resumed their screams of laughter and the audience roared until they were tired. When the noise subsided, Maguire, with his costume adjusted, came back to finish the scene, but it was several minutes before we could proceed, so much did the audience enjoy this simple accident. Maguire remained in Pioche some time after I left there, and finally left the place worse off by far than when he went there, and I did not see the genial John again till I went to Portland in '78 to play in the New Market theatre of which he was the manager. Just before the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Bates, John Dunne and myself for Pioche, the Cogswell-Carter company arrived in Salt Lake, having traveled by stage and team from California, playing the towns en route.
This company consisted of J. W. Carter, Carrie Carter, W. J. Cogswell (Carrie's brother), Ed. Harden, Lincoln J. Carter (then a very small boy), and probably one or two others, minor people who did not come into publicity here. On arriving here the party waited upon President Brigham Young to pay their respects, and to inform him that they had been commanded by the spirit world, with which they had been having communications (by the "Planchette" route), to go to Salt Lake and join the Mormon church as that was the true church and the only one that could save them. This told in all apparent sincerity, with the request to be baptized, was altogether a pleasing surprise to Brigham and his counsellors, and the Cogswell-Carter company were warmly welcomed. They were baptized and confirmed into the church without delay, and within a few days they were all engaged at the Salt Lake Theatre. Their coming was very timely for the theatre managers, for they had lost several of their leading people. "Jim" Hardie had gone for good, McKenzie, who had been playing steadily since the opening of the theatre in '62 and was wearied with study, had been released and sent on a mission in the belief the change would benefit him; John Lindsay was off on a "fool's errand" playing for John Maguire in Pioche, and the Cogswell-Carter-Marden accession filled the gap very nicely, and the season progressed to its close without much friction.
During the absence of Mr. Dunne and myself from Salt Lake the following attractions appeared at the theatre. Jean Clara Walters, W. J. Cogswell and the stock company from February 8th to March 10th, on which date a new play by Edward L. Sloan (then editor of the Salt Lake Herald) was produced. It was entitled "Stage and Steam." It was intended to show the advance of civilization. It had a railroad scene and a stage coach in it and a sensational saw mill scene, where a man was placed on the log carriage to be sliced into boards, but was rescued just in the nick of time. Jos. Arthur's saw mill scene in "Blue Jeans" is exactly the same thing, although it is scarcely probable that Mr. Arthur ever saw Sloan's play. The play only had two performances. March 10th to 15th, Frank Hussey and Blanche Clifton held the boards in "Hazard" and some other plays. Marion Mordaunt was the next stellar attraction and gave "The Colleen Bawn" and "Hearts are Trumps" the 17th to 10th. On the 24th a star of the first magnitude appeared. It was Augusta Dargon. She opened in "Camille" and played also "Deborah (Leah)," "Lady Macbeth," "Meg Merrilles" and "Lucretia Borgia." Miss Dargon was one of the greatest actresses our country ever produced, but she was not financially successful. She is the only American actress who has ever played Tennyson's "Queen Mary." Mrs. John Drew made a costly production of this play at the Arch Street Theatre, Philadelphia, with Augusta Dargon as the star during the Centennial. But it was not a financial success. The writer did not meet Miss Dargon till 1878, when she came to the New Market theatre in Portland and played a two weeks' engagement under the management of our old friend John Maguire. Here I had the pleasure (and hard work) of playing the opposite roles to her in her extensive repertory, changing the bill nearly every night during her engagement. Toward the close of it she put up Tennyson's "Queen Mary" in which I had to play King Phillip of Spain on two days' study, a very long, arduous part, that put me on my mettle to master it; also studied and played "Cardinal Wolsey" for the first time during this engagement. Miss Dargon, who was under the management of Henry Greenwald, after her Portland engagement, made a tour of the "sound" playing Tacoma, Seattle, Port Townsend and Victoria, supported by the New Market Theatre company, and returning, played a few more nights in Portland, then took steamer for Australia. Under Mr. Greenwald's management she had played successful engagements both in San Francisco and Portland, and when she opened in Melbourne she just captivated the city, playing extraordinary engagements both there and in Sidney. The press of Australia printed volumes in her praise. She made a great triumph, and in the very flush of her victory, some wealthy Australian captured her. She got married and retired from the stage, and Greenwald was forced to return without her. She never came back to us. Her return engagement here was played before she went to Australia.
