In the year following the organization of the Virginia Serenaders the original Christy Minstrels were organized by E. P. Christy, in Buffalo. The troupe consisted of E. P. Christy, Geo. Christy (whose real name was Harrington), L. Durand and T. Vaughn. They first called themselves the Virginia Minstrels, but changed to Christy Minstrels in a short time, when Enon Dickerson and Zeke Bakers joined them. The party continued to give concerts up to July, 1850, when E. P. Christy died and was buried in Greenwood. George Christy had withdrawn in October, 1853, owing to some dispute between himself and E. P. His salary during the two years and six months preceding the withdrawal amounted to $19,680. The troupe gave two thousand seven hundred and ninety-two concerts during its existence, took in $317,589.30, paid out $156,715.70, and had a profit left of $160,873.60. The profits of the first year did not exceed $300. Companies were now springing up everywhere, and so great was the rage for ministrelsy that the troupes were obliged to give morning concerts. The entertainment has been one of our public amusements ever since, and a good company of burnt cork artists can command a good house anywhere. Following the spirit of enterprise of the age and the tendency to gigantic proportions in everything, minstrelsy has developed into Mastodon Megatherion and other mammoth organizations. End men by the dozens, song and dance men by the scores and no less than forty ("count 'em") artists now amuse the public that was satisfied with four in '41. By the way it was in this year on July 4th, that bones were first played before an audience, the player being Frank Brower of the Virginia Serenaders.
GEORGE CHRISTY.
George Christy, who was the most celebrated Ethiopian performer the world knew in those days was born in Palmyra, State of New York, November 3, 1827. He was sent to school at an early age, and although he excelled in all the branches of education peculiar to boys of his age, after school hours the master often found him at the head of a party of boys whom he had assembled together for the purpose of giving theatrical entertainments, or, as they called it, a show. George was, as he ever has been, the very head and front of this species of amusement; and subsequently, under the auspices of E. P. Christy, made his debut as Julius, the bone-player, in the spring of 1839, and afterwards attained to the very first rank in his profession. He survived his namesake many years.
The only fault to be found with the minstrelsy of the present day is the coarseness that pervades many of the sketches and crops out in the songs and funny sayings. The old-time negro character has been sunk out of sight and the vulgarity of the gamin has taken the place of the innocent comicalities that were in vogue forty years ago. It is true that the negro character has undergone a change and that the black man now vies with his white brother in everything that is low and vicious; but the criticism still holds good that negro minstrelsy is not what it was or what it ought to be, and that no matter how grand its proportions may be made by enterprising managers the many features that make it objectionable to fastidious people must be pruned off before it can be said to be deserving that full recognition which the public always accords to whatever is good in the amusement line.
The negro minstrel is an institution entirely outside of the pale of commonplace people. He talks differently from other people, acts differently, dresses differently. A "gang of nigger singers" can be identified three blocks away by an ordinary observer of human nature. They have a fondness for high and shining silk hats that are reflected in the glaze of their patent-leather, low-quarter shoes every time they pull up their light trousers to look at their red or clocked silk stockings. Their clothes are of a minstrelsy cut, and like the party who came to town with rings on her fingers and rings on her toes, they must have their fingers covered with amethysts or cluster-diamond ornaments, and they rarely ever fail to display a "spark" in their gorgeous shirt fronts. They are "mashers" of the most pronounced type on the stage and off, and just as soon as they take possession of a small town, it is safe to say that all the feminine hearts lying around loose will be corraled within twenty-four hours of their arrival. They are as generous now as they were years ago, and few of them save a cent for the frequently mentioned rainy day. The very best of them have died in poverty, and found graves only through the charity of friends. Johnny Diamond and his partner, Jim Sanford, the former of whom helped Barnum in his first steps along the road to fortune, both died in the same Philadelphia alms-house. They had commanded big salaries, but dressed flashily and lived fast, and when the rainy day came they had to run for shelter to a public charity. Very few performers who die in poverty now are allowed to seek any other than the charity of their professional brethren. The Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks takes care of the unfortunates, assisting them generously while living and giving them decent burial at their death.
As I said, the minstrel boy is an irresistible "masher." His particular weakness is women, with wine often only a little behind. He lives at as rapid a rate as his salary will allow, and turns night into day by "taking in the town" after the performance. They frequently get into scandalous history owing to the promiscuousness with which they pick up with petticoats, and their amours get them into great trouble. Women seem to have a lavish fondness for the end-man, and many of them have left husband, children, and home to follow the fortunes of a fickle minstrel. The story of the Chicago gambler's wife who ran off with Billy Arlington is still fresh in the minds of the people of the city by the lake, and still fresher is that of the St. Louis demi-mondaine who sold out her house to be always near her "Johnny," who, I think, was one of the Big Four.
"YOU ARE THE SORT OF A MAN I LIKE."
A mash that created a sensation, though, was one that developed in a New York Bowery theatre, one night, when a young woman elegantly attired jumped out of a private box, and embracing a performer who was just finishing a banjo solo, shouted in a voice that was clear and loud, "You're the sort of a man I like!" The audience cheered lustily and the young woman accepted the applause with a courtesy, while the banjoist staggered into the wings, too much amazed to be flattered. A young man from whose side the lady had made her leap upon the stage, succeeded with some difficulty in coaxing her back into the box and the show went on. The pair had been dining and wining together, and the young gentleman had not been as attentive to his companion as she thought proper. So she had chosen the original method of at once rebuking and shaming him. She succeeded. He did not dare to look at another woman on or off the stage again until the curtain fell.