Some little boys in livery were wandering about on the various floors crying out "Program" with the accent on the first syllable, and as I wanted one, I hailed a boy who gave me one and charged me a penny for it (two cents). Printing must be dear in Glasgow, I thought, to charge a fellow two cents for a printed piece of paper. I said nothing but scanned the program. Here is what it said:
No. 1—La Puits d'Amour, Balfe; Band.
No. 2—Mr. John Robertson, Baritone Vocalist.
No. 3—Drew and Richards in their specialty act, Old Fashioned Times.
No. 4—Mr. Billy Ford, Negro Comedian.
No. 5—The Alaskas—Ben and Frank—Comic Horizontal Bar Experts.
No. 6—Mr. Edward Harris, London Comedian.
No. 7—Miss Josie Trimmer, Child Actress, and the Forget-me-nots, Vocalists and Dancers.
No. 8—Selection, Yeoman of the Guard.
No. 9—Sallie Adams, American Serpentine Dancer.
No. 10—The Gees, in their Musical Oddity, Invention.
No. 11—Collins and Dickens, in their Refined Specialty act.
No. 12—Mr. Charles Russell, Comedian and descriptive Vocalist.
No. 13—National Anthem.
Quite a lengthy program this and it looked to me as if it might be good, especially the Serpentine Dancer, who was a countrywoman of mine, and the darkies, who were probably countrymen.
After a moderate wait the lights were turned up, the orchestra tuned up and soon the band gave us a selection by Balfe called "La Puits d'Amour." I didn't know what "La Puits d'Amour" was but it didn't make any difference to me. It was some kind of music. The selection was a long one and the band sawed away at it as if they were never going to stop. It was so long drawn out in fact that my wits went a wool gathering and I nearly fell asleep, for tedious music is apt to make me snooze. When the music stopped I woke up and was ready for business.
The first event on the program was Mr. John Robertson, Baritone Vocalist.
The band played a preliminary flourish when out walked Mr. Robertson dressed in a spike-tail coat, black vest and biled shirt. Hanging in front of his vest was a long, thick watch-chain which must have been a valuable one, for it looked like gold. Mr. Robertson sang a song and kept a hold on his watch chain. The song was hum-drum and so was Mr. Robertson's voice. Mr. Robertson made no great hit and when he left us he took his chain with him.
Number two was Drew and Richards in their specialty act, "Old Fashioned Times."
A lady and gent came upon the stage dressed in very old-fashioned garb, and sang. Just as soon as the lady opened her mouth to sing I knew she was a gentleman and she couldn't sing any more like a lady than I could. I have seen female impersonators on the stage many a time and they carried out the illusion perfectly, but this chap wasn't in it at all. He gave me a pain. I wasn't sorry when this couple made their exit.
Mr. Billy Ford, the Negro Comedian, next came to the front. Now there'll be a little something doing, anyway, thought I.
Mr. Billy Ford was not a negro at all but a Britisher with a cockney accent. Maybe I wasn't astonished! Holy Smoke! He sang out bold as you please just as if he were singing like a darkey and the gallery gods went into ecstacies over him. They laughed, roared, and chirruped. They seemed to think a heap of Mr. Ford, but I felt like going somewhere to lay off and die. A nigger with a cockney accent! Oh my! Oh my! Will wonders never cease?