Mr. "Bill" Cogswell seemed to have dropped out of the company before Miss Dargon's engagement and consequently David McKenzie was her principal support. After the Dargon engagement, which closed March 29th, Jean Clara Walters, Florence Kent and the stock company played through the April conference without a star attraction, and filled up time to April 28th when for some reason the season closed but was reopened on May 3rd with the stock company who played up to the 6th. On the 8th of May, Augusta Dargon began a return engagement which lasted till the 15th. She opened in the new play "Unmasked," and repeated "Deborah," "Camille," and "Lady Macbeth," and closed in a new piece "The Rising of the Moon." It speaks highly of Miss Dargon's popularity in Salt Lake that she should play a return engagement in five weeks after her first one.
Blind Tom, the musical prodigy, was the next attraction. He played but one night, May 17th. On the 19th Annette Ince began a return engagement of six nights and a matinee and the record shows a change of play for each performance. She gave "Elizabeth," "Mary Stuart," "Medea," "The Hunchback," "The Stranger," "The Honeymoon," and the "Lady of Lyons." This repertory in one week undoubtedly kept the company right busy. Miss Ince was a sterling actress, and always gave satisfaction, but she did not possess the faculty of making your blood thrill in your veins and your hair rise occasionally that Miss Dargon had. It is just a little singular how she came so close on Miss Dargon's heels this time. It seems like poor management to play two lady stars, so nearly alike in repertoire, so close together, but these accidents would happen once in a while. Frank Hussey and Blanche Clifton came back for two nights, May 26th and 27th. Then the stock had to take up the burden again and carry it from May 28th to June 21st. By June 1st John Dunne and the writer had returned from the Pioche trip and were back in their old positions in the company. Dunne had a surprise party in store for him on his return. Instead of being received with open arms and loving embraces by his bride of a night, she coldly repulsed him and refused ever to live with him, and she kept her word. This was owing to things she had heard about John and his freedom with other females while he was at Pioche. This did not discourage Dunne, however, from trying again. He has had several wives since, the best known being Patti Rosa, a talented actress whom he managed and married. Clara, on the other hand, was not inconsolable, and her enchantment with the stage and stage actors having been rather rudely dispelled, she sought "surcease from sorrow" in the affections of a well to do farmer, who has proven more constant, and with whom she has raised a representative Mormon family.
Madam Anna Bishop put in a week of high class concert from June the 25th to 30th. On July 2nd John W. Dunne took a benefit, on which occasion we repeated one of our Pioche performances with an important change of cast. "Theresa, or the Cross of Gold" and "Pocahontas" was the bill. Dunne did not find the atmosphere of Salt Lake so congenial to him as it had been and did not remain for the next season. I next met him in Cheyenne in '78. He was married and apparently contented, working at his trade of printer.
The business, after Dunne's benefit, seems to have been spasmodic. The stock kept on playing, however, during the month of July. That it did business at all was remarkable, but there being no "resorts" and the theatre the coolest place in town, in some measure accounts for its keeping open during the torrid heat of the summer.
Weiniawska, the Polish violinist, gave a concert on the 12th. George Waldron and his wife drifted in and played a few nights up to the 17th. Then W. O. Crosbie and his wife, Arrah Crosbie, and James A. Vinson, drifted in from the northwest and were given a few nights. "Jim" Vinson was featured in the play of "Quits" and "Billie" Crosbie in some favorite farce, supported by Arrah and the stock company. Both Vinson and Crosbie made a very favorable impression which resulted in them being engaged by the management for the following season. It looked as if all the other theatres in the West had closed and the actors had come trouping to Salt Lake to get summer engagements. Now comes Carrie Cogswell-Carter and the available stock to the front. They opened on the 26th and played till the 30th, and the season closed.