Watch Yourself Go By

by Al. G. Field

"I'll be durned if they could," ejaculated Mr. Hall-man, and he waved the key of the door triumphantly at Alfred. The man had actually locked the door. When opened, there were some dozen seeking admission. Many left in disgust.

There was a bill for lights of glass, and numerous drinks at the bar presented to Alfred. The glass he settled for, informing the hotel man he did not pay bar-bills. The barkeeper could not recognize any one of the performers in their street attire.

He assured Alfred "the hull pack of niggers with you jus' drank and drank and only a few paid. The bill don't amount to much, so far as enny one of the men is concerned; but one gal, one nigger gal, jus' treated right and left. If we could get what she owes, I'd let the rest go." The barkeeper referred to Harry Bulger.

Alfred's great desire was to present his minstrel show in his old home town, Brownsville. The stage in Jeffries' Hall was too small to accommodate the minstrels. Therefore, one of Alfred's boyhood friends, Levi Waggoner, arranged to play the minstrels in the skating rink. Levi was one of the boys who had stood by the old town through all its changes and become one of its substantial citizens. Awake to every business opportunity, he had not only seated the floor space of the rink but builded circus seats against the rear wall.

Alfred was not in the old town an hour until it became imperative that he should seek protection from his friends. He delegated one of the company, one who was noted for his staying qualities, to represent him. Every man met, no matter how old, claimed to be a schoolboy friend of Alfred's. "There goes another old friend of Alf's" became a by-word long before night.

"Spider" Pomeroy, six feet six then, when a boy, (he has grown some since), celebrated Alfred's return more uproariously than any one person in the town. Alfred supplied him with a ticket early in the morning. By noon "Spider" had obtained six tickets, always claiming he had lost the other one. When the doors opened, "Spider" ran over the small boys in his way, brushed the ticket taker aside, entering without a ticket he perched himself on the top of Lee Wagoner's improvised circus seats, his legs doubled up until his knees stuck up on either side above his head like a grasshopper.

He sat through the first part. The minstrel with the staying qualities was laboring with a monologue. "Spider", after his strenuous day, was sleeping off his exuberance. At the dullest part in the monologist's offering, "Spider" let go all holds. The skating rink was built on piles, over the river's bank. One walking on the floor, their footsteps awakened echoes. When "Spider" hit that floor—and he hit it with all his frame—legs, arms, feet and head, all at one time, it sounded as if the building had collapsed. All were on their feet looking towards the back of the rink. As "Spider" lit, the monologist shouted: "There goes another old friend of Alf's." It came in pat. The audience grasped it and the monologist established a reputation for originality. "There goes another old friend of Alf's" is a common saying in Brownsville until this day.

The property man that first season was a German, new in the minstrel game. He is now a capitalist and probably would not relish the disclosing of his name.

Chas. Sweeny, the stage manager, was a stickler for realism. In the burlesque of "The Lime Kiln Club," one climax was the sound of a cat fight on the roof. The cats were supposed to fall through the skylight. Every member of the lodge was supposed to have his dog with him—colored people are fond of dogs. When the cats fall into the lodge room, every dog goes after them. Fake, or dummy cats were prepared for the scene and used during rehearsals. The first night Sweeny ordered Gus, the property man, to procure two live cats. Gus, stationed on a very high step-ladder in the wings, at the cue was to throw the cats on the stage. Gus was heard to remark: "You all better hurry or send some von to manage one of dese cats." The cat fight was heard on the roof. The glass in the skylight was heard to break. The cats were, with great difficulty, flung by Gus. They clawed and held onto him. The long step-ladder was rocking like a slender tree in a gale. One cat left the hands of Gus, alighting with all four feet on Sweeny's neck, with a spring that sent it out over the heads of the orchestra to the fourth or fifth row in the parquet. The cat left its marks on Sweeny's neck and the scars are there today as plain as twenty-seven years ago. As Gus flung the second cat the exertion was too much for him. He followed on the step-ladder, overturning Brother Gardner and the stove. Three dogs pounced upon Gus as he rolled over and over on the floor. Three of the largest dogs had followed the first cat over the heads of the orchestra, and a stampede of the audience was in progress, the dogs and cats under the feet of men and women, who were jumping on chairs or rushing towards the exits. The curtain went down without the humorous dialogue that usually terminated the scene.

"Mr. President: I moves you, sir, dat no member ob dis club hyaraftuh be admitted wid more'n three dogs